Klaus was better at hiding his reactions than Luka, but there was a mutual understanding between them at that moment. He might not have been as close to Alex as the rest of them…but he cared.
Luka was the first out of the car, then Klaus, both crossing the parking lot to a stand a few feet away from the bikers.
The president didn’t waste time. “Reason why you called this meeting, Volkov? And brought that motherfucker…”
He might have been bold enough to tell Mishca the truth about why Luka had nearly killed a few of them that night, but he had mentioned there’d been a problem.
“Because we have a problem.”
It was disconcerting how Klaus could mimic Mishca, and to anyone else, he sounded spot on. And had Luka not known the pair of them as well as he did, he might not have caught the subtle differences.
That was working in his favor tonight.
“A routine meeting, but it went bad this time. Why is that?”
The prez didn’t look as sure of himself now that it wasn’t Luka questioning him. Even Luka was curious as to how he was going to talk himself out of this one.
Pulling the gun from the waistband of his jeans with ridiculous ease, Klaus pointed it at Luka’s forehead, never taking his eyes off the bikers.
“I don’t tolerate disrespect of any kind, so please, if his actions were unwarranted, I’ll put a bullet in his skull right now.”
Since none of this was rehearsed, Luka actually looked at Klaus, trying to gauge how serious he was. Knowing Klaus, he would shoot him just for fun.
“But know that if you lie to me—and believe me, I’ll know if you do—I’ll destroy your organization member by member. Do you understand?”
The prez swallowed, his other guys looking at him, but he never looked away from Klaus. “One of our guys was messing around with a girl, but he didn’t know she was your sister. She never gave her name.”
Klaus dropped his arm to his side, looking impressed. “No? Then why did your man Snow brag to three fucking idiots—they’re my idiots, you see—that he had fucked a Russian bitch in exchange for pills?”
How Klaus could come up with this on the spot, Luka didn’t know, but he was fucking glad.
Klaus didn’t give the man a chance to answer. “I wouldn’t give a shit if he stuck his dick in every female who walked the Earth, but I do give a fuck when it’s my family. And I definitely give a shit when she didn’t consent to it.”
The prez realized the danger he was in, shifting on his feet as he tried to weigh his options, but he knew there was only one way out of this without having a war on his hands. “What do you want?”
“Snow.”
He could have declared war, protected his own, as they would have done if the positions were reversed, but he wasn’t prepared, not in the slightest, for what the Bratva was capable of, even if he didn’t know that he was only going up against one in particular.
If he had a choice between everyone dying and handing over one of his own to the sociopath that wanted him…the choice was clear.
“36th and Lex, he’s meeting a contact tomorrow,” the prez said reluctantly, eyeing Luka like he knew that as soon as he was gone, Snow would be as good as dead.
He was right.
“Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.”
Klaus and Luka walked back to his car, keeping the bikers in sight until they were pulling out of the lot.
As they rode back to Klaus’ room, Luka let his mind wander as to what he planned to do to Snow when he found him, entertaining himself with images of blood and mayhem.
It wasn’t his fault really. No one could have known that when Luka came to this place, he would learn to care for someone else again, not someone like Alex. Someone innocent.
Luka wasn’t a good person. He stood on the brink of death doing what he did every day, especially for the people he did it for, but Alex shouldn’t have to suffer the fucked-up shit this world had to offer.
And after what Snow did…
He was going to make him hurt.
“You’re going after him tonight?” Klaus asked when they pulled up beside his Jeep.
“You already know the answer to that.”
Klaus tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as he killed the engine. “You plan on telling the Russian?”
No, he would never be the one to tell that story. If Alex wanted him to know, then she would tell him.
“You know the answer to that, too.”
Klaus nodded, scratching his head as he climbed out. “Make him bleed.”
____
Glancing at the illuminated clock on the dash, Luka tossed his cigarette out the window.
It was time.
Carefully climbing out, he left his door ajar as he went after the man who deserved everything he was about to get. The girl saw him first, but she was too high to give Snow a warning.
“On your left.”
Snow, predictably, looked to his left as Luka struck from the opposite direction, landing one solid punch to the man’s face that dropped him, but it didn’t knock him out. Taking a step back as the biker righted himself, Luka tried not to enjoy the look of shock and indignation that crossed his face once he realized who had struck him too much. Luka didn’t give him a chance to move against him when he threw another punch, then another until finally, Snow was unconscious on the ground.
He made quick work of tying him up, making sure that should he wake up, he wouldn’t be able to get free. Grunting, he hefted the man up, dragging his body to his nearby Jeep, dropping his body on the floor of the backseat, and throwing the wool blanket he kept back there over him. With one last look around at his surroundings, Luka took off, driving them to the one place where he knew they would have the most privacy.
The Wet Rooms, aptly named for the rusting, leaking pipes that lined the ceiling of its building, was one of a number of places the Volkov Bratva used to coerce answers out of the poor souls forced to endure hours in there. Currently, it was unoccupied, and since Luka mostly used this room—and on the rare occasion, Mishca—he knew that he would have an unlimited amount of time to make sure that Snow understood the gravity of his mistake.
Thankfully, there was a garage attached to the place, so getting Snow inside wasn’t a problem. Having spent most of his day with Alex, he’d not had the time to set things up the way he wanted, and now needed to take a bit of extra time to move things around just as his new friend was stirring.
Luka dragged him over to one of the chains and hooks that hung from the ceiling, securing his new restraints but leaving the blindfold in place as he pulled up a chair in front of him and took a seat. For a time, Luka just sat and watched him, from the way he moaned as he gained consciousness to the stillness that overcame him once he realized the predicament he was in. At first, he didn’t try to fight his way free but seemed to try to sense whether or not Luka was in the room with him. It wasn’t like there was any secret as to who had taken him.
The only sound in the room was Snow’s heavy breathing, then Luka’s shoes as he adjusted his position in the chair, hooking his foot over his knee as he sat back. Snow froze, and though he tried to appear calm, Luka could sense the fear in him. It took a moment, both of them silent, until Snow’s struggles started, turning from careful pulling to outright desperation.
Luka closed his eyes for a moment, letting it all sink in, preparing himself for the work he was about to put in. He rolled his head on his shoulders, stretching his arms out in front of him, feeling the muscles pull briefly before he relaxed back.
It was time.
Standing, everything else drifted away from him as he reached for the bag on Snow’s head, yanking it off in one swift motion. Snow’s head jolted back, not because of the force in which Luka removed the bag, but from whatever he saw in Luka’s gaze.
Luka had seen this look in varying degrees over the years, mostly when he was up against someone in the Pit. There was arrogance, yes, but fear as w
ell.
“You can’t just kill me,” Snow said indignantly. “My people—”
“That’s the thing,” Luka cut him off, a smile curling his lips. “I don’t give a shit. So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get started.”
Luka took the blade from his pocket, running the pad of his finger along the edge of it, listening to Snow’s muffled grunts and the scraping of the chair legs as he struggled.
“I wasn’t always like this,” Luka said conversationally, returning to Snow’s side. “Of course, I’d never given much thought to what I wanted to be when I grew up, but this? This definitely wasn’t it. My mother was a cook, or rather she just liked to do it. I learned because I figured I would at least do one thing that made her proud. Fuck knows she’s rolling over in her grave now. I’ve always been curious about that, you know? Why do you have to roll over? Couldn’t you just shift to one side? Constantly rolling over in that tiny ass coffin sounds tiring.”
Snow’s eyes were wide as they darted over Luka’s face, and he had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. Though he couldn’t be sure why, everything he was saying made perfect sense.
“But that’s besides the point. We’re not here to talk about me.” He tapped the blade against Snow’s chest. “Let’s talk about you. How many girls have you forced to fuck you in exchange for drugs? Here, let me give you a little motivation. If your answer is between one and two, then this ends. Anything more than that and I’m going to take this blade and cut your fucking dick off, understand?”
“It was just the one, man. Just one.”
Luka sighed, a smile spreading on his face, and Snow, predictably, took that as a good sign.
“Then, just Alex?”
Snow nodded.
Luka spun the knife in his hand, watching the light glint off the silver before plunging the blade into Snow’s side, his shout of pain like music to Luka’s ears.
“You said you would end this shit!”
“I did, but I didn’t say I would end it now.” Luka gripped Snow’s face. “She suffered in a way that I wish I didn’t remember. I sat in a room with her for three days as she came down from whatever the fuck it was you gave her, and then watched as she sweated the shit out of her system. I watched her break, over and over again, helpless to stop it—and Snow, I hate being fucking helpless. Sadly, I can’t keep you here for three days as I wanted to—I got shit to do. But for the next three hours, I’m going to make you feel a fraction of what she felt during those three days. You understand, right? This is just business.”
“What the fuck do you care about some stupid bitch!” he shouted back at him, a desperate cry from a desperate man.
Luka shoved him away. “Because she’s mine. And I’m a little overprotective of what’s fucking mine.”
Walking over to the speakers that were set up in a corner of the room, he plugged in the iPod sitting there, laughing when Snow started screaming bloody murder. Even if someone were to hear him, no one would report it. Not in this neighborhood and especially because it came from this building. When he found a song he liked, he set it on repeat, then turned back to Snow.
He would enjoy this, far more than he should.
The first cut along the man’s skin sent euphoria through him. He was careful, making sure to only inflict the necessary amount of pain, not wanting to go overboard too soon, but one minute he was there in the room, doing what needed to be done, and the next, he was carving into a man’s back with a heated blade. This was what he knew, the only thing he was really good at. Luka wasn’t particularly proud of this fact but dealing out this kind of retribution worked for him.
He didn’t know how long he’d stood there, stripping flesh from the man’s back—Snow long since passing out from the pain—before the steel doors at the back of the room opened, and they were no longer alone in the room.
“Some things never change.”
That voice.
Luka held the blade in hand, turning slowly, wiping his forearm across his face to wipe the blood off, but only managing to smear it further.
The man, standing at the back of the warehouse, wearing the same manic grin that Luka often wore, stepped into a patch of light, the stark color making the gauntness of his face stand out more.
For a moment, he just stared, letting the reality of this ground him.
“Hello again, Valon.”
PART THREE
My demons,
Though quiet,
Are never quite silenced.
Calm as they may be,
They wait patiently
For a reason to wake,
Take an overdue breath,
And crawl back to my ear.
-Author Unknown
33
____
Past Demons
Time warped things. Memories. Appearances. But just as easily as things seemed different, everything, even the most insignificant of details came rushing back as though they had never been gone.
Fatos was as Luka remembered him. Though he did, at least, look a bit older, but under the guise of a man, he could still see the remnants of the boy he’d raced home with on occasion.
He was a few inches shorter than Luka’s six-foot-four with dark brown hair that was carefully styled. And his eyes…they were as dark as the pit in his chest. Unlike Luka, who had gained at least another twenty pounds of muscles since the last time they’d seen each other, Fatos was thin. Almost too thin.
Looking at him now, it was hard to rationalize that this was the same person who had been his best friend throughout grade school, only to turn into a rival when Luka had needed him most. Even now, the two sides of him were ever present. Content and pleasant on the outside, but behind that calm smile was a monster that liked to come out and play. For a moment, Luka thought of how Klaus always looked at him, and the thoughts he’d have at the sight of him.
Right now, as he stood more than a dozen feet away from his old friend, Luka could only remember how he’d been so glad to hurt those who had done nothing to earn it.
But hadn’t Luka?
He worked under his own principles, and now that Fatos was here admiring his handiwork, Luka knew how it must look. It didn’t matter that he knew Snow deserved every last cut from his blade. To Fatos, it just looked like he and Luka were one and the same.
“What are you doing here, Fatos?” Luka asked as he wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. Glancing back at Snow, who sat slumped forward in the chair, it made it far easier to see his back had been slashed to ribbons.
Even if Luka had entertained the idea of letting him live with the reminder of what he had suffered, there was no way he was letting him go now, not with Fatos in the room. His true identity was one of his most well-kept secrets, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize it for anyone. It was already enough that Klaus knew, and though he never hung it over his head, the threat was always there.
And what would the mercenary do now with Fatos in the city? Already, Luka heard the clock ticking, knowing that it was only a matter of time before everything he’d built for himself came crashing down. If Klaus were tracking the Organization the way Luka thought he was, he would know soon enough that Fatos was stateside.
And hadn’t he warned Luka? It felt like so long ago that Klaus had come to him, speaking of things he had never considered.
Fatos looked the part. Perfectly groomed, he was wearing a suit that probably cost more money than Luka had spent on his entire wardrobe. While Luka didn’t want to wrap his mind around Fatos being in charge of any organization, let alone the one that Luka hated, he understood why he would make a great leader.
Undoubtedly, he would do whatever he needed to remain at the top.
Klaus had asked whether he would be willing to trade his life for Fatos’. He hadn’t given him an answer because he wasn’t sure he would be able to. Now? He needed Fatos out of the picture.
It seemed only appropriate that he would appear once more when Luka was
truly happy.
“Did you not miss me, vëlla?” Fatos asked patiently, his eyes drifting to the body at Luka’s back, a small smile curling his lips. There was no disgust in his gaze, no surprise at the gruesome work. If anything, Fatos was proud of the work he saw.
“Brother? I’m not your brother. Now answer my question. It’s been five years. What do you want?”
After several moments of just gazing at the body, he finally looked back to Luka. “Would you believe me if I told you I missed you? It’s true,” he was quick to add when he saw the look of disbelief cross Luka’s face. “There have been rumors, of course, saying that you had allied yourself with the Russians. I could understand why they would think that—your mother and all—but I would have never thought that you would get so comfortable with the very person you were paid to kill. How does that work exactly?”
Not rising to the bait, Luka asked a question of his own. “You have your own experience with that, so you tell me.”
Fatos looked hurt, as though what Luka was implying actually hurt him. “I would have never hurt you. You know this.”
“Did I miss when you carved into my back with a dirty blade? Or maybe when you were betting against me when I fought in the Pit?” He thought of bringing up Elena and what Fatos had done to her, but from the look on his face, he was expecting it.
And no matter how he tried to shake it, he had to admit that what was done to him was the best at extracting information from those on the receiving end. While Luka had never broken, others had. Many others.
“But that made you better, did it not?” Fatos asked, gesturing to Snow. “That day made you more. You can’t still be angry with me over this. If I recall, you accepted my care while I tended to the wounds.”
That was because he’d been too fucking weak to do anything more than lay there in agony. It wasn’t until he had gotten his strength back did Luka kick Fatos out with threats of murder.
But this was their problem. Fatos, even during their shared time in Berat, always did things he thought was best for Luka, even if it permanently disfigured him and turned him into something most feared.
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 25