Raze & Reap (54 page)

Ignoring everything but Zaal and I, our magnetic attraction, and what we'd just shared, I tipped my forehead to meet his, whispering, “Yes, Zaal … I think I am 
… for you
.”

 

12

LUKA

“One, two, three, four.”

I slammed my fists forward, ripping into the flesh of the newly slaughtered pig hanging from the rafter of the gym. Viktor, my death-match trainer from my Dungeon days, counted my reps beside me.

My bladed knuckle-dusters sliced into the pink flesh of the swine, the dripping blood and the cut of the skin almost humanlike as I let the power of my punches loose.

“Drop and give me fifty,” Viktor ordered. I did as commanded, falling into my push-ups position. I pushed off the floor, eyes focused forward as Viktor counted me down.

The familiar smells of the gym filled my nose, the sounds of clanging metal, grunts, and punching bags being struck brought me back to life. But a rip of guilt also sliced through my chest. Kisa had no idea I'd been training again. She had no idea that I'd called on Viktor to get me match fit again. To be Raze ready.

In the weeks that I'd been back in Brooklyn, the street war between the Bratva and the Jakhua Georgians had begun. Our men were being targeted, shot, killed, beat. And it incensed me. Fueled the constant rage I'd fought to rein in.

As the
knayz
I was forbidden to fight. The Pakhan wanted to secure the safety of his future successor. But me? I wanted to be on the streets. I wanted to fight among the men. I wanted to take the lives of our enemy. I wanted to be a part of the war, not watching from the sidelines.

Fuck.
I needed the violence. Something dark within me still craved it.

And more than that, I wanted Jakhua. Anri's revenge would not be complete until that fucker had died under my blades. I wouldn't move on until that mission had been accomplished. Right now that fucker was in hiding. But at some point he'd show his face, and when he did, I'd be prepped and ready to take him out.

“Fifty,” Viktor called, ending my push-ups. I jumped up, only to start my next set of reps on what was left of the decimated pig carcass. I was ten reps in to my routine when I felt someone watching me.

Lifting my head, I searched the gym, and my eyes fell on Kisa standing near the entrance to her office. My stomach rolled. She was meant to be out for the day. She was never meant to know I was training again. She wouldn't understand why I needed this.

Halting in my training session, sweat pouring down my face, I breathed hard as I stared at my wife. Her expression was unreadable as she stood motionless just watching me in my gym shorts, my blood-covered 'dusters firmly on my fists.

“Shit, been caught,” Viktor muttered under his breath from beside me. He threw Kisa a guilty wave. She waved back, then turned to go into her office. When the door shut, I dropped my head and felt Viktor's hand land on my shoulder.

“You better go sort that out, kid,” he said. “I'll clean up here.”

Nodding, I slid the 'dusters off my fingers and headed for the office. As I walked through the mob of this season's recruits perfecting their skills, I couldn't help but size each one of them up. And I automatically knew I could take them all. For most, there wouldn't even be a contest. I would slaughter them in seconds. I tried my hardest to push those thoughts from my mind.

It was no longer my life.

I reached Kisa's office, and with my hand hovering over the knob, I took a deep breath and walked in. As the door shut, I stepped forward, unsure of how Kisa was going to react to finding me training.

I walked before her desk and slumped down in the seat opposite. I stared at the table, hands gripping the edge, not saying a damn word. Kisa didn't move for several seconds, until she leaned forward and ran her finger over my wedding ring.

I watched as her finger traced the edges of the gold ring and I held my breath. “How long have you been training?” she asked. Every one of my muscles tensed.

Briefly closing my eyes, I opened them to look up at my wife and confessed, “Awhile.”
Four months to be exact,
I added in my head.

“Here?” she asked. I nodded my head. “Under my nose, hiding in plain sight, or is it only in the shadows or when I'm gone?”

I sat back in my seat at the anger in Kisa's voice. She was rarely pissed at me. Clearly my training had pissed her the fuck off. “You wouldn't understand,” I replied.

Kisa's angered face immediately filled with hurt. And I immediately felt like shit. “I would, Luka. I would understand,” she whispered. “If you'd talked to me, I would've understood.”

Her cut voice made me look up at her beautiful face. I could see pain written all over it. And it cut me to shreds. Sighing, I stood and moved around her desk. When I reached Kisa's side, I pushed her chair back and sat before her on the edge of her desk.

My taped-up hand ran down her soft cheek and she leaned into my palm. “I need it,
solnyshko
. I need to train, to fight. This was my life for so long that it's all I really know. It's part of me now. Here, in this gym, I feel more at peace than I do when we are with our fathers. I tried to not come here, but I couldn't. I had to come back.”

“Lyubov moya,”
she whispered sympathetically, and shuffled forward on her seat. Kisa's hands ran up my thighs. I stared down at her and sighed.

This woman was my world. The woman God created perfectly just for me.

Kisa rubbed her lips together and cautiously informed, “I saw our fathers outside.” She didn't add anything else, just let that information hang in the air.

I stiffened and clenched my jaw. “They saw me,” I confessed dejectedly, “they saw me sparring in the cage, saw me break a man's nose and knock him out cold.” I glanced up at Kisa as I remembered finding my father and the Pakhan watching me ringside in shock as I towered over the man I'd forced to the ground.

“I could see their disappointment,” I said. “My father hadn't said a word. He just watched me wipe the spattered blood off my chest before walking out of the gym. The Pakhan followed. I disappointed them, I could see it in their faces. I'm not the man they want. I
shame
them, Kisa.” Kisa's hands tightened on my thighs and her head tipped to the side.

Spurred on by her touch, I said, “They don't want this man I am now,
solnyshko
. They want the Luka from the past. The promise of that kid they knew years ago. They don't want this.” I pointed to my cut knuckles and my identity tattoo. “They don't want the fucked-up monster who can't shake the conditioning from the gulag.”

“Luka,” Kisa whispered, and got to her feet. Her hands pushed through my hair as she stood flush to my chest. She guided me straight to her lips. Kisa's sweet taste immediately exploded in my mouth and made me feel better. I moaned against Kisa's mouth, and as she wrapped her arms around my waist, I pulled her further against my chest.

Kisa finally broke away then threaded her arms around my neck. Her eyes met mine. As I got lost in her blue understanding stare, I said, “I can be the
knayz,
Kisa, I know I can. But I have to be the heir
on my terms
.”

Kisa's arms tightened and she said, “Papa and Ivan don't want their Bratva's inner circle to be violent.”

My jaw clenched when I thought of the Bratva set up before I returned. “Alik Durov fought in the Dungeon, in the cage. He fought our rivals and enemies on the streets. No fucker threatened the Bratva with him as
knayz
. And they should fear me just the same, if not more. Instead, I'm on a fucking leash. People will think me weak, Kisa. Jakhua attacks our men daily. But I'm expected to sit in an office with Kirill and my father, pushing pens and watching it all happen from behind a mahogany desk.” My muscles burned that sad truth.

Bringing my hand to my chest, I said, “I could lead our men on the streets, attack our enemies until they crawl back into the holes they slid from.” I leaned forward, my blood pumping faster just imagining it. “I could make the Volkov Bratva unrivaled, Kisa. I could make us stronger than ever. I just need that chance. I need our fathers to trust in me, in the man I am now. Violence included.”

Blood drained from Kisa's face. She lost all color. Moving backward, she slumped back on her seat. I watched her in confusion.

“Kisa?”

“You want back in the Dungeon?” she whispered brokenly. “You want to fight like Alik did in the cage, on the streets? Even now you want that? Even now you have your life back? Now you have me. Do you still want to kill like him, too?”

I bent down, my knees hitting the floor. By the look on Kisa's face, I knew I shouldn't have said anything. “No, baby,” I assured. I pushed her brown hair back from her face. “I fucking hated Durov. There's not a single day that goes by that I don't remember killing him and feeling fucking fine with it. But”—I took a deep breath and confessed—“at least he got to be who he really was.”

Kisa was motionless waiting for me to continue.

I tried to think of a way to explain myself better. Taking her hand, I said, “I don't want to fight in the cage anymore. But I don't know who I am without the fight, if that makes sense. I am the fight. I am death. It's who I am. It's who I was molded to be.”

My eyes dropped to stare at the floor when Kisa didn't say anything in response. Why the fuck she was with me was a mystery to me. I was fucked in the head. I was irredeemable. She deserved better than me. She'd been forced to be with Alik Durov for years in my absence. And she'd hated it. He'd hurt her, made her life hell with his need for blood and violence.

I sucked in a painful breath. I wasn't much of an improvement on that cunt. I needed those things, too. Probably just as much.

Suddenly Kisa crouched to the floor. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and I immediately sagged into her chest.

“I love you,
lyubov moya.
Since birth and until the end,” she whispered, pushing any self-hatred I had to the side.

I sighed as she said exactly what I needed to hear and held her tight. “I love you, too,
solnyshko
. Always.”

Kisa leaned back, searching my face, and I couldn't stop myself from kissing her again. I broke from her mouth and pressed my forehead against hers.

We stayed there awhile in silence until Kisa pulled back. I reached out and took hold of her wrist, suddenly remembering she'd been to the doctor this morning. I'd noticed she'd been sick and off color lately. It was worrying the hell out of me.

“How was your doctor's appointment?” I asked.

Kisa stared at me, her blue eyes seeming to lose focus. With an abrupt squeeze of my hand in hers, she quickly smiled and said, “Just a stomach flu, baby. Nothing to worry about.”

I sighed in relief, and got to my feet. I offered her my hand, too. Sliding her palm over mine, Kisa got to her feet. I wrapped her in my arms. “I'm glad it's nothing serious. I love you,” I whispered. “More than I know how to express.”

Kisa tensed for a brief moment, her breath hitching. Then she held me right back.

 

13

ZAAL

They started off as images. Pictures of people and places I didn't recognize. They began invading my dreams at night. I watched them as if I was standing on the side. People; men, women, children, both boys and girls. They were happy. They made me feel warm. There were two boys. They looked the same; same hair, same build, same face, but one had brown eyes and the other green.

I couldn't erase their faces from my mind. But every time I thought about them really hard, red-hot pain would slice through my brain … then came other images … images of blood, of guns, of screams that tore my stomach apart. I couldn't stand them. The screams ignited the fire in my veins, causing me to lose control. But a little girl's screams were the worst.… She would scream and I would see two little arms reaching for me to help but something was holding me back … then the screams would stop and a pit would form in my stomach.

I wouldn't be able to breathe, and my heart would break, impossible anger tearing me to shreds.

I lay in bed with Talia, my eyes wide open and my arms wrapped around her small waist. I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to rest and have the dreams come back. I didn't want them in my head. I had no idea what they meant but knew they made Talia cry.

She would always cry. When I didn't understand what she wanted me to do, her eyes would fill with tears. She would look at me with her big brown eyes and go quiet.

I didn't like her crying. My stomach would tighten and my chest would burn. I liked her smiling and when her lips would show her teeth. I liked the mole on her lower left cheek and when her long blond hair would lay over one shoulder. When she would stare at me, her cheeks flushing red. When she would put her hand on my face and cool my scalding blood. I liked it when she stroked my long hair, and when she kissed my lips, her tongue pushing inside my mouth.

I liked being with her, and not being with Master. I liked being free with Talia, in this protected house.

But my favorite was how she made me feel. How fast my heart would beat when she lay with me. How I could breathe when she held my hand, her thumb stroking the back of my hand.

And fucking her, though it was different from all the times before. It wasn't the same with her as it was with Master's females. I looked into her eyes. Her hand would stroke my back, then rake through my hair. It was slow. It meant something to me. When we were together I felt full. I only ever remember feeling numb and empty; killing and fucking for Master. Talia made me feel alive. There was no man in a white coat injecting me and making me feel nothing but rage. There was just Talia, and she was all I wanted.