Chapter 12
Valon used to draw out the fights, make his opponents believe they had a chance at beating him, but with the thought of Elena waiting back for him in his room, he was eager to get this over with.
With a kick to the sternum, he sent the unfortunate man who was in the ring with him to the ground, walking over him without looking back. The crowd wasn’t as keen on him leaving the way he was, especially since he hadn’t drawn as much blood as he normally did. They didn’t care that the man was unconscious on the ground; it was about the show for him.
Over his last few fights, Bastian had shown his displeasure with the way Valon was fighting, but he had never vocalized it. Tonight, however, Bastian was back to his usual self, though there was a calculated gleam in his eye that bothered him, but instead of paying it any mind, Valon waited for his nod of approval before leaving the ring.
Walking the short distance back to the house, Valon swiped a hand over his shaved head, his muscles aching at the movement. As he got closer, he frowned seeing Loki sitting outside, his ears perking up as he noticed Valon’s approach. Even during the rare times that Loki was waiting for him, his tail always thumped wildly, but tonight he whined and even when Valon rubbed his head, he still made the noise.
“Let’s go.”
Entering the house, Valon couldn’t help but notice the startling odor that permeated the air. Everything was quite the same day in and day out in this place, so whenever there was something different, no matter how small that change was, he noticed it.
The house was quiet, a little too quiet, but this was usually the case when he had a big fight. Most came out to watch or bet on him. Surprisingly, however, Strom wasn’t sitting at the table watching television as he usually did.
Putting it out of his mind, Valon turned the corner and ran into Fatos. He was one of the few who never seemed bothered by the sight of the blood covering him. Sometimes he wondered if they shared the same sickness for brutality.
With a chin nod in his direction, Valon moved to walk around him but came up short when Fatos blocked his path.
“What do you want?”
“Have you no time for me anymore?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together as he regarded Valon.
An emotion was in his eyes that Valon couldn’t quite read. Maybe on another day, he would have cared to find out what it was, but tonight he was busy.
“I’m busy, Fatos.”
Just over his shoulder, he could see men walking out of his room, and when they caught sight of him at the end of the hall, they paled and hurried off, but not before he noticed the sheets and towels they carried, one stained red.
“Where’s Elena?” Valon asked Fatos, and his tone was anything but playful despite the fact that Fatos was now smiling at him, an expression that did nothing to quell the anxiety Valon felt.
“Don’t worry,” he said placing a hand on his shoulder. “I made sure she understood.”
Valon didn’t think before he had his hand around Fatos’ throat and shoved him back against the wall with enough force that his head bounced against it. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“She was trying to distract you from what’s important. I—”
His heart beat just a little faster as he looked from Fatos to his door, and then squeezed his eyes shut as his hand tightened reflexively. “Fatos, what did you do?”
As he waited for the answer that he knew he wouldn’t like, Valon was suddenly struck with a memory from grade school, of a time when Fatos hadn’t gotten what he wanted. They were different then, just two boys smaller than the others. As it had always been, Valon was usually picked on by the older boys, not just because of who his father wasn’t, but because of who his mother was.
Fatos, in his blind loyalty, had never taken well to anyone bullying Valon, especially if he could do something about it.
One night, Fatos had two of his father’s men kidnap the worst of Valon’s bullies and had them tie him to a pole in the middle of town. Fatos had dragged Valon out with him on this night to this place, and seeing the boy, whose name was Esteban—a name that Valon would never forget—he had promptly asked what was going on.
Fatos had merely smiled, then began picking up rocks on the side of the road and started pelting the boy with them with no explanation.
Oh, Esteban had begged, promised to never say anything against them ever again, but Fatos never stopped, never stopped throwing those rocks until the boy was bloody and unresponsive. At one point, he had asked Valon to join in, to hurt the boy the way he had hurt Valon. But Valon, who was too shocked to do anything more than stand there, never lifted a finger.
He should have known what Fatos was capable of, and he should have warned Elena about it, but he had been too arrogant, believed too much in his own strength that he’d never thought the one closest to him would hurt him.
Not like this.
Shoving away from him before he could answer, Valon hurried to his room, Loki at his heels, ignoring Fatos calling him back.
Fear choked him for the first time in years as he stood at the mouth of the door, too afraid to face what he knew was awaiting him. But whatever Fatos had done, Valon would fix it.
She was on her side, her back to him, but it was obvious that she was in tremendous pain from the way she trembled. Soft moans passed her lips, but a cloth that was stuffed in her mouth muffled them.
“Elena…”
He kept his voice low, but even so, she flinched, making him feel worse than he already did. Slowly walking toward the bed, he tried to prepare himself for what he might find when he got to her. He wouldn’t put it past Fatos to rape her, and while he might not have been able to fix that, he could be there for her to help her heal.
“Elena,” he called her name again, laying his hand gently on her shoulder as he turned her over.
She didn’t resist, didn’t fight back, but as her face came into view, he realized why. He might not have known what Fatos had used, but he saw the grisly result of it.
Nearly half of her face was burned, from her forehead to her chin, and even spots on her neck as well.
Valon didn’t realize his hands were trembling until he took the cloth out of her mouth.
“Hurts…it hurts.”
Slipping out of the bed, careful not to jostle her, he went to the bathroom, wetting a rag, and grabbing the first aid kit from beneath the sink.
He bandaged her wounds as best he could, gingerly cleaning off the blood, applying the only ointment he had available to him before applying the bandage and taping it into place. Whether from fatigue or pain, she remained silent through most of it.
Valon had grown used to others staring up at him with sad, pleading eyes as they tried to find any way they could for them to avoid death. And yet, as Valon moved to sit across from her, regret heavy in his heart, he didn’t see any of that from her.
No, she looked resigned, as though she didn’t care whether she lived or died.
Something, a piece of him that he had thought had long since died inside of him clicked back on. For once, he felt remorse for his actions.
“What can I do to fix this?” he asked though he knew, despite everything he was capable of at this point, there was nothing he could do to give back what she had lost.
There was a void in her eyes as she faced him. She didn’t even seem to notice him gently stroking her hair.
“Kill me,” she whispered.
Her words could have been yelled and they would have had the same effect on him. Valon pulled his hand away. Every part of his being rebelled at the idea of ending her life.
“I—”
“Please…I can’t…please.”
She had never begged for anything since she had arrived, not even her freedom, which only told him of the strength of her desire to die.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. And that was the only thing he could say because there were no other words he could offer.
Reaching into the
bedside table, he pulled out some of the pills Gjarper had given him, ones that were meant to numb the pain he felt after his brawls. Instead, he helped Elena sit up, placing both on her tongue, then pouring just enough water in her mouth to wash them down. She didn’t resist for a second.
It took a few minutes, but they finally began to kick in as her body relaxed in his arms, and no sooner than that, she finally passed out.
Valon left her there, alone on the bed as he sat in the corner, the same place she had occupied for the better part of six weeks. So quickly had her walls worn down, had she opened herself to him, becoming the one thing he’d needed to escape the darkness he had fallen under after years under Bastian’s care.
He had failed her.
He was meant to protect her from this, from what being with him would cause.
She had trusted him with so much of herself…and what had he done.
Gotten her hurt. Disfigured.
And undoubtedly, she would suffer more the longer she remained with him because this was only a warning. Fatos was capable of much worse and could have done much worse.
Once, he had considered helping her but banished the idea.
Now?
Now he had no choice.
Chapter 13
“Elena…Elena.”
Valon woke her up gently, his hand on her shoulder, his body hovering over hers. She came awake violently, lurching away from him until she realized that it wasn’t Fatos above her. But even as she calmed, she still didn’t look particularly happy that she was there with him, not like she used to.
In the span of a couple of days, Fatos had managed to take away the only real friend Valon had made. He had ruined her in a way that no matter if she looked in the mirror, or if she even looked at Valon, she would always think of Fatos.
But as Valon lay awake over the course of the night, consumed by guilt, he refused to let this be the end for her.
She had asked him to kill her, to end the pain that she was going to live with if she remained here…he would give her something better.
“We have to go.”
“Valon…what are you talking about?”
Her eyes were closing again, probably from the drugs he had given her last night, but if he was going to get her out of this place, they needed to go. Now.
“Elena!”
But she was too groggy to do anything more than nod her head.
Sliding out of the bed, Valon slipped an arm beneath her legs and another around her shoulders, lifting her as best he could. She groaned with the moving, blinking her eyes open as she squinted at him.
“What are you doing, Valon?”
“Do you want to leave this place?”
That seemed to finally get through to her. “Are we leaving?”
No, Valon probably could never leave this place. “Yes,” he lied because he didn’t think she would go if he said only her. “Can you walk? Do you need my help?”
He set her down as he asked, checking her bandages as he did so.
“I’m fine. Let’s just go. Where’s Loki? Are we bringing him?”
He almost smiled. She cared as much about him as she did their own safety, but Valon needed Loki to stay there and guard the door. It would buy them more time.
Luckily for them, there wasn’t much for them to take since she usually wore his clothes, and it wasn’t like he was leaving anyway.
Outside his bedroom door, he crouched down so that he was eye level with Loki, making sure he got his command across. “No one goes in, understand.”
He didn’t have to tell him twice. Loki made a little circle then sat in front of the door.
Grabbing hold of Elena’s hand, he led her through the hallways, out through the back where the least amount of guards were stationed. Valon had learned the layout of this place, and the woods that made up the backyard were second nature to him. As they crossed through, however, he did make a stop beneath a giant oak tree, digging his hands into the dirt until he uncovered the little sack he had buried so many years ago. He didn’t have time to go through it; he just stuffed it in his pocket and kept going.
From his old apartment, the train station was about a thirty-minute walk, but adding in the distance from Bastian’s compound, it was much further.
Valon didn’t complain, and when it grew to be too much for Elena, he carried her on his back until they reached the station. Because of the sheer amount of times he had won in the Pit, Bastian had begun to give him small stipends. Since he lived in the compound, there was very little that he bought himself.
At the counter, Valon looked the frightened old woman in the face. “Ticket to anywhere, and I’ll give you two hundred euros if you make no record of it.”
He might have looked dangerous, but most people cared more about money than looks.
When the ticket and boarding pass was printed, Valon walked with Elena over to a vending machine, getting her a soda and a bag of chips, and then he handed over the jacket from when he was thirteen that no longer fit him, but probably would fit her. When she had it on and zipped, he pressed all the money he had to his name into her hand.
She looked from it to him, and he saw the very moment when she realized that he wouldn’t be coming with her. “Valon, they’ll kill you.”
“Maybe.”
“Why won’t you come with me?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes. “We can start over somewhere.”
“They’ll look for me first, and that’ll give you more time to get away from here. Otherwise we both die and what good would that do us?” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. It didn’t matter what Fatos had done to her, she was still beautiful to him. “Be free for the both of us.”
A train horn blared in the distance, growing ever closer.
When she still looked reluctant to walk away from him, he said, “When this is all over and every single one of them is dead, I’ll find you.”
He drew her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as the train came slowly into the station, the doors opening as others stepped off and more stepped on. It was time for her to go.
“I love you, Valon.”
He smiled brokenly, accepting her words, even when he knew she didn’t mean them. It was his fault she had gotten hurt. And it was his fault that her face would never look the same again.
No, she couldn’t love somebody like him.
No one could.
Letting her go, he took a step back, urging her with his eyes to get on the train. After a brief hesitation, she did exactly that, handing over her pass to one of the people inside. He didn’t know how far she would get, but he hoped for her sake that she at least made it out of the country.
As the train whistled again, announcing its departure, he held her gaze and mouthed the words, “I love you, too.” She had been a true friend to him, and now that he knew what that was like, he would cherish this memory.
He remained there long after he had lost sight of her, thinking of what he’d given up but also of what he had gained. There was no question that what he did was the right thing to do, but the guilt still ate at him for how long he had allowed her to suffer—even if he had been blind to it—and ultimately, the price she’d had to pay for his selfishness.
Valon tucked his hands into his pockets, his head held high as he headed back to the place he’d called home for the last five years. He’d turned a blind eye to the life he’d led in that place, becoming the very thing they had wanted, but now…who was he now?
He wasn’t a mindless killer like they wanted…
He wasn’t the man Elena had wanted him to be…
Maybe one day he would find out. Maybe one day he would be better than he was.
Valon saw the car coming toward him but didn’t bother to move out of the way, a part of him hoping that he would get hit and end it all. He had been wandering for hours, so the likelihood of them knowing which train Elena was on was slim, not to mention they couldn’t have known what time they’d left.
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Stopping, Valon waited, a smile spreading on his lips when Strom climbed out of the back seat and pointed a gun at him. That little grin made him unsure, but he merely tightened his hold, more assured when Fatos got out next.
Unlike Strom who looked angry, Fatos looked…disappointed.
“Bastian is waiting for you.”
Valon shrugged and started walking toward the car, ignoring their looks of surprise. Did they think he would run? He didn’t care much about anything anymore, not even his life.
The ride back was uneventful and unbearably quiet, but Valon just rested his head against the glass window and thought about where he would have been if he’d gone anywhere but to Bastian.
There were more waiting when they arrived back, most staring at him as though they couldn’t understand his actions. No, they wouldn’t.
Valon didn’t need the escorts because he wasn’t afraid to face Bastian’s wrath. He was waiting inside the barn, his face flushed red with anger.
“Where’s Loki?”
“Oh, shut—”
When Strom moved to grab him, Valon struck first, dropping him with one hit. They could do this one of two ways. Either he got the answer he wanted and he accepted whatever punishment Bastian decided on, or he would break every single person in the room and not think twice about it.
“He’s still locked in your room. No one has touched him.”
His answer given, Bastian nodded for the others to tie him up, and this time, Valon didn’t fight back.
“Women,” Bastian said conversationally as he ignored the men zip-tying Valon’s wrists, hefting him up onto one of the hooks dangling from the ceiling. “They can destroy the best of partnerships. No, the best relationships. Have I not been good to you, Valon? Have I not given you everything you have asked for and more? Where is your loyalty, boy? I hand you the world, and you spit in my face.”
Valon, all the while Bastian was speaking, stared at the ground, not in fear, but because he didn’t feel the heaviness he normally did. When he finished a round in the Pit, there was always that sinking feeling in his gut that kept him awake at night. But this…this act of defiance had taken some of that away.
The City Page 16