by Tillie Cole
Valentin’s eyes squeezed shut, and I could see him fighting for control of his emotions. His entire life had been about saving his sister—his childhood, his teens, his adult life. And he believed he had failed.
Seeing him so upset provided another facet to this kaleidoscope of a man. I had seen him vicious. I had seen him cruel and cold, and I had seen him loving and kind. Now I was seeing him crushed and broken.
I was witnessing him feeling completely alone.
Gripping him tighter, I promised, “We’ll get her back, Valentin. Somehow, we’ll get her back.”
He watched me and confessed, “I don’t know what to do.”
My heart broke for how lost and young he sounded. “I know,” I rasped. “But there will be a way. We will work something out.”
He deserved to hear it would all work out, even though deep down I wasn’t sure.
Valentin stared after that. He stared at me like I was an angel. Smoothing the back of my hand down his troubled face, I said, “You have me, Valentin. I am not going anywhere. I’m here for you, with you … in love with you.”
“Kotyonok,” he whispered, his sweet name for me warming me to my core. “You’re mine? You belong to me?”
Smiling through the emotions wrapping me in their hold, I nodded my head. “Yes. I am yours.”
Valentin tried to move but winced as a pain shot through him. Leaning away, I rolled up the sleeves of my sweater and said, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to clean you up. I’m going to make the pain go away.”
Valentin gripped my hand, but when I smiled and nodded my head he let me go. I rushed out of the cell and up the stairs. The man Kisa had called Pavel was at the top. Straightening my shoulders, I ordered, “I need the heat turned on downstairs. And I need a list of other things sent down immediately!”
Pavel nodded his head without expression and minutes later brought down what I had asked for. I sat beside Valentin on the floor. “Thank you,” I said to Pavel, taking the supplies and feeling warmth from the heating vent raising the temperature of the cell.
As he was about to leave, I called, “Pavel?” He turned. “Can you bring down one of the gym mats I saw upstairs and some linen?”
He frowned at my request, but as I set to cleaning Valentin he brought them down. He soon left us alone.
I cleaned Valentin until I could see his beautiful fair skin once again. Zaal had cut him with something. I realized as I cleaned and poured peroxide on the slashes that I had no idea what Zaal was capable of. I loved him unconditionally. He was my brother. But, like Valentin and, I suspected, like Luka, Zaal was a trained killer.
Two monsters whom I loved.
As I pressed the last of the bandages and sterile strips on Valentin’s wounds, I pushed the supplies aside. Taking the gym mat, I pulled it to the corner of the room and dressed it in the linen Pavel had found. He had brought brand-new pillows and a comforter down. I suspected this had something to do with Kisa.
Once a pallet had been made, I turned to see Valentin getting to his feet. His legs shook with the effort. He swayed, and as he did I ran to help him balance, then led him to the bed.
He lay down, and I pulled the comforter over his body. I tucked him in and noticed his broad chest was rising up and down. His glittering blue eyes were on me. Wondering what was wrong, I slid beside him on the mat, sharing his pillow. I took his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingers, and asked, “What is it?”
His beautifully scarred face was conflicted, flushed and warm to the touch. The silence lasted so long I didn’t think he would speak. Then he did. “I’ve slept in a cage so long, that I don’t remember ever sleeping on something soft.” My heart sank and my throat clogged up. “I don’t remember ever having a comforter.” Valentin paused and, inching his head closer, he said, “And I know, memories or not, that no one has ever tucked me in. No one has ever cared about me enough to do that.”
“Valentin—” I said, my voice weak and hoarse.
Valentin cut in, “I have always been alone. My mama was always on drugs until she overdosed and died. And Inessa, Inessa has been on the drugs so long, she has little or no memory of me. I am alone. Always have been.”
“You were alone,” I pushed. “You were alone. Now you have me.”
Valentin’s chin dropped and he said, “I have nothing to offer you, kotyonok. I am nothing; you are a born printsessa.”
I shook my head. “You are wrong, Valentin.” I saw his mouth open to argue; then I said, “Maybe once I was somebody, a mafiya printsessa, if you want to call me that. But I am like you. I’m without parents. I have no power, no status, nothing. I am no printsessa. I am nothing, too.”
Valentin studied my face. As he shifted closer, his bare chest pressed against mine. His touch sent shivers to my core and stole my breath. Valentin turned his cheek and kissed my lower neck. My eyes fluttered closed, and he whispered, “You are not nothing. You are everything to me. You are my printsessa; my little Georgian printsessa.”
“You have stolen my breath,” I whispered.
Valentin rolled until half of his chest hovered over mine. Looking me straight in the eye, his long scar bright now that he was clean, he whispered back, “You have stolen my heart.”
My heart swelled and I smiled. Placing my hand on his cheek, my thumb tracing the scar that was imprinted in my soul, I said, “Then we both are vory serdtsa; we are both thieves of the heart.”
Valentin growled at my words and crushed his mouth to mine. My blood burned with the desire to be with him again, but when he stiffened at the pain our contact caused I broke away. Valentin’s gaze blazed with anger. Pushing him to his back, I laid my cheek on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“Shh,” I soothed, and let my fingers drift over the muscles on his stomach. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll sleep and make love when you heal.”
Valentin held me as close as his injuries would allow. Breathing in the scent of my hair, he said, “You cannot stay down here. You cannot stay in these cells. You deserve more.”
Clutching him tighter, I responded, “I stay where you stay. And right now we are in the cells. I’m with you. That’s all that counts.”
Valentin said nothing else. After a long time as we lay in each other’s arms, Valentin reluctantly took some pills to help him sleep and heal. We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
I was in a cell, in a dungeon, in a corner of hell itself.
And I couldn’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.
I blinked, and blinked again, as I tried to focus on what looked like a dark figure sitting just outside the cell. My heart kicked into a sprint as I wondered who it was. As if sensing my rising fear, Valentin held me closer, but the sleeping pills he had taken kept him locked in deep slumber.
I stared and I stared trying to make out a face. Then the shadow shifted position, the dim light revealing who it was.
“Zaal?” I whispered. I could not move from my side of the makeshift bed. Valentin’s arm was wrapped around my waist. Even in sleep, he wasn’t letting me go.
“It’s me.” Zaal’s deep quiet voice echoed off the walls.
My heart warmed on my hearing his voice. Having him close again after all these years. But there was an awkwardness, too.
“I can barely see you,” I said, squinting my eyes to bring him into focus.
“I didn’t want you to know I was here,” he revealed. His voice was sad in tone. I knew it was because I had hurt him.
“Come closer, sykhaara,” I instructed softly.
Zaal paused, but I saw his legs move. My brother rose to his impressive height and slowly moved closer to the bars of the cell. Zaal stepped into the light. I couldn’t help but smile at his long hair that hung over his shoulders. He was wearing all black—black shirt and black jeans. I smiled wider knowing that Zaal had become the man my father dreamed he would be. My throat clogged with emotion when I imagined a replica of him standing by his side. Together, my br
others would have been a force to be reckoned with.
Zaal’s head was down as he loomed beyond the bars.
“Why were you hiding, sykhaara?”
His shoulders dropped and he ran his hand through his long hair. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me. But I needed to know you were safe. I needed to make sure you were okay.”
In an act of possession, I ran my hand over Valentin’s arm around my waist and tucked myself farther against his chest. Valentin never stirred, but I heard a soft sigh escape his lips and blow against my hair.
I smiled a whisper of a smile and lifted his hand to kiss his warm clean skin. A sound from beyond the cell pulled my attention, and when I glanced up I saw Zaal had sat down on the floor, right in the center of the doorway. He leaned against the rigid bars, his torso facing mine.
I stared at my brother. He had his legs bent and his strong arms leaning on his elbows. His head was down, and my heart sank with disappointment at how awkward our meeting had been.
Keeping hold of Valentin’s hand for strength, I admitted, “I did not imagine that our reunion would be so strained.”
Zaal tensed. I watched as his head dropped farther forward. Inhaling deeply, he agreed, “Neither did I.”
He didn’t add anything else. In this reserved persona I saw the Zaal of old. Anri had always been the joker, the louder of the two. He would speak for Zaal, Zaal—quiet, timid, but just as strong—stood at Anri’s side. It seemed all the years spent apart had not changed the fact that Zaal was happy to let others speak while he sat back and watched the world from afar.
I pictured him laughing with Talia and wondered if she was louder in personality. I hoped so. Zaal needed someone vibrant in his life. He was never happy being alone.
Sighing, I ran my hand down my face and said, “I dreamed what meeting you again would be like.” I huffed a laugh and admitted, “I fear I may have placed too much expectation on that dream. The reality of seeing you again is so different.”
Zaal tensed. His head moved as if my words had struck a sensitive chord. Panicking, I proclaimed, “I love you, sykhaara. This has never changed. And I am so unbelievably happy you are here. You’re my big brother and I have you back. I have family again.” I laughed, gentler this time, and said, “You know you were always my favorite. You were my hero and my heart. That is unchanged. In fact, seeing you again has only strengthened that love.”
Zaal kept his head down, and I pleaded, “Please look at me, sykhaara.”
Zaal raised his head. His bright green gaze met mine. Just as I thought he would not speak again, he rasped brokenly, “I watched you die. I watched you all die. I see it so clearly now—the screams, the blood, all of it.” He tapped his head. “But the drugs stole that from me for many years. They made it all go away. Jakhua made me his dog. I killed him for that, but worse, he stole my memories of you, of Anri, of all the family.” His face contorted. “I am still missing some years. Some things I can’t remember, but I always remembered you.” Zaal lifted his hand to touch his three moles. His eyes warmed as he did, and I whispered, “One, two, three.”
Zaal slowly nodded his head and his thick lips hooked into a shy smile. It quickly dropped, but he confessed, “The memories came back quickly, but so did the pain. I relived everything over and over again, and it’s been killing me, Zoya.” He clenched his hands, then added, “It killed me remembering you the most, reaching out your little arms for me to take. Screaming for me to save you. It kept me awake every night.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And now you’re here. Before me. But older and different. A woman. A strong woman.” Zaal smiled. “You think Papa would have been proud of me. I know he would have been proud of you. What you’ve been through…”
His eyes fell on Valentin’s arms holding me possessively, and I said, “He’s not leaving me. I’m not leaving him. I love him.”
Zaal sighed and dropped his head again. “He hurt you, Zoya. I saw it. And I fucking broke. I don’t know if I can get past it. You fell for your torturer.”
I held Valentin tighter and glanced behind me to see his scarred face relaxed in sleep. The face I once thought of as monstrous I now only saw as beautiful. Leaning in, I kissed the long scar on his cheek and said, “I love him. I know how it looks, but you only saw glimpses of him on the drugs, or fighting for his sister.” With a final stroke of his cheek, I turned back to Zaal. “You would have done the same. Tell me, if Jakhua had me locked away and on the Type B drug, if you had to watch me get raped by men but were promised that if you just killed one more hit I would be free, would you have done whatever he would have asked?”
Zaal’s jaw clenched, and he said darkly, “I wouldn’t have had a choice if I was on the drugs.”
“So was Valentin.”
“Not all the time,” Zaal argued.
“And if that was you, what would you have done?”
Zaal’s silence told me I’d finally gotten through. Shaking my head, I said, “I do not want to argue, sykhaara. But I won’t give him up. Our lives have been so hard. I have forever dreamed of finding my true love. I never imagined it would be through this dark path, but I find myself here and happy. I find myself in love with this man.”
Zaal stared at Valentin’s hand in mine. I brought it to lie under my cheek and proclaimed, “Zaal, I shall make you a deal.”
Zaal frowned. A ghost of a humored smile spread on his lips. He waited for me to speak. Hope stirred in my heart. “Kisa and I spoke at length. She helped me see things clearly. I”—I coughed, finding the next sentence difficult—“I would like to know Talia. I would like to know your love, because she is yours.” I forced to the side the pain of who her family was, and I continued, “She is your present and your future. As sad as it makes me, I am your past.” Making sure Zaal’s eyes were fixed on mine, I said, “We knew each other as children, Zaal, when life was simple and easy. I would very much like to know you now.” I fought the thickness from my throat. “I would very much like you to be my best friend again.”
“I want that, too, so much,” Zaal admitted hoarsely.
I smiled on noticing the tension leave his shoulders. “But you have to accept Valentin. He is mine; I am his. That’s how it will be. You do not know what he has been through, though if you took the time to speak to him you might find you are not so dissimilar.”
Zaal glanced away but curtly nodded his head. “I asked him to speak to me over the past three days. I asked him to explain everything to me, but he wouldn’t. He just kept telling me you were better off without him, that he was your Tbilisi monster in the woods. That there was no good in his heart, like you thought there was.”
Tears fell down my cheeks on my hearing that Valentin had said such sad things. “He has lost his sister, Zaal.” I pointed at Zaal, then to myself. “Just like you had lost me. He is broken.” Zaal remained still, unmoving, and I added quietly, “But I think I can heal him. I think I can give him something he has never had before.”
“What’s that?” Zaal asked huskily.
“Love. Affection. A safe place. Someone who actually cares for him.” I blushed and said, “The way he watched me as I cleaned him and tucked him in bed, it makes me want to hold him and never ever let go. He calls himself an ugly scarred beast, but I also see the beautiful man beneath. Even if you don’t, he’s there. And he’s the other half of my soul. Whether it is rational or not. Whether it’s wrong or not.”
Zaal was quiet for many minutes, then nodded his head. “I will get to know him and I will accept him. We were all fucked up by those people. But now he is out, and he is strong. And if Luka and I are any indication, he will find it hard adjusting to life outside.” Zaal patted his chest. “As your brother, I will help him adjust.”
My cheeks were wet with gratitude. Gently moving out of Valentin’s embrace, I stood up from the mat and walked to Zaal. Zaal got to his feet and stood anxiously before me. A wave of shattering emotion, mainly gratitude, washed over me. Needing my big brother, I lau
nched forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. Zaal held me close, and I warmed knowing this was the reunion we should have had. This was Zoya holding her Zaal—like it always should have been.
I held him for what felt like an age. Drawing back, I reached up to hold his head and pulled him down. I pressed a kiss on his forehead and brushed my thumb over his moles. Catching the instant smile on his face I declared, “I love you, Zaal. You are my blood. My heart. My big warrior brother.”
“I love you, Zoya.” Zaal pulled back and nervously said, “Talia is upstairs. We are never apart. She does for me what you do for Valentin. She cares for me. She loved me when I could not remember what love was.” My heart squeezed and I immediately regretted my earlier reaction. I hadn’t let myself see it or maybe I simply didn’t acknowledge that he was damaged, too. Right now, hearing him talk of Talia as though she was his lifeline, I could detect the vulnerability in his voice. He was just like Valentin: a killer, a monster that deep down simply wanted to be loved.
Zaal shifted on his feet and muttered, “Would you … could you—”
“Meet her properly?” I interrupted.
Zaal’s eyes were wide with apprehension. “Yes,” I replied.
Zaal sharply exhaled and said, “If you give her a chance, you will love her. And”—he paused—“and she wants to know you, too. She’s been upset since you left.”
Shame flowed in my blood and I pointed to the stairs. “Then let’s go. I want to be back in case Valentin wakes up.”
Zaal led the way. When he opened the door to the gym, I heard a female voice ask, “How is she, baby? Would she speak to you? Are you okay?”
Before Zaal could reply, I walked through the door, to see her arms around his neck. Talia’s brown eyes landed on me and I walked to her side. Talia broke from Zaal and stood proudly at his side.
I could see the confidence she clearly had in the way she stood. And to my shame, I could also see how much she wanted to know me. Talia glanced to Zaal, whose face still betrayed his apprehension.