by Tillie Cole
The guards moved out of my way as I strode forward. Jakhua stood against the wall and watched me. He never took his piss-small dark eyes from me. I stood before him, fire filling my veins.
I breathed. Just worked on breathing as the man that slaughtered my family stood before me. And I was free. No drugs depriving me of my memories, making me forget who I was.
Just me and him.
Me and the man who was about to die.
Walking to the table where Jakhua kept his weapons, the very weapons he’d used on me as a child to bring me under control, I looked at them all lined up in neat rows.
I knew what I was looking for. The weapons he’d made me train with as a child in a cage. Made me kill others in a cage to prove my strength.
My hands twitched as my eyes fell on a flash of black metal. My heart pumped as I reached for a set of black sais. Sharp and deadly black sais.
I moved before Jakhua. His eyes widened as I twirled the sais in my hands. The room was silent as the guards and Luka all watched me.
Walking to Jakhua, I lifted my right sai and placed the thin blade at his stomach. I pushed forward, all the time looking into his eyes … eyes that bulged as the hard steel slowly pierced his gut.
Lifting my other hand, I dropped the sai to the ground. I wrapped my fingers around his throat. I squeezed hard and made sure he looked right into my eyes as he struggled for breath.
His arms tried to hit at my back, but I didn’t even feel them. Jakhua’s face reddened as I slowly and painfully stole his life.
Then with the sai still plunged inside his stomach, I twisted and slowly dragged it up. The blade sliced through flesh. It tore through organs and scraped against bone in agonized slowness.
And all the time I stared into his eyes. The last face he would ever see would be that of a Kostava, the only surviving heir of the family he hated most.
Blood tried to surge up his throat. I squeezed my hand tighter, Jakhua choking as my hand tightened. Still my sai continued to cut. Then just as the life left his body, I ripped the sai from his torso, released my hand from around his neck, and watched as his body slumped down the wall, blood pouring from his wounds.
Stepping back, I looked at the guards all holding their rifles in readiness. With Jakhua’s dying eyes looking at me, I ordered, “Fire!”
The Bratva’s guards followed my command, raining bullets straight into Jakhua’s flesh, the force of the bullets at such close proximity ripping his body to shreds.
I watched as his eyes glazed with imminent death. When the firing stopped, a weight fell from my chest. He was dead. Jakhua was dead.
Silence filled the room. Hearing a noise from behind, I whipped around just in time to see the man in the white coat drop to the ground. Luka stepped back from the man, wiping his knuckle-dusters on his pants. He’d slit the white coat’s throat.
My eyes fell on Luka, then on the man in the white coat, then finally back to Jakhua. I glanced down at my hands; they were shaking. I stared at my bloodied hands, and images of my family raced through my mind. My chest grew tight. I felt like all of my blood had drained from my body.
My knees hit the ground. A pressure built in my stomach, traveling up my throat. Shaking with too much emotion, too many memories blocking my mind, I tipped my head back and screamed.
I screamed and screamed until the pressure left me. One single realization took its place as I sat, weakened, on the ground.
I was free.
I was finally free and completely free.
Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned. Luka Tolstoi was behind me. He met my eyes and said, “We need to leave.”
“Where do I go?” I asked, my voice rough and raw.
“To Talia,” Luka replied. Any tension, any anger I had remaining, left my body at the simple mention of her name.
I nodded and got to my feet. “Yes,” I said, “take me to Talia.”
* * *
“Let’s go,” Luka said as we pulled up to a house.
I stared at the large house and took a deep breath. It was the Tolstoi house. I looked to Luka. “I will not be welcome.”
Luka sighed and opened the van’s door. I followed him onto the dark street. I stood, looked at the house and my heart clenched. Talia was in that house. My Talia was in that house.
And I needed her. I wanted to see her again so much that all my muscles ached at the thought.
Luka laid a hand on my shoulder. I wore a sweatshirt and pants. But my skin was covered in Jakhua’s blood. My hair was not smooth.
Talia liked my hair smooth.
“She’s inside,” Luka said, and walked up some stairs. He glanced back, and taking a deep breath, I walked behind him.
Luka opened the door and walked toward a room. I could hear voices and, with each step, my heart beat faster and faster.
I was a Kostava in a Tolstoi house.
I was hated.
My father had killed Talia’s dedushka.
They had cause to hate me. I should not be here.
Luka walked into the room first. I heard relieved voices rushing to greet him. I remained behind the wall.
I had no family.
I did not know how it was to be in a family. I did not know how to act around people.
The room then went quiet. Luka came back into the hallway. “Come,” he said, and walked back into the room.
Inhaling through my nose, I stepped forward and rounded the corner.
I stopped in the entranceway. Every face looked my way. My gaze fell on two men standing at the back of the room, one who bore a strong resemblance to Luka.
Ivan Tolstoi, I thought.
Luka’s wife was there, wrapped in his arms. An older woman was there staring at me, a curious look on her face.
My pulse thundered as they all watched me in silence.
Then I heard a gasp from behind me. My muscles tensed as light footsteps approached. I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I exhaled, and turned. I saw the golden hair first, then a set of brown eyes.
Talia.
A cry of relief sounded from her mouth as she entered the room and moved before me. Her trembling hand covered her lips as tears ran down her cheeks.
She looked at me as if I were not real. Then, on a sigh, she ran forward and jumped into my arms. “Zaal,” she cried, and wrapped her arms around my neck.
Holding her in my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist, I crushed her to my chest. “Talia,” I whispered back, and tucked my nose into her neck.
I held her tightly.
I never ever wanted to let go.
She was mine.
I was hers.
We were each other’s.
Talia pulled back, and crushed her mouth against mine. As our lips connected, my soul filled with her kiss. Always full for Talia.
Her hands pushed into my hair and she broke away. “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes dropping to my chest and arms.
“He did not drug me,” I assured. More tears ran down Talia’s cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I asked remembering her chained up and hurt on the wall.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Lifting my hand to her face, I pressed my forehead to hers and whispered, “You are … for me.”
Talia smiled. “I am … for you,” she whispered back, and wrapped me in her arms once again.
I would have held her forever, but someone coughed from behind us. Talia tensed in my arms. Slowly she pulled back and my pulse spiked when I saw the fear in her eyes.
Talia released herself from my arms and slid gently to the floor. Threading her hand through mine, she led me forward, straight to the two men in dark suits. Dark suits like Jakhua used to wear.
“Papa, Pakhan,” Talia said quietly, “this is Zaal.” She swallowed and added, “Zaal Kostava. My love.”
Both men stared at me. The room was silent and thick with tension. Talia reached out her free hand and took the arm of the man with longer hair, the one
that looked like Luka. “Papa,” she said confidently, “I love him. I love him with my whole heart. I know you may not approve, and if you don’t it won’t change a thing. I love you, you know this. But I am head over heels in love with this man, and I want you to accept him as my other half.”
Talia’s father watched me as his daughter spoke. I was so proud, so floored at how Talia bravely fought for our love, but could also see the hatred for me in his dark stare. Talia curled herself back into my arms as her father’s cold expression spoke volumes.
“Papa,” Luka said from behind. I turned and met Luka’s eyes. I shook my head, telling him without words not to defend me, and Luka quieted. Talia stepped to the side.
Turning back to the Volkov Pakhan and Ivan Tolstoi, I stepped forward and laid my hand on my chest. “I am Zaal Kostava. I am the son of Iakob Kostava, the man who murdered your father.”
Ivan’s face hardened.
“But I am not my father,” I stressed. “I was not raised in that life. I was taken as a child, like Luka, and forced under Jakhua’s control.” I breathed in a long breath, and looked to Talia. “I am in love with Talia. I wish to stay, with Talia.”
Talia’s hand reached out for mine and I took it briefly. I then let go to fix my gaze back on Ivan. His face was unreadable. Then I remembered something from my childhood. Something I had seen men do to my papa in his office.
Dropping to my knees before the Pakhan and Ivan, I looked up. “I, Zaal Kostava, of the Kostava clan of Georgia, pledge my loyalty to you, Ivan Tolstoi. I swear to never betray you.” I laid my hand over my heart, and I continued, “I give you my life for the life of your father. Blood for blood.” I breathed out through my nose and said, “I have no family. I have no obligation to the Kostava clan. But I will pledge myself as a Tolstoi. As a brother of the Volkov Bratva. If you will have me.”
I held out my hand, my head still bowed, waiting to see if Ivan would take it. He did not move, but then I heard him ask. “You love him, Talia?” My breathing paused.
“Yes,” she said, her voice strong and unshakable. “I love him so much, Papa. He saved my life, hell, he is my life.”
Ivan didn’t respond. Then I heard Luka’s voice. “You know my decision, Papa. He’s Anri’s brother. That makes him mine. And I have seen him with Talia. He is for her, like Kisa is for me. He will protect her and give her his loyalty. You have my assurance on that.”
I risked a glace up to see that Ivan’s head had dropped. He then looked to the Pakhan. The Pakhan shrugged. “He’s no threat to us. His family’s dead. He’s lived his life under Jakhua. And Ivan, he is a Kostava. He could strengthen our connections with the Georgians in the future. He’s the sole heir, the sole survivor to the biggest clan that existed in Georgia. Many people will be happy he is alive, many will still follow him if he wishes to one day lead. And if he is an ally of the Volkov’s, in the family of the Volkov’s, it will only ever work in our favor. It makes good business sense. He’s contractually a stronger marital match for Talia than any other suitor you could have picked out.” The Pakhan shrugged. “Let the boy pledge.”
Ivan looked down at me and asked, “Do you have any feelings of hatred for my family?”
I frowned, and I deliberately shook my head. “I have none.” I met eyes with Talia and rasped, “I love Talia. I want to be forever with Talia.”
“Zaal,” Talia whispered, and looked determinedly at her father. “Papa, I won’t be without him.”
Ivan sighed, and he held out his hand. I took his hand in mine and kissed the back, then brought it to my forehead. Ivan pulled it back and motioned with his fingers for me to rise.
I lifted to my feet. Ivan stepped closer and said, “Prove me wrong about your family name. Prove to me you are as worthy of my daughter as she and my son seem to believe.”
“Papa,” Talia whispered lovingly from beside me, “thank you.”
Ivan opened his arms. Talia went to her father. He kissed her head. “I could not see you miserable, Talia. This man, Zaal, I can see he makes you happy. I refuse to see another child of mine destroyed in this life.”
“Thank you,” she repeated, and moved back to kiss his cheek.
Talia let go of her father and came to me. She took my hand in hers and said, “We get to be together. A Kostava and a Tolstoi, Zaal. I get to love you.”
I pointed to my heart and then to hers. “No names. Just you and me. Because you are … for me.”
“And I am … for you,” she declared back. Talia smiled so big and she reached up to run her fingers through my long hair. I lost my breath at the sight.
“Your hair needs washing. Your lovely long hair.”
Taking both her hands in mine, I pressed my forehead to hers and said, “I look forward to you cleansing it.”
Talia paused, then a laugh escaped her lips. I pressed my fingers to her lips and said, “I should like always to see you smile.”
* * *
It felt strange to sit at the Tolstoi family table. The Bratva kings were of course at the head of the table. Talia’s mother served the food. I didn’t really eat, my stomach could not handle it.
I looked round the table. I had to blink at the surreal feeling of being here, and having, all this, a new family. My lungs squeezed and a pit formed in my stomach. The last time I had been sitting around a table enjoying food, my family was killed. And I was taken away.
I looked down at my hands and stared. I closed my eyes. I could still feel Anri gripping my right hand as Jakhua walked into the yard. I could still feel Zoya holding my left hand, then crawling into my arms and pressing her nose into my neck.
A lump clogged my throat as those memories surfaced. My breath began to quicken as it hit me precisely what I’d lost. This could’ve been my life. I could’ve had my family. Watching them grow, having the same bond.
It was so much. Too much.
I was blindsided by too many memories slamming around my brain. Hearing the laughter from the Russians eating and sharing love was too much. I was going to lose it. I needed to leave the table. I—
Then a soft hand slipped into mine and gently squeezed. My eyes snapped open. Immediately my gaze joined with a dark brown gaze.
Talia.
Her beautiful face looked up at me. I could see the concern in her face. I could feel her worry for me in my heart. Her hand squeezed again, and she leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek. My eyes drifted to a close at her touch. I held on tight. Held on until the pain from the surge of memories stopped.
As I opened my eyes, I felt the stares arcing our way. I looked around the table, Talia’s hand still in mine, and I saw all eyes watching us. Talia’s mother’s eyes were shining as she looked at her daughter. But it was Luka’s face that caught my attention. Exhaling, I met his gaze. I saw something that helped me breathe: his understanding.
Luka sat back in his chair and looked to his father. “I need to take Zaal somewhere.”
Ivan placed his fork on his plate. Casting me a wary glance, he nodded his head. Luka stood, and he nudged his head in the direction of the door. Meeting each of the Bratva kings’ eyes, I bowed my head and I slowly, respectfully rose from the chair. Talia’s hand was still gripping mine. When I looked down at her she got to her feet, too.
Facing her brother, she said, “I’ve just got him back.” Her steely brown eyes met mine. “I go where he goes.”
A smile spread on my lips and I brought her hand to my mouth. I kissed her warm skin and Talia’s face flushed.
Luka pulled his chair and reached out for Kisa, his wife. “You come, too, solnyshko.”
Kisa smiled up at her husband and got to her feet. Luka wrapped her in his arm and looked to his father. “Send someone to Durov’s place”—he pointed at me—“it’s now his.”
Ivan clicked his fingers at a guard. “Prepare the apartment.”
Luka’s eyes met mine. “Let’s go.”
A car drove us through the streets of Brooklyn. My eyes drank in all the d
erelict buildings of a place called Brighton Beach, and the people walking about. At times I had to close my eyes. I did not know how to cope with all the new things I was seeing.
But Talia’s hand held mine. And when she felt me tense or lose my breath, her palm and lips would meet my cheeks, calming me down.
The car stopped at tall black gates. Luka and Kisa exited the car first, followed by Talia and I. I stared up at the black gates and the green beyond. The grass was filled with rows of stone objects.
The guard unlocked the gates and we walked through. Luka turned to me and said, “Zaal, come with me. I have something to show you.”
I nodded. Talia reached up and kissed me on the cheek. “You go with my brother. I’ll stay here.”
Kisa moved beside Talia. “I’m going to visit my mama, you want to come with me, Tal? I have something to tell you.”
Talia nodded at Kisa, then her gaze met mine. “I’ll be close.” She released my hand and moved off with her friend. I suddenly felt empty. But Luka’s hand wrapped around my bicep and he pointed to the far side of the grass.
I followed Luka, passing by stone after stone. At first I struggled to understand what they were, then a memory hit me. Anri and I stood with my papa at a stone. It was my grandpapa’s grave.
Ice spiked down my spine when I realized where we were—a graveyard.
Then Luka stopped. I didn’t look down. Instead I watched him watch me. Luka ran his hand through his hair, and swallowing, said, “When I escaped the gulag, it was your brother who opened my cell. It was your brother who freed me.” Luka rubbed his lips together and stared off at nothing, his eyes losing focus. “He was my friend. I was locked down on the lower floor, but he made sure I got out. He ensured I got my revenge.” His eyes then focused back on me. “As we said good-bye, he was heading west to seek his own revenge on the people who put him in the gulag. We were also full of drugs and had no memory of what had happened to us, but he was determined to make those responsible for his imprisonment pay.”
My breathing was hard as he spoke of my brother. I could see his loyalty for Anri in his eyes. Thinking of Anri was painful. Painful, but at the same time, Luka knew him. It felt like I knew Anri, too, as Luka spoke about him.