Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Book 0)

by London Miller

  Fighting better and earning more money for Bastian did have its advantages. He was no longer regulated to the kennels and had been given a room in the bigger house. It wasn’t much to look at really—just a twin bed that barely fit Valon’s towering frame, a couple of blankets, and a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Bastian had ordered that Loki needed to stay in the cage with the others, but for once, Valon didn’t have to fight for the right to keep his companion. It was actually Gjarper who came to his defense, arguing that since he’d fought better after his arrival, he should be allowed to keep him. Valon might not have heard this argument himself, but when Loki was in his room one night after he’d gone a round in the ring, wagging his tail in happiness, Valon had just assumed.

  This went on for four years. He fought, he won, and he went to his room. In that time, he had changed, not just physically—he had grown several inches, nearly towering over everyone but Gjarper, his hair was shaggier, the ends nearly reaching his shoulders, and his body had went from that of a half-starved boy to a man’s—but mentally. He had learned to shut it all down. When he was in the ring, he lived in that moment. He did what he needed to do. When he was alone in his room, he wasn’t as successful with that tactic.

  Silence.

  That was the difference between the ring and his room. In the former, there was the crowd, the man he was fighting, everything around him was making noise constantly, but when he was in his room, there was only silence, forcing him to think about it, no matter if he didn’t want to or not.

  Fatos remained close, and unlike the first time when they had been reunited, there was a difference with him as they both hovered beneath the spotlight that was Bastian. Sure, Fatos got most of the favor since he was the son of a renowned member of The Organization, but it was to Valon that most gave their respect.

  Over the years, he had garnered the respect he had always craved, thanks to his time in the Pit and his now legendary skill. Since his first win, he hadn’t returned to the barn, and now that people knew what he was capable, the disdainful looks ceased and no one dared to threaten him.

  It was as if he was an entirely different person, though he didn’t feel it.

  No, that wasn’t true. He could feel the difference in him.

  He smiled less. He wasn’t prone to jokes and antics as he had been. And when he took a moment to himself in the middle of the night, he found that he was consumed with a rage he couldn’t force away as he had before. He didn’t know when he had become such an angry person, nor did he really like who he was, but he did like the benefits that the new him got him.

  More importantly, he was no longer afraid to enter the Pit and do what needed to be done. For Bastian, there was no going too far. He just let him fight until he was spent and could barely lift his arms. It was doubtful that his fights were even bid on anymore since his competency had been spoken of far and wide.

  If he had to guess, then Valon thought the men who were forced onto the dirt with him were meant to die because even when he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away long enough to just end the fight with his opponent unconscious. No, he made sure they ceased to exist.

  What would Galina think of you?

  That question often plagued him when he was coming down from the high that was hurting others, but before the idea that she was ashamed of what he had become could consume him, he needed only to think of one thing to get past it.

  Galina was dead now, and she wasn’t thinking about anything.

  -

  9

  ______

  Valon was lying on his back, hands stacked beneath his head, staring up at the ceiling, letting the pain in his hands calm him. His fight last night had been brutal, one that he had let go on for far longer than necessary. He had needed it though, the extra hits and the damage that had been done to his body. After the last three fights, stopping from killing his opponents only because someone pulled him off, Valon had been trying to find a way to keep from losing himself in the bloodlust.

  The only thing that could center him was pain. He hadn’t realized this at first. During his fight, he’d been thinking about his training for this, how whenever Gjarper landed a solid punch to his face, his vision became clearer and his thoughts more coherent. Running with that idea, he let his last opponent land a number of punches, a few to his face, another half dozen or so to his body, and when he was pulled back from the abyss that threatened to consume him, Valon knocked the man out with a single punch to the jaw.

  While Bastian didn’t look particularly thrilled that his opponent wasn’t as bloody as they normally were, he could not complain about the results of it.

  He’d been left to do as he pleased for the rest of the night, and for Valon, that meant staying awake until his body gave out and he finally passed out.

  It was going well until he heard multiple pairs of feet outside his door and soft curses that were aimed at someone he couldn’t see. Before, Valon had always jumped at the slightest sound, always worried that someone would try to sneak up on him and attack, but with the tales of his skills traveling far and wide, there was no need for him to be afraid anymore.

  Even injured, he could kill with his bare hands.

  The door was shoved open without warning, Bastian strolling in as he always did. Everyone else knocked because once when Strom barged in and startled Valon out of his sleep, he showed him how that was a bad idea.

  Not moving from his position on the bed, Valon turned his head in Bastian’s direction, his face not giving anything away as a girl was shoved into the room behind him, two of Bastian’s men taking up the doorway.

  Valon barely spared her a glance as he asked, “Am I needed?”

  “No, no.” Bastian chortled though no one else laughed. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

  Valon wasn’t particularly fond of the gifts he liked to give, but he wasn’t stupid enough to turn him down. “Oh.”

  Bastian snapped his fingers and the girl was given another shove, closer to Bastian this time. It became abundantly clear, though it wasn’t said, that the gift was whoever this girl was.

  She was barefoot, much as Valon had been when he’d first arrived, but unlike him, she had a sheet wrapped around her body, held closed by tiny fists. She had large eyes, almost too big for her oval face. She was trembling, more from fear than cold.

  That fear only made worse when Bastian gave a yank on the sheet she held, pulling it away from her body, revealing her nudity.

  He might have been a killer and was particularly brutal with his fists, but he had morals…questionable morals, but morals all the same.

  Valon kept his eyes on her face for a long moment before looking back at Bastian and the pleased smile on his face.

  “She is beautiful, no? Firm breasts and I was guaranteed she is untouched.”

  Neither of those descriptions meant anything to Valon. “Okay.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bastian explained, misunderstanding his lack of a reaction. “She’s legal.”

  Now that did mean something to Valon after seeing the girls that Bastian preferred, but he would never take his word for it. “What do you expect me to do with her?”

  Bastian laughed loudly, looking back to his men who cracked a grin at his expense. Despite their entertainment, they didn’t turn their laughter on Valon. They couldn’t even meet his eyes.

  “Enjoy her. I’ve forgotten what little you know since you’ve been so lucrative for me over these years. I’m sure she’ll teach you everything you need to know. Or would you prefer someone break her in first?”

  To that, Strom perked right up, his eyes sliding over the girl in blatant, though malicious, interest.

  The girl, whoever she was, shook her head, still trying to shield her nudity as best she could with her hands. Whether she had formed her own conclusions about Valon, she clearly saw him as less of a threat.

  While he might not have looked at her directly, Valon did notice the way she was turned in his dir
ection, clearly wanting to get away from the ones who had brought her in.

  He shouldn’t have given a shit about her. No one had ever given a shit about him since he’d arrived in this place, but even still, he found himself saying, “I’ll keep her.”

  Bastian clapped his hands together, looking entirely too pleased about that. “Good. I’ll leave these for you. Lock her up once you’re done. We don’t want our new friend to try anything while you’re sleeping.”

  He tossed Valon a pair of manacles, winking at him as he and the men headed out, but before he was gone, he slapped the girl on the ass.

  Once they were gone and the door was closed behind them, Valon climbed off the bed, rolling his shoulders as he finally took the time to look at the girl properly. Her eyes widened as she realized just how tall he was, her eyes flickering over him, lingering on his bloody knuckles.

  As he walked forward, she took an equal amount of steps back, whispering a plea, thinking that he intended to hurt her. He merely reached for the sheet that Bastian had thrown down and tossed it to her.

  He climbed back on the bed, getting right back into the position he’d been in before she was brought to him. While he might have been looking back up at the ceiling, he was very aware of her still hovering in that same spot.

  She still didn’t move from the position she was in, almost as if she thought he was toying with her and the moment she did actually try to cover herself, he would attack.

  But he wasn’t thinking about her. Rather, he was wondering what in the hell he was going to do now.

  ____

  It was like having a fucking pet, except he didn’t want this one.

  While Loki was free to roam around—no one dared tell him otherwise—she was kept locked in his room whenever he left, and even when he was there, she still sat in the same spot on the floor, bundled under a sheet. As the temperatures were steadily decreasing, Valon frowned at the sight of her there, knowing from experience how cold those floors could get.

  But she didn’t know what he had done to earn this bed, a luxury that most people even older than him took for granted. Some nights, he woke up delirious, the feel of the bedding on his skin like the blood of those he faced in the Pit. Maybe it was their close proximity, or the fact that up until this point, he had done her no harm, but while the moon still hung heavy in the sky, the house quiet for the time being, Valon shot awake once again, sweat bracketing on his skin.

  He tried to see clearly, scrubbing a hand down his face, but the more he tried to calm himself, the more he sunk deeper into the nightmare that was slowly seeping into his reality. He couldn’t think, he could hardly breathe as face after face flashed through his mind on a continuous loop, forcing him to confront memories he wasn’t ready to deal with.

  A hand came down on his shoulder, startling the hell out of him. Without taking a moment to see who the person was, Valon had a hold on their wrist, yanking them off balance. Springing from the bed, he had a hand around their throat before they could even take a breath, dropping them to the floor, using his full weight to keep whomever it was pinned there.

  He could feel them struggling to breathe beneath his hold, nails scoring down his arm for purchase as they struggled to get free. It was only then did anything penetrate his fog. None of the men he knew had long nails, nor were their hands this small.

  He repeatedly blinked , the image of the girl coming into focus, her face bright red from her lack of oxygen. He jerked his hand away, still staring at her as she took in deep breaths, coughing as she choked, her hands flying to her own neck as if she could still feel the phantom weight of his own.

  Valon frowned down at her, not because she was making a lot of noise—noise that would probably wake up others—but because a foreign sensation raced through him, one he hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages.

  “Sorry.”

  As soon as he’d uttered the apology, Valon could see the surprise on her face as she finally got her breathing under control. Considering he had barely spoken ten words to her in the short time she had been with him, he could understand why his apology for hurting her was met with this reaction. Undoubtedly, she had heard about who he was and what he did while she was being transported here by Bastian or whoever had brought her. She’d looked frightened enough, and he was glad for it, but now, he just wanted her gone.

  He got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. She gazed at it warily, and then after a few seconds, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

  He let her go a second later, looking away as he tried to fight past an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Embarrassment.

  Valon never had to worry about someone witnessing his night terrors as no one bothered him during the wee hours of the night.

  Except for this girl.

  “Do you speak?” he asked angrily, scrubbing a hand down his face as he walked to the bathroom and turned the light on. He didn’t realize that she was watching his every move until after he’d splashed his face with water and came back out. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  It would be just like Bastian to find an American girl and bring her here. If she didn’t understand what they were saying, then she couldn’t provide information to anyone who asked. And even if she could vocalize something she saw, she wouldn’t live long enough to see the outside of this place.

  “M-My name is E-Elena,” she said in English, her speech hesitant.

  His mother had taught him the language, but he still didn’t understand some words and phrases. For the moment, Valon was just glad she was talking.

  “Valon…” he said carefully, purposefully not giving her his last name. Actually, he didn’t know why he was introducing himself in the first place. With the sheer amount of people who called his name a day, she probably already knew it.

  Clearing his throat, Valon rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, looking away from her. “Did you need something when you were…” He trailed off, waving his hand, hoping she understood what he was asking.

  “Just trying to wake you up.”

  He didn’t detect any malice in her voice…and she had a nice voice. Soft. Kind. A change from the barking and the male voices he heard every day.

  “Sorry.” That was the second time he’d apologized. A record, even for him.

  He moved around her to sit at the foot of the bed, all too aware of the way she still kept her distance from him, but after he had nearly choked her to death, he understood why. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wasn’t like the others…but wasn’t he? Didn’t he step into the Pit countless times to murder people just because someone told him to?

  She was right to be afraid of him.

  Not liking the silence stretching between them, Valon said, “You don’t have to stay on the floor.” He gestured back on the mattress. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you think.”

  Valon just wasn’t built that way. He could hurt people with his fists, sometimes reveled in it, but never a female, and not in that way. Not that he knew how even if he wanted to.

  She only hesitated a moment before she walked the few, short steps to the mattress and sank down.

  He was surprised she was still okay due to the fact that she still didn’t have any clothes and it didn’t look like anyone was going to give her any. It was the least he could do…

  Back up again, he grabbed one of his old T-shirts and a pair of shorts that were probably too big for her, but it was the best he could do for now.

  Tossing them to her, he pointed to the bathroom. “You can change in there.”

  She disappeared through the door, leaving the light off, but when she emerged, he actually felt better.

  “Thank you.”

  Her gratitude made him uncomfortable, and even she looked uncomfortable. Her because she probably thought he wanted something from her now. Him because he didn’t want anything from her. Especially her gratitude. H
e might be a killer, but he wasn’t so bad that he was going to use a ruse to get something from her.

  Again, they both fell silent, but it took every ounce of self-control for Valon not to ask her questions. Where was she from…did she have any family…was anyone looking for her, or had she chosen to come here expecting something different… But he couldn’t bring himself to ask because not only was he afraid of the answer, but what else could he do about it anyway?

  Sure, there was a train station a few miles from here, but the likelihood of them reaching that place before anyone noticed they were gone was unlikely.

  Valon didn’t know how long they sat there, his thoughts wandering when she finally spoke.

  “You’re really not like them, are you?”

  He wanted to agree with that assertion with every fiber of his being, but he had never been much of a liar, and he wasn’t going to start now.

  “I’m worse.”

  -

  10

  ______

  Fatos was waiting for him in the kitchen a few days later, smirking when he noticed Valon’s entry. He’d been around far more often now that he was working his way into the Organization. When he’d first shown up, Valon thought he would be glad for his company, but now he had grown tired of his former friend.

  Not because he did anything in particular, but it was just the smaller acts that annoyed Valon now that he was around Fatos far more than when they’d been children.

  One trait about Fatos was becoming abundantly clear. He hated to lose. Whether it was a mere game being played between friends, or if he lost a bet, he did not handle it well, and Valon was seeing a side of him that he never thought he would. But more curious was that he never lost his temper with Valon, not once.