Scarred Souls: Raze & Reap

by Tillie Cole

  “You are … for me. No other male. Just me. And me … for you. This is my, ‘I love you.’ These are my words from my scarred soul. They are not borrowed words, but words from my full heart, and my heart only.”

  Talia sobbed as I leaned down to kiss her soft, wet mouth, repeating, “You are … for me, you are … for me…” Then Talia holding my face and whispering back, “I am … for you, Zaal … eternally. I am forever … for you…”

  The blows kept coming as I kept circling the cherished memories through my head. Then he stopped. Opening my eyes, my chest raw with chain marks and blood, Jakhua stood before me, sweating and panting. His dark eyes were burning with rage. I knew it was because I didn’t react.

  I wouldn’t. When he pulled me from Talia I died inside. I would never give him the satisfaction of seeing me weakened by his hand. I would resist until I couldn’t resist anymore.

  Jakhua slammed the chain to the ground. I watched him wipe his sweating brow, then saw the door open.

  Every muscle tensed when a man in a white coat walked through. My heart began to race when I saw the needle in his hand. My body shivered. A cold sweat broke out on my body. It was as if my body remembered what was coming.

  Jakhua pointed at me and gave the order, “Do it. The sooner that dog is under the better. I need him to kill. I need him doing everything I command without hearing his fucking mouth.”

  I thrashed on the chains as the man drew closer. I snarled and roared as he flicked the needle. The chains grew tighter. I shook with the tension on my arms.

  Just as the man held the needle to my arm, gunfire exploded down the hallway. Jakhua snapped his fingers at the guard and the guard ran from the room, rifle held in readiness.

  My hands fisted. I stared at the door. My heart pumped as the sounds of screaming reached my ears. Jakhua reached for his gun. He scurried to the back of the room. The man in the white coat dropped the needle on the floor, and the glass bottle holding the liquid smashed into the floor.

  Crashes and the sound of bullets ricocheting off walls flooded the hallway just beyond the door. I pulled on the chains, and I thundered a roar. I bellowed and bellowed, wanting the fight to come to this room.

  I searched for Jakhua. His eyes met mine. My lip curled and I saw the blood drain from his face. My stare was a promise. A promise that if I got free, his life would be mine.

  I would kill him. I glanced to the man in the white coat cowering in the corner of the room. I would fucking slaughter them all.

  Jakhua pointed his gun in my direction. I saw in his face his resolve to kill me. I pulled harder on the chains, using my feet for purchase. I needed to get free. I needed to kill. I couldn’t miss my chance to kill the fucker.

  I wanted revenge.

  I wanted his blood on my hands like my family’s was on his.

  As he pulled back the safety on the gun, rapid fire sounded just outside the room. Jakhua dropped his gun as the door burst open. I smiled. I smiled as he pathetically fumbled for his gun.

  Men spilled into the room. I tried to recognize them, but all were dressed in black, holding their rifles before their faces, aiming them right at Jakhua.

  “Mine!” I thundered, causing some of them to avert their attention my way. “He’s mine!” I snarled, just as another man entered the room, a man wearing a hood over his head, bladed knuckledusters dripping with blood on his hands.

  Then he turned to face me, and I relaxed.

  Luka.

  Storming forward, Luka pulled back his hood and met my eyes. He turned to one of his guards. “Get him the fuck down!”

  A guard ran toward me. Pulling something from his pocket, he worked on the lock. The chains pulled on my arms, but my gaze locked on one man. One man cornered in the room. One man who needed to die. Slowly. Painfully, by my hands.

  The sound of a shackle opening hit my ears, and one of my arms dropped free. Blistering fire surged through my arms and the blood filled my muscles. Then the second shackle was unlocked. Both of my arms were now free.

  Rolling my neck and shaking out my hands, the chains that had owned me most of my life dropped to the floor. I stared down at the pile of metal on the ground. My chest constricted. I was free.

  My eyes shot to Jakhua.

  I was almost free.

  Luka’s eyes followed my gaze and he lurched forward with his fist held high. Reaching out, I gripped his wrist pulling him to an abrupt stop. Luka’s eyes met mine. I shook my head and growled, “He’s mine.”

  Luka’s jaw clenched as though he was fighting the need to take Jakhua himself. I released his arm and said, “He killed my family. Anri was my blood. The cunt is mine to kill.”

  Luka stared at me in silence, but eventually he nodded and said, “You’re right. He’s yours. Make the fucker reap what he sowed.”

  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 knuckledusters 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 b
uilt 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.