by Tillie Cole
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.
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.
Talia moved in my arms, her face coming into view. I drank in her face and my chest seemed to grow bigger. Her face looked peaceful as she slept. Her big eyes were closed, but still beautiful. Her little nose twitched as she dreamed. Her pink lips parted as she slowly breathed in and out, in and out.
I was tired. I fought the pull of sleep, but with Talia’s soothing breathing and warm touch against my body, my eyelids won the battle to close. As I drifted off, I held her to my chest, refusing to let her go.…
I lay in the sun by the stream. I loved being outside. I loved the feel of the sun on my face, of the birds singing in the trees.
I heard footsteps crunching the long grass behind me, and suddenly the sun was blocked from my face. I knew who it was, and I didn’t even open my eyes as I felt him before me. “Move,” I said. A foot kicked my leg. A laugh tore from my brother’s throat and I felt him drop down to lie beside me.
“You’re always out here,” he said. I rolled my head to the side and opened my eyes. His face, identical to mine, was looking right at me.
I shrugged. “I like the sun. I like the warmth. I hate the darkness. If I could live in forever sunshine, I would.”
My brother nodded with a smirk on his face, then looked up at the clouds in the sky. We were always together, him and I. Wherever he went, I went. Mama used to say we were a team, better together than we’d ever be apart.
“Papa’s called a meeting today,” he said. I closed my eyes. “He wants us to be with him. He’s meeting with the men from Kutaisi. They’re all coming here.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “I don’t want to go.” I thought of the head of that clan. “The man, the leader always stares at us. He makes me feel strange. I hate him.”
My brother was silent for a moment, then said, “I feel like that around him, too.”
I snapped my eyes open and turned to my side. My brother did the same, the two of us lying on our sides so we could talk. “You do?” I whispered.
“Yes. He … he makes shivers go down my spine.”
I took a deep breath and looked into my brother’s brown eyes. “I think Papa likes him.”
My brother’s eyes narrowed. “I think he does, too.”
“I don’t trust him,” I admitted. My brother reached out and laid his hand over mine.
“Nor do I.” I took a deep breath and I could feel my cheek twitch in nerves. “But we have to go. We have to become strong men to lead our clan.”
My brother released his hand and I stared at his face. “You’ll lead. You’re the oldest. You’re the heir.”
He laughed, and it made me smile. “By four minutes.”
I shrugged, but his hand squeezed mine. “No, brother. You’re my twin. Grandmama says we share strength. We’ll lead together. We will always be together. We’re stronger together. You know this.”
Losing my smile, I nodded my head. “I know. But you’ll always be my older brother to me.” My brother smiled. We both lay down on our backs.
“Papa wants us to cut our hair,” my brother said. I turned my head to face his. “I told him we liked it long. Grandmama agreed. I think we’ll be able to keep it long.” He looked over at me and smiled. “It’s long and black, like Georgian warriors of old used to wear.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “we’ll never cut it and we will always be warriors.”
“You and me,” my brother said.
“You and me,” I agreed.
“And me!” a little voice called from behind us. I smiled and rolled onto my knees. A little girl was hiding in the grass. Her long black hair stood out against the tall green grass.
My brother rolled his eyes, then closed his eyes, his face soaking in the hot sun. But I stretched up, smiled at my little sister hiding in the field.
“Mmm … did you hear something, brother?” I said, and heard my sister’s giggle from a few feet away.
My brother grunted, too busy falling asleep.
I crept forward and said aloud, “It sounded like Zoya. Didn’t you think it sounded like Zoya?” I played along.
More laughter came from just in front of me. Two brown eyes appeared in the grass, so dark they looked like darkness itself.
“Mmm … I wonder where she could be?” I said, and pretended to search the grass. When her giggles became too loud to ignore, I couldn’t help but smile. In seconds, my five-year-old sister jumped from the grass and ran straight at me. Her laughing face was the last thing I saw before she launched into my arms, knocking me back, near my brother.
My brother cracked one eye and, smirking, shook his head at my sister. Then he went back to sleep.
Zoya pulled back and her little hands pressed against my cheeks as she sat on my lap. “Sykhaara,” she said to me, using Grandmama’s pet name for me, “my sweetness,” “I came to get you. Papa wants you both home ‘now’!” I laughed as she imitated our papa’s deep voice. She laughed when I laughed. “He said some men are coming and you have to dress up and meet them. ‘You have to learn the family business’!” she imitated again, her little hands on her hips.
My brother laughed at our little sister as he stayed in his position beside us and Zoya nodded her head meaningfully. Her eyebrows pulled together and she asked, “Who are the men?”
I tapped the end of her nose. “Papa’s friends.”
“Ohhh,” she replied, “so they’re my friends, too?”
My brother this time sat up. His face was serious. “Yes, they’re your friends, but just be careful, okay, Zoya. They’re dangerous men.”
Her face was serious and she nodded her head, repeating, “Friends, but be careful. They’re dangerous.”
“Yes,” I said, but that hollow feeling was back in my stomach. The three of us walked back toward the house, Zoya in my arms.
Her finger pointed to my face. “One, two, three,” she counted tapping the side of my left cheek.
“What are you doing?” I asked. She prodded my upper cheek.
“One, two, three,” she repeated, “the moles beside your eye.”
She reached out and put her hand on our brother’s face. “You don’t have them.”
“No,” he said, reaching out and tickling her ribs. Our sister screamed and laughed until our brother stopped and ruffled her black hair.
“It’s okay,” she said, and tapped his shoulder. “He has one for each of us.” She pointed to me, “one,” then pointed to herself, “two,” then pointed to our brother, “three.” She nodded her head proudly. “One mole for each of us.”
I turned her face to look at me. “And what about the babies? What about your other brother and sister? I don’t
have five moles. I don’t have enough for all of us.”
She scowled. “Uh-uh. They’re babies. They cry and cry.” She put one of her hands on my face and one on my brother’s. “You’re mine. My big twin brothers. The babies have each other. Papa said when you’re big and strong you’ll protect me and no one will hurt me because you’ll scare them all away.”
My brother moved over and whipped her from my arms. He threw her in the air and she squealed. He pulled her to his chest, kissed her on her cheek, and said, “And that’s true. We’ll always protect you.”
“I know,” she said smugly, and pointed that little finger between the three of us again. “One, two, three … Zoya, Zaal, and An—”
I gasped and my eyes snapped open. I lurched forward. Sweat poured from my body. My hands were shaking. I looked down at my hands, they wouldn’t stop shaking. I blinked and blinked and searched for air, the little girl’s words circling my mind.…
One, two, three. Zoya, Zaal, and An—
Pain stabbed behind my eyes as I tried to remember more. I shouted out in frustration. The pain blocked something in my mind, something I wanted to remember.
You’ll forget them all, Master’s voice ordered. A chain whipped along my back, hands tied behind my back as I hung off the wall. You’re mine. You have no past, no family, no other thought than to kill. You’re a killer. You’ll kill for me. Only me.
“Zaal?” Talia’s soft voice suddenly cut into my racing mind. Her hand landed on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, trying to use it to calm.
I could feel her moving beside me. Suddenly, she spread her legs over my lap and placed her palm on my cheek. “Shh…” she soothed. “It was only a dream. You’re safe, you’re here with me.”
Papa said when you’re big and strong you’ll protect me and no one will hurt me because you’ll scare them all away.
“Zaal!” Talia pushed, and raked my damp long hair back from my face. “Look at me. Please.”
I did as she ordered and locked on to her brown eyes. I swallowed and asked, “Who am I?”