by Red Phoenix
I’m not aware that my hands are wrapped around her neck until I hear Thane’s far-off voice.
“Durov, stop! You’re killing her!”
It doesn’t seem real until he yells loudly in my ear, “Anton! Let go!”
Aware of my surroundings again, I’m shocked to find myself straddling Samantha, who lies underneath me on the ground. Both of my hands are wrapped around her neck.
Her eyes are open, but she looks up at me with a glassy stare.
I feel Thane pull at my arms but I’m frozen and can’t move.
Anderson joins in and, between the two of them, they are able to pry my hands from her throat.
I stare at Samantha with remorse, certain that I’ve killed her.
Thankfully, her body begins to spasm as she gasps for air and starts blinking her eyes, struggling to take in a deep breath.
Thane grabs my arm. “We have to get out of here—now.”
But, I am rooted to where I stand, shocked by the knowledge that she would be dead right now if they hadn’t intervened.
Anderson has to physically push me toward the backyard gate. “Go with Thane. I’ll take care of her.”
As Thane guides me out, I turn back once to see Anderson helping Samantha sit up.
I take solace in the fact that she seems okay.
However, I’m not.
“What the hell happened back there?” Thane demands, turning around to face me on our way back to the campus.
My voice is hollow when I answer. “I don’t know. I’ve been carrying around this rage toward Tatianna’s abusers, and when I saw Samantha tonight, all the raw feelings came rushing back—”
Thane closes his eyes, his voice unsteady when he says, “You almost killed her.”
I look down at my hands, horrified. “All I saw was red. I wasn’t aware of anything until I heard you calling my name.”
When Thane opens his eyes and meets my gaze, they are filled with concern—and guilt. “I had no idea she was going to be there and warned her to leave as soon as I saw her. She was on her way out when you…”
I shudder, clenching my hands into fists. “I didn’t intend to hurt her.”
“I had no idea things were this bad for you.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been so blind.”
I shake my head, unsettled by my loss of control. “I can’t be trusted.”
Thane responds with compassion. “You need therapy. This isn’t something you fix with time—not after all you’ve been through.”
“You’re right, brother. I will turn myself in to the police, even though this will crush my poor mother.”
“Don’t,” Thane states firmly.
I frown at him. “It was attempted murder, whether I intended to kill her or not. Everyone saw it.”
When I see tears come to his eyes, it guts me.
“Wait.”
“For what?” I snarl. “I refuse to be dragged away in handcuffs.”
“Let me talk to Samantha before you go to the police.”
I already know my fate and sigh. Thane will never forgive himself for this. “You have been a good friend.”
“No, you are not doing that to me,” he growls angrily, baring the scar on his wrist. “We made a promise to each other.”
“I know,” I chuckle humorlessly. “I don’t plan to leave this planet because of that vow. But I do not think I will see you for a very long time.”
His eyes flash with pain.
“You must rehabilitate her.” I put my hand on the back of his neck and press my forehead against his. “You must do it for both of us, brother. Go back to Samantha. Make sure she is okay.”
“What about you?”
I sigh, rubbing my bald head in agitation. “I need some time alone, comrade.”
“Are you sure?”
“Da.”
I see the agony in his eyes. His soul is torn between his concern for Samantha and his loyalty to me.
“I will be fine,” I assure him. “I just need a long walk to clear my head.”
I can tell he is hesitant to leave me alone, so I turn and call out as I walk away, “I’ll be fine!”
I wander the streets aimlessly, unsure what my future holds after tonight. I eventually find myself next to a large city park. As I walk down the jogging path, it’s not long before that prickling sensation returns, alerting me to the fact the stalker has returned.
Refusing to play the victim, I slow down and listen. As soon as I pinpoint the direction he’s coming from, I turn around abruptly and roar like a raging lion, running straight toward him in the dark.
The guy screams like a terrified girl as he bolts. Determined to catch him, I run blind. The closer I get, the more he gasps for air. It’s obvious the man is out of shape.
But just as I am about to tackle him, my foot slams into a rock and I crash to the ground, the breath knocked clean out of me.
His gasps grow fainter while I struggle to breathe and get back on my feet. A sharp pain shoots through my right ankle when I try to put weight on it.
“Gavno!” I cry out in frustration, knowing there’s no hope of catching the bastard now.
I start hobbling around, desperate to find the nearest bench.
I’m relieved when I see a lone bench lit up by the streetlight above it but, as I get closer, I see that there’s a guy curled up on it, sleeping. In no mood to walk any farther, I clear my throat to wake him.
The moment he stirs, I ask, “Mind if I sit here?”
He rolls over to face me and immediate sits up, making room. It throws me off when he puts his hands together and bows his head slightly. I look the kid over, realizing by his features that he must be of Japanese descent.
Grunting in pain, I sit down on the bench and bend down to massage my throbbing ankle.
“What happened?” he asks quietly.
I glance at the kid, who looks to be a few years younger than I am. Not in the mood for conversation, I state simply, “Twisted my ankle and just needed to get off it for a few minutes.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
We sit there in silence for several minutes before I hear his stomach growl. He pretends not to notice, keeping his serene expression.
The fact that the guy is sleeping on a park bench, makes it safe to assume he hasn’t eaten for a while. Not one to watch people suffer—unless it’s for my pleasure—I pull out my wallet and take out my cash, handing him a thick wad of bills.
He shakes his head. “I can’t accept charity. I work for my money.”
“What do you do?” I ask, respecting his pride.
The kid shrugs. “I doubt you’ve heard of it.”
“Try me,” I insist, leaving the bills on the bench while I go back to massaging my ankle.
“Are you familiar with Kinbaku?”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s the Japanese style of bondage.”
He smiles, looking genuinely pleased that I know that.
I smirk, gesturing to the park bench. “It doesn’t look like it pays very well.”
Chuckling, he sweeps his long bangs back. “I’ve just moved here from Japan and haven’t found employment yet.”
“All the more reason to take my cash,” I tell him, pushing it toward him.
His smile grows wider. “Your generosity is appreciated, but she needs it more than I do.” The kid points to an old woman sleeping on the ground, covered in a ratty blanket, her arms wrapped tightly around a shopping cart that must hold all her worldly possessions.
“Fine.” I get up, purposely not favoring my injured ankle in order to test it out. Walking over to her, I quietly stash the wad of cash in a plastic bag in the center of the shopping cart, then return to the bench and sit down.
I hand the kid a twenty I’ve kept for him. “As a fellow Dom, at least let me buy you a meal.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise and holds out his hand to shake mine. “It is a pleasure to meet another Master.”
�
��I’m Rytsar Durov. And you are?”
“Ren Nosaka.”
I shake his hand firmly, pressing the cash into his palm. “Get yourself a decent meal, Ren Nosaka.”
He stares down at the twenty in his hand, clearly feeling uneasy about taking it.
“Seems as if fate orchestrated this impromptu meeting,” I tell him, thinking back on Marquis Gray’s question.
“Why do you say that?”
Pulling out my wallet again, I find the business card I’d slipped in there after my visit to the Center and hand it to him. “You should give this place a call. I’m positive they’ll have a need for your unique talent.”
The kid reads the card aloud and smiles. “The Submissive Training Center…” He looks at me gratefully and bows his head again. “Thank you.”
I glance at the cash in his hand. “Next time, you can take me out for lunch.”
He meets my gaze, promising solemnly, “It would be my honor, Rytsar Durov.”
The kid continues to stare into my eyes.
Feeling uncomfortably exposed under his penetrating gaze, I look away as I stand up. “I need to head out.”
As I walk away, he calls out behind me, “You are strong enough for whatever comes next. Just remember to breathe.”
A chill runs down my spine. I’m surprised by the effect his words have on me. Rather than turn around and question him on it, I take it as a sign.
I know exactly what I need to do now.
Mamulya
I hate leaving my brother behind. It feels as if I am physically ripping a limb off from my body. But I have no choice.
Now I know I cannot be trusted around Samantha.
I would be in jail right now for murder if Thane hadn’t intervened. It is a terrible and sobering reality.
Although I will never forgive Samantha for what she’s done, she does not deserve to die. I cared for her…once. I’ve seen that vulnerable side of her and I know her strengths. The world would be less without her in it.
So, I must leave.
Samantha cares deeply for Thane and has proven that on multiple occasions when he was threatened. He may need her protection in the future when I’m not around, and Samantha is no coward.
While my heart still rages, I take comfort in knowing that Samantha will never have that kind of power over me again.
No woman will.
So, I’m forced to return to Russia whether I am ready or not.
The time has come to reconnect with my motherland—and my past.
Thane and Anderson come to see me off. I knew that it would be hard on Thane, but I’m surprised to see that the cattleman looks distraught as well.
“Why the long face?” I tease, pinching Anderson’s cheeks as if he’s a chubby baby.
He automatically smacks my hands away, grinning as he rubs his cheeks. “What can I say? I’m going to miss your irritating presence.”
I chuckle, but with little humor behind it—I don’t want to leave.
Anderson frowns. “I was looking forward to us graduating together since Thane is still set on graduating early. And I had the best prank planned for you…”
“I wish I could be here to enjoy it.”
“Me, too, Russki. Me, too.”
Anderson nods to Thane. “I’ll head out so you can say your goodbyes. Meet me at the diner so we can cry over coffee and cinnamon rolls about the horny Russian who got away.”
Anderson gives me one last parting sock in the shoulder before walking away.
It feels so final that I call out after him. “We’re still on with our mothers’ cooking showdown. Right, cattleman?”
He turns back and tips an imaginary hat. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Durov. But don’t hate me when my mama wins.”
I snort. “Right…”
There is a look of sadness on his face just before he turns away. If Anderson is this distressed about my departure, I can only imagine how Thane feels.
However, my comrade hides it by distancing himself emotionally. I understand and am not offended—but I am sad for us both.
I’m being forced to face a future without Thane by my side.
It’s unnerving that I’ve become a student who no longer has an appetite for learning, and a man of passion who now lacks direction and purpose.
Facing an unknown tomorrow is daunting.
“Goodbye, brother,” I tell Thane, my voice catching slightly as I hold out my hand to him.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he says, shaking my hand firmly.
“It’s the only way. We both know it.”
Thane nods curtly. “Call me once you settle in. I plan to head to Russia for a visit after I graduate. You can give me a proper introduction to your homeland then.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I admire that about you, comrade. Despite everything that’s happened, you’ve still maintained your goal of graduating a year ahead of us. Such a momentous accomplishment should be celebrated, and I will throw you a grand party in Russia, the likes of which you have never known.”
He smiles self-consciously. “I haven’t graduated yet.”
I know he will and regret that I won’t be here when he walks across the stage to receive his diploma. “I wish I could be there to cheer you on, moy droog.”
Guilt flits across his eyes but he claps me on the back. “I promise Russia will be my first stop after graduation.”
Leaning in, I whisper, “I do not blame you, brother.”
He sighs, my words undoing his carefully constructed emotional barrier. He stares at me sadly, admitting, “I’ve questioned my actions ever since that night. If I hadn’t insisted on teaching Samantha about the BDSM lifestyle…if I hadn’t introduced her to you…if I hadn’t left—”
“There is no point in questioning the past. Trust me. I’ve driven myself insane doing the same thing after I lost Tatianna.” I unconsciously clutch at my heart. The pain of narrowly missing her still claws at me. A matter of a few minutes, and I could have saved her—and me.
“No,” I assure him, “the only thing either of us can do is move forward from here. We learn from the past, da, but it helps no one to drown in it.”
Thane looks deeply into my eyes. “All the tragedy you’ve survived makes you truly unique. You are a man who will do great things, Anton. I fully believe that.”
I shrug off such a heavy burden. “I need a few years of stupidity and fun before I try to make something of myself.”
Thane nods. “You’ve certainly earned that right.”
“But I know you,” I state. “You plan to forge your future right out of college, don’t you?”
“I don’t have a choice, really. I have to do whatever it takes to ensure financial independence from the Beast.” Looking off into the distance, a slight smile curls Thane’s lips. “But I know there will come a day when she’ll come for my money—and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I tell her where to go.”
I grin, imagining the moment myself. “That will be a good day, comrade.”
“May you find closure after the many wrongs you have suffered.”
I punch my fist into my palm, grinding it. “I only know of one way to bring about the kind of closure I need.”
Thane looks concerned. “You have been gifted with intelligence. Don’t lower yourself to their level in the pursuit of revenge.”
“Don’t worry, comrade. I will strive to be creative in my extracurricular endeavors,” I assure him with a smirk.
Thane looks away with a pained expression, muttering, “Strange. I already miss you and you haven’t left yet.”
Feeling exactly the same, I reach out and give the man a hug.
“We are never far away from each other, moy droog,” I remind him, holding up my wrist to show him my scar. “We are forever connected, you and I.”
Thane stares down at his own wrist, and says nothing for a moment. I wonder what he’s thinking but, before I can ask, he holds his hand ou
t to me with a forced smile. “Until we meet in Russia.”
“Until then, brother,” I answer.
I turn to go, ignoring the sense of foreboding I have in the pit of my stomach.
I don’t want to leave him or this place…
Once I’m on the plane bound for Russia, I retreat into myself, remembering the first time my father strapped me to the whipping pole and rained his hatred down on me—proclaiming me the family’s whipping boy.
Although I grew up aware of his sadistic tendencies, I never anticipated he would inflict them on his own son. As a mere boy of five, I was not prepared the day I received that first punishment from his terrifying whip.
While I may have cried under the ferocity of his many beatings, I never gave my father the satisfaction of allowing him to conquer my spirit. I had no control over his whip, so I had to endure his punishments, but I never allowed him to touch my soul.
Looking out at the huge clouds in the distance, I shift in my seat, overcome by that unsettling feeling again.
I suspect it has everything to do with Tatianna and my reluctance to accept that she is no longer a part of this world—or my future.
I hope seeing my mother will stave off the heartache I feel in returning to Russia. Perhaps this time I will find relief from the pain that haunts me.
Hell, I still hold out hope I may find additional strength in connecting with my four brothers, now that we’ve had time apart. I won’t allow the barrier my father set between us to continue to rule over our lives.
There’s no doubt that returning home under these circumstances makes this the bravest thing I’ve ever done.
Still, I am determined to make a future for myself.
I pull out a notebook and begin sketching a picture of my mother. She is the only constant left in my life.
I begin outlining her face, filling in her delicate features—those elegantly arched eyebrows and big eyes that shine with love. I sketch her delcate nose next, followed by her high cheekbones. I smile as I draw her lips. Mamulya is always smiling—except for those times when my father makes her cry.
I snarl under my breath, refusing to let my father taint this portrait of her. I continue, trying to capture the fine wisps of hair that frame her face. When I’m done, I stare down at it, my heart feeling lighter.