by K. Webster
His eyes expand with delight. “No, it’s supposed to last,” he says, and as fast as lightening, he pulls a blade and throws it in my direction.
I dodge, but not fast enough, and it cuts me across the top of my arm. Bastard. A crimson line appears and begins to drip down my flesh.
“Run,” he warns me, before his eyes dart to the woman behind me.
So, she’s here to be killed just like me. No doubt upset Yegor Vetrov too. Not good enough for his son, maybe?
Hiss will spend time mutilating her before coming for me. That’s what his eyes are saying as he looks between the pair of us.
“I don’t run from animals, Hiss, I hunt them.” I glower at him, goading him. Vas knew I may come up against Hiss. He taught me what to expect.
He charges my way, a stone-cold killer. He’s three times my weight and stands easily a foot taller than me. But I’ve been training non-stop for this. Lived it and dreamed about it to make sure I survive.
I have to survive.
I will survive.
I smell him as his presence invades my space, sweat musky and potent. His heavy arm swings out to hit me, but I see it coming and drop to my knees. I bring a closed fist up to connect with his balls with my left hand, then slice the blade in my right along the inside of his thigh while rolling between his legs and getting quickly to my feet behind him. He doesn’t even flinch from my inflictions and rounds on me fast. I back off to give myself some space.
My attention snaps to the blonde, who’s cowering against the metal doors. She bangs her fists against it, hoping they will let her out.
She’s a pawn.
Someone’s debt or bought for someone’s pleasure.
I hear the breathing of someone coming up behind me, and my heart skitters in my chest. I swivel to see Stepan approaching like a panther.
Shit.
I’m trapped between two killers trained and paid to make me suffer. There is no way Stepan has sought me out by chance.
Damn you, Vlad.
He just can’t let it go. I humiliated his pride. The bastard was sleeping with my sister, but that’s okay because he’s male. Fucking bastard.
“We can share,” Hiss suggests to Stepan, like he’s talking about a buffet meal.
I won’t go down without fight, you assholes.
I pound down on the heel of my foot to trigger the button there, ejecting the blades on the front of my boot. With a series of kicks, I swing toward Stepan.
Kick. Kick. Kick.
The blade grazes his cheek, but he easily dodges my moves. With a scream, I punch at him, but he’s quick and blocks them, laughing at me before shoving me hard. I crash face first against the bulletproof glass separating us from the pigs who get off on watching this shit. My face lands hard and my nose pops on impact. Blood rushes down the back of my throat, almost making me gag. I swipe a hand under my nose and wipe the blood on my pant leg.
It’s only been a few minutes, and I’m already bleeding from two places.
Get it together, Diana.
Hiss and Stepan are probably approaching me from behind, but my eyes search beyond the glass for my father. What does Leonid Volkov think about his daughter competing in The Games? I don’t see him, but I notice someone watching from directly opposite me on the inside. I lock on green eyes staring out at me from behind the glass, and my soul deflates.
He’s watching.
Ven’s hand slams against the glass, and he’s shouting, but I can’t hear the words spilling from his lips. The glass is impenetrable. I turn to find neither Hiss nor Stepan have come to finish me. Instead, they are fighting brutally against each other.
“Sorry, but I made a promise to a girl,” Stepan announces, aiming his blade toward Hiss. “Go, Diana,” he grunts. “For Irina.”
My heart skips in my chest at the thought of Irina wanting to protect me.
Hiss roars at me, but Stepan is on him. They’re trading blow for blow, neither of them appearing to outmatch the other. Taking the moment of distraction, I rush past them, keeping a distance so Hiss can’t reach out for me. I head toward the metal wall, but the girl who entered with us grabs my arm.
“Diana?” she chokes.
What? She knows me?
I don’t want to stick around, so I pull my arm free and break into a jog toward the doors taking me into another area of The Games.
Corridors with doors to other rooms line the space in front of me. Screens adorn the walls, updating bids on the people who’ve entered, and I see the blonde woman’s face appear on one of them.
Kira Baskin…two point three million. Torture. Rape. Kill.
Kira Baskin? The air rushes from my lungs. I spin around to look back and see she’s followed me through the door, but has made off in the other direction.
“Kira!” I shout, alerting her before she gets too far away from me.
She jolts and shoots me a panicked look. I wave her to me.
We were close friends when we were young, but her father messed up and they all had to go into hiding. I heard rumors that Yuri Vasiliev had the entire Baskin bloodline killed, even second cousins, because he couldn’t have Alfred.
“Come on,” I tell her, holding out my hand. The last thing I need to do is worry about keeping another person alive in here, but I can’t just leave her to the beasts. We’ve shared secrets, our youth, dreams together.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
My nose hurts and I’m getting a headache, but I can’t think about that right now. Everything hangs in the balance. Monsters lurk everywhere.
Sounds of people hurtling down the corridor toward us gain my attention. I tuck Kira behind me when a woman, shoeless and wearing a torn shirt, races at us. She doesn’t stop, keeps looking behind her, and like she summoned him with her own fear, a huge man appears, his steps measured to intimidate. He’s in no rush. The creep knows she’s his no matter what. He’s wearing leather pants and nothing else apart from a skull with horns—a deer skull or something similar. It’s eerie that he carries no weapon, as though his hands are his tool.
He slows when he sees Kira and me, but I straighten my posture and turn my wrist to show him the knife I’m carrying. He smirks at me and carries on stalking his victim. He’s not after a fight, just fear and the kill.
Screams echo around us from all directions, and laughter follows.
“What is this place?” Kira chokes out, shaking from head to toe.
“Hell,” I tell her, my voice flat. “Stay close to me.”
I head toward one of the doors and open it. There’s medical equipment laid out. A table and tools, just like an operating room you’d see in any hospital. A man dressed in scrubs stands by the table holding a scalpel. He waves his hand to gesture for me to enter.
Not today, sicko.
I slam the door closed, and move further down the corridor.
Kira has to jog to keep up with my pace. She’s sluggish almost, like her legs can’t keep her upright. A crowd of people come striding down the corridor, but they ignore us and enter one of the rooms in front of us. I take us past that room and try another. A woman dressed head to toe in leather with a giant purple strap on protruding from her crotch occupies this room, with a man bent over in front of her on what looks like a gym horse. His wrists are tied with a stretch of rope leading to his ankles. An apple has been stuffed in his mouth and he’s crying. Another man wearing a suit and tie stands close by and looks to the woman for direction. She nods her head our way, and I take that as a sign she doesn’t like sharing. Her guard marches over and slams the door in my face. There are rooms after rooms. Some destined for torture, others filled with people having orgies. All demented as hell.
“We should just join them and wait it out,” Kira begs, pulling on my arm to drag me back to one of the rooms filled with people devouring each other sexually.
“There’s nothing stopping a depraved asshole from going in there and slaughtering them all,” I educate her while looking her over. She’s
been scratching at her own fevered skin.
“What drugs do they have you on?” I demand, smacking her hand away from herself.
“I don’t know,” she breathes, closing her eyes.
I’m putting myself at risk bringing her along with me. It’s going to be a long night and she’s clueless about survival.
“I’m going to marry a prince,” Kira tells me, giggling. We try to be quiet, but whenever she stays the night, we always get in trouble. I may be nine and expected to behave, but with Kira, we can just be girls and it’s fun.
I sigh happily and think about a certain boy who just turned thirteen. “I’m going to marry a king.”
I remember the girl who had dreams, aspirations to do something with her life, and yet here she is, another victim of the bastard men who dictate our futures. When I get out of here, I’m stripping myself of everything those animals are. I’ll create my own empire and do everything I can to watch theirs burn with them in it. I feel kinship to Kira, and walking out of here with her in tow will be a smack in the face to Yegor.
“Diana,” Kira warns, her eyes widening and hand pointing behind me. I spin, bringing my blade up, and block a woman with a hammer. She growls and kicks out at me, sending me backwards. She goes for Kira, her hammer raised high. I sprint forward, shove her away, and then descend on her with a combination of kicks Vas trained me tirelessly on. My blades find purchase in her stomach, and then neck. Her hammer drops, and her hand goes to her neck wound. Blood leaks through the gaps in her fingers. I move in to finish her with a stab to her heart. Her body drops to the floor with a soft thump.
“Is she dead?” Kira sniffles.
“Yes,” I say as I pick up the hammer and hand it to her. “Now, come,” I order, just as another face appears on the screen. Artur Voskoboynikov.
Artur Voskoboynikov…one million. Torture. Maim. Kill.
Poor Artur. Another causality of an alpha man’s ego.
I look behind me when I hear a door open and see Kira disappearing inside a room. Shit. Why does she not listen? I whisper yell her name, but it’s too late.
I open the door cautiously and peer inside. There’s a glass tank in the center of the room, and people standing all around it, Kira included. I slip inside and sidle up next to her. I’m about to tear her a new one for being reckless when something moves within the tank. There’s a young girl in there, naked. She’s staring out at everyone as the tank slowly fills with water. I’m transfixed as the water keeps rising and swallowing her within it. My stomach tightens when it reaches her neck. Her head tilts back, and she tries to kick off the bottom to give herself more time. It’s fast, consuming her entirely. The people watching her are transfixed with curiosity. Others are pleasuring themselves as they watch her eyes grow impossibly wide, her mouth screaming open as the water races inside her. Then, as fast as it came, the water recedes, and she’s left gasping at the air while choking up water all in the same breath. Her hands splay against the glass as she fights to bring oxygen into her lungs, then the water begins filling the container once more. I slowly back out of the room, dragging Kira by the elbow with me.
“You can’t just wander off like that,” I scold her once we’re outside the room.
“I just don’t like being out here, all vulnerable,” she whimpers. “I’m scared.”
She has a point. Being in the corridors is dangerous for us. We need to find somewhere to lay low for a while.
I double back to the room with the medical guy inside. There’s another man who’s joined him, plus someone on the table. The man who joined steps out from the shadow, and it’s then I realize this must be his guard, his fighter, the one who goes off to bring him victims to maim. The fighter comes at me, fists clenched. I block a couple of his hits, but one catches me in the jaw, making my entire skull rattle. He’s strong, and my head swims a little. I turn to block another of his flurry of punches, and then a crunch sounds and he falls to the floor in front of me. Kira stands behind where he just was, holding up the bloody hammer, her eyes wild and manic.
“Oh God, that was gross.” She shivers, dropping the hammer that has a hunk of hair stuck to it.
“Thank you,” I breathe, a genuine laugh tickling from my lips.
“Out!” the man wearing scrubs barks, pointing a drill at us. The man on his table is gagged and bleeding from multiple holes on his torso.
“Nope. I’m afraid we need to borrow your room,” I tell him, gripping my blade.
Screams.
Chanting.
Grunting.
Noises from outside the room are unsettling as the night wears on. It’s become the theme song to this nightmare we’ve been thrust into. A few people have tried to come in here, but after seeing the man now dead on the table and the other bodies in the room, they thought better of it and moved on.
A loud crash has both Kira and I screaming in surprise.
The door is kicked clean off the hinges, and a man steps through, wielding a hammer that could rival Thor’s. As soon as he sees us both, he smirks. A scar tugs down his right eye, making him look like something from a horror movie. Blood coats his skin, and he’s wearing a rubber top with spikes coming out of it.
Where the hell do they find these freaks?
“I’m going to fuck you first,” he jeers, pointing to Kira. Then he points to me. “And then I’ll wear her pussy like a hat while I fuck you.”
The room seems to shrink as the beast takes up the space.
My attacks will do nothing to a man of his size. Hell, even Vas was no match for me when we trained. I have to outwit this freak, just as my brother taught me.
I whip off my belt and fist it in my free hand. I drop as he approaches and bury my knife into his foot, rolling behind him. While he’s momentarily pinned, I leap onto his back, wrap my belt around his neck, and twist my body around so I’m hanging from him like a pendant on a necklace from his back. I press into his muscles and yank on the belt, hoping to cut off his air supply. His hammer crashes to the floor, and he swings his body, his hands going for the belt at his neck. He yanks at it, and my body jolts up his back. Shit!
“Kira!” I scream.
Darting toward us, she grabs hold of my waist, pulling down. Together, we use all our strength to bring him down. Eventually, he weakens and collapses face first.
With a groan, I roll off his back and take a minute to regain composure.
“He was worth half a million,” a deep voice says from the doorway that no longer bears a door to keep curious predators at bay.
Artur Voskoboynikov.
Seems like years ago when I was rooting for him to date my sister. Then, he was an ally. I can only hope he still is.
“Good, I need the money.” I smile as I rise to my feet.
He grins back at me and motions behind him. “It’s no longer safe here. Let’s go.”
As we follow him into the corridor, I notice the blood soaking his forearms and the Mace strapped to his back.
“You’ve been busy?” I quirk an inquisitive brow.
“Kill or be killed. You know the rules, Miss Diana. I’m only killing those who benefit my bank account.” He winks, and it’s like we’ve bumped into each other at a café, not a bloodbath.
“Sorry I took your paycheck,” I say, pointing toward the giant in the room we just vacated. “There’s plenty more.”
He smirks, and with that sentence, my face appears on the screen beside us, lighting up the dark corridor.
Diana Volkov…one million. Rape. Kill.
Charming.
Yegor couldn’t rape me himself, so he pays someone else to.
Artur’s gaze hardens, and we’re no longer friends in a café. We’re two opponents. Violence flashes in his eyes, reminding me he’s no ally of mine.
I’m swift as I swing my hand up and bury my dagger into Artur’s chin. Shock ignites in his eyes as his hands curl around my wrist in an attempt to free himself.
Emotion burns in my throat, but I sw
allow it down. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, wincing. “Kill or be killed. I can’t take the risk.” Tears blur my vision as I fight to free my dagger from his skull, his life quickly draining from him in a pool of crimson. I don’t take pleasure in killing him. In fact, with all I’ve seen since entering this horror house, this is what has bile rising in my throat. He was a friend, but I already have too many warriors out for my blood and the bounty payout is too tempting for someone who wants to build a name for themselves.
Especially a Voskoboynikov.
Their First Family status is at stake.
He would have turned on me.
To make his father proud.
It’s what we do.
Fire blazes in my chest as I turn the hate for the men who head our families into pure, unfiltered adrenaline. It buzzes and hums below my surface, fueling me on.
Kira’s scream is deafening behind me.
I jerk my head to discover Hiss has a handful of her hair in his grasp, her body flat against his as he holds a knife to her throat
“Drop your weapon,” he warns, applying pressure to her throat, causing her to cry out. Dammit.
I throw the knife to the ground and hold my hands up in defeat. A smug smile spreads over his face, but drops when a crowd of men come running toward us. They crash into me, sending me hurtling into the wall. My head hits hard, causing me to lose my footing. Feet stomp over me like a horde of wild boars. I tuck my body up, but a boot collides with my skull, and all light fades from my vision.
My head is pounding and every part of my body is on fire. Sore wounds cause me to whimper as I regain consciousness. My eyelids feel weighted, but I force them to open. The light is intrusive, and I wince against its assault. A strong whiff of iron stings my nose, and it’s then I become fully aware of where I am. I push at the body I’m lying next to and scurry backwards. Blood—there’s blood everywhere. I’m back at the start, where I first came through. The body next to me is Stepan’s. I reach out, but stop myself when I see the deep cut across his throat. Hiss must have killed him. Vlad will be so angry with this outcome. Good.
I startle when I hear a grunt from behind me. Jumping to my feet, my legs protest and I nearly fall down. Unsteady, I search my surroundings. There are bodies all over the place.