“You bitch!” I snarled. I threw my head back and thundered out a tortured cry. Unable to contain my anger, I walked to the nearest bed and flipped it on its side, roaring out my rage with every new step. I tore the fucking room apart, the Mafia guards staying well clear.
After I sent my fist into the wall, I turned. My eyes locked on to her plaited leather whip, the one she liked to carry around with her. Grasping it tightly, I walked to where she was tied up. Luka had wrapped the chains around her shoulders and hips, leaving plenty of flesh for me to rip to shreds.
Hands shaking, I went to swing the whip when it suddenly froze in my hand. Mistress was looking at me proudly. She stared at me like I was the greatest creation. Then it hit me: even as she faced her own death, pride shone in her face at the monster she’d created.
Her perfect killing machine.
Her perfect torturer … her prized bringer of death.
My heart pounded hard, the whip tightening in my grip. I wanted to kill her slowly and painfully. I wanted her to suffer, yet I wanted no part of her pride.
I stepped closer, and closer still, until I dropped the whip to the floor, watching Mistress’s face fall, too.
Leaning close, I stopped just before her face. Her dark eyes watched me, and grimacing she spat, “You were always a failure. Even now, given the moment you’ve waited for all your pathetic life, you’re going to fail again!”
“Where is she?” I demanded, ignoring Mistress’s taunts. The look of victory flashed across her ugly face.
“Back with Master,” she muttered happily.
My heart sank. I asked, “When?”
Mistress’s eyes seared mine. Any laughter, any happiness at sending my sister away, fell from Mistress’s face as she bit out, “When you fell for the Georgian Kostava whore. When you stopped doing as I ordered and began fucking her instead, holding her in your arms and calling her your kitten.” Her lip curled in disgust and she spat, “I trained you to be an unfeeling killer. A torturer, an evil beast. And you failed. You’ve failed. You made a fool of me. So I did what you feared most—I sent scared little 152 to the Blood Pit, to be schooled, to be owned by Master in every possible way!” Her dark eyes narrowed until they became slits. “You knew the rules, 194. You broke them. I followed through on the punishment.” Her head cocked to the side. “Tell me, was the taste of your little Georgian’s pussy worth losing your sister for?”
I heard the sound of raw fury from behind me. I knew it came from Zaal. My skin burned with the need to bring this bitch down. Mistress’s face never flinched.
The room was quiet, my anger too strong, until Zaal said, “I need to get Zoya home and to a doctor. If you are coming, just fucking kill her.”
My head whipped to Zaal and the still and pale Zoya in his arms. Urgency took hold. I turned back to Mistress.
Without even looking in her eyes, I lifted my hand and in one quick move snapped her neck. I turned, only catching her body slumping forward in my peripheral vision.
I was a monster, she had that right, but I would no longer be the monster she wanted me to be.
I suddenly fell forward, my body leaning on my fists as I fought to breathe. My body sweated and shook with the reality hitting home—she was dead. Our torturer, mine and Inessa’s captor, was dead.
Then pain filled every cell of my body as I thought of my sister. Adrenaline surged through my body. But I staggered to my feet, only to see Luka and his guards staring at me. I glanced behind to see Zaal staring at me too, his green eyes tracking my every move. And I saw my Zoya in his arms.
Luka moved forward, reaching out his hand, but I snarled, “No!” and wrenched my arm free. Running to the wall of screens. My hands searched the counter until I found the remote control Mistress always used. Panting for breath, I randomly hit at the buttons until the screens turned on. I searched for Inessa. Then on the far right screen I saw her huddled in the corner of a cage, writhing on the floor with her hands between her legs, her dark hair damp as the pain took its hold. Then a male walked into the room, and I shook my head. “No,” I hissed under my breath.
“Master,” I whispered, and watched as he approached my sister. Inessa’s naked body arched on the floor, and Master dropped before her, crawling over her body. I watched, helpless, as he spread her legs and in one hard thrust slammed himself into her.
Inessa screamed out in relief. I had to avert my eyes. Emptiness and failure spread through my heart. Inessa was already in Georgia. She was already back in the Blood Pit.
My head stayed bowed until I heard the sound of my voice coming from one of the screens, followed by the crackle of my picana and a scream from her throat. “Tell me your name.” My voice sounded cold and unfeeling.
My heart tore when I heard Zoya’s timid voice reply, “Elene Melua. Kazreti, Georgia.”
I heard Zaal. I heard his heavy uncontrolled breathing from behind me. His strong arm hooked around my neck. Zaal Kostava, Lideri of the Kostava Clan, promised, “I am going to kill you, you lying fuck!”
I didn’t fight back. As Zaal threw me to the ground and straddled my chest, I searched for my Zoya. Luka Tolstoi stood in the corner with her in his arms and watched with seething eyes as Zaal began to punch my face. Blood filled my mouth, but I didn’t feel the pain.
“You fucking hurt her!” Zaal roared, and tore at the flesh of my chest with the tip of his sai. As I never took my eyes off Zoya in Tolstoi’s arms, my body began to turn cold. I vaguely saw someone pull Kostava from my body, but by that point it was too late.
Darkness closed in; the last thing I saw was Zoya’s limp arm hanging loose from the blanket.
And I smiled.
I smiled knowing she was safe.
Knowing that she was back where she belonged—with her family and her blood.
But as I stared at her hand I wished I could hold it in mine.
Hold her hand as I finally passed.
Just one last time.
20
ZOYA
I woke, an incredible heat setting my body alight. Deep confusion and a thick fog clogged my mind. My heart raced as I tried to think where I was. Opening my eyes, I was met with near darkness; the only illumination came from a lightly draped window at the far side of the room.
I tried to push myself from the plush soft bed in which I lay, but as I did my teeth gritted together at the aching in my limbs. I exhaled a long breath through my nostrils as I racked my brain. Where was I? What had happened? No matter how hard I tried, the fog wouldn’t clear.
Panting through my discomfort, I managed to slide to the end of the bed and swing my feet over the side. Hardwood floor; I jumped at the cold feeling. My hair hung over my shoulders and I ran my fingers through the silky strands. I frowned. My hair smelled of coconut. It was soft to the touch like it had been washed and carefully dried.
As I stared down at my body, I saw I was dressed in a long black nightdress. I couldn’t remember if this was mine, but as my hands felt the silk I knew it was expensive. Somehow I knew it wasn’t mine.
Needing to find out where I was, I pushed myself to stand up. As I scanned the room, I walked toward the window. I stayed to the side of the large pane but took a peek through the drape to see a busy street below me. I was up high; the building I was in stood tall compared to its surroundings.
Dropping the drape, I stood back. In front of me, across the room, was a door, light spilling out underneath.
My feet moved me across the hardwood floor. I opened the door, making sure I did it silently. A large ornate hallway lay beyond the door. I stepped out, immediately searching left to right.
I listened for any sign of life; to my left I heard the murmur of low voices. Running my fingers through my hair to calm my nerves, I slowly walked forward, my eyes widening at the tall ceilings and old pictures hanging on the walls.
My skin crawled at the unfamiliarity of such richness. I pushed my mind again to remember something, an ache at the back of my head telling me that I had to remember something important. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing sprang into my mind.
I reached a room; the door was open and voices came through. My heart initially raced when I realized the people were speaking Russian. Fear spiked down my spine, and I spun on my heel to flee, but I heard a deep voice that froze me mid-motion.