VEN

by K. Webster

  Kira shoots me a confused look. “Ven?”

  “It’s just a game, Baskin,” I say without emotion. “And tomorrow, you’ll lose.”

  One of the men grab her by the elbow and head toward the exit.

  “Wait,” Yuri barks.

  Both men stop moving and look between Yuri and my father. My father holds up his hand, motioning them to stay.

  “She doesn’t even look scared of her fate,” Yuri growls.

  “She’s high and horny.” I smirk, walking over to her and coaxing her mouth open with my thumb. Leaning forward, I take her mouth in a brutal kiss. She breaks from the men holding her and clings to me, trying to climb me like she needs me more than her next breath. She’s so buzzed out of her face, she doesn’t realize the danger she’s in. The cocktail of toxins racing through her veins search for simulation. She’s losing her mind, losing control. I pull back and shove her away. She lets out a cry as the men grab hold of her.

  “She needs to feel fear,” Yuri snaps at me, and I solidify. Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? “It makes for better prey,” he adds coolly. “Yegor?” He turns to my father. “I’ll give you a million for her right now.”

  I smirk at Yuri and shake my head. “She’s not his to sell. She’s mine, and she’s going in The Games. Bids will start at two mil for her death.”

  Yuri rolls his head over his shoulders and narrows his eyes at me while still speaking to my father. “Yegor, I’ll give you a hundred thousand for the mother.” He sneers the word, like it’s poisonous.

  “Done.” My father slaps him on the back. “She’s a little used up, however.”

  Yuri makes a show of pulling a knife from his inside pocket. It’s a butterfly knife he’s skillful with. When flicking it open, the wings retract to showcase a sharp, silver blade. The woman on the floor who resembles someone I once knew tries to scuttle backwards, but comes up against Leonid’s frame blocking her retreat.

  “No,” she mumbles.

  Grabbing a handful of the tufts left of her hair, Yuri drags her up to him, and a scream bounces from her lips, echoing around the walls.

  “Mom!” Kira starts moving her feet forward, but the men holding her don’t let her get far.

  “Do you love your mother, little girl?” Yuri taunts. “It’s kill or be killed in The Games.” Pushing Monica into my father’s arms, Yuri stalks Kira, taking her hand and pushing the handles of the blade into her palm. He holds her arm out in front of her, his fingers encasing her fist holding the knife. He looks up and nods to my father, whose eyes expand and sparkle with excitement. Father holds Monica in front of him and moves toward Kira’s outstretched hand.

  “No! No, stop,” Kira begs, wiggling her body. But Yuri has her in his hold now, and there’s no escape. The flesh of Monica’s stomach meets the blade slowly, blood trickling out leisurely at first. She doesn’t cry out, but instead stares Kira directly in the eye, and whispers, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. You can close your eyes.” Her words have a lisp from her missing teeth, but they’re clear as can be.

  Yuri’s scowl becomes murderous, clearly infuriated by Monica taking control, and uses Kira like a puppet. He grips her wrist tighter and plunges forward with more force. The pained sound of Monica gasping makes Kira cry. The haze of the drugs isn’t strong enough to save her from witnessing this horror.

  Agitated with the show not having its desired effect at scaring Kira, Yuri pushes her aside and takes the knife for himself. He jabs it over and over into Monica’s torso, until she becomes so limp in my father’s arms, he drops her to the floor with a thud. Her blood coats everything. The floor where she now lays, the walls, my father, Yuri. They’re like lions who just tore apart their dinner. I look over to Kira, but she’s out cold, the shock too much for her.

  “So, just one Baskin entering The Games?” I jest.

  “One’s enough.” Yuri grins, streaks of blood spattered on his face.

  “Clean this up,” my father orders. I stop one of his men when they attempt to pick Kira up. “Leave her. I’ll deliver her to The Games tomorrow myself.”

  I kept Kira with me last night. She slept for twelve hours straight, then woke with a jolt, panicked, and tried to flee from the black room where I kept her. Father said to take her to a cage, but I wanted to keep an eye on her. The black room used to be a favorite of mine, but now it’s meaningless, just like the rest of the rooms in this house. I only brought her there because it’s the only place I never got to bring Diana, so there’s no reminder she’s gone.

  I wish I could just take a match to the house, burn the lot, and start fresh brick by brick.

  Kira moans next to me in the passenger seat as she comes to. I had to sedate her to get her in the car. The motherfucking V Games are today. The current bid on Kira’s head is three million. Every family wants the credit for seeking vengeance, so they all put their money where their mouths are. When you’re stupid rich, money becomes just paper in an endless notepad.

  Let them spend it. I’ll enjoy claiming that debt when Hiss takes Kira out.

  “Where are we?” Kira groans, rubbing her hands down her face.

  “That’s not important any longer. Where we’re going is what matters.”

  “Ven?” she croaks.

  “Shut up and save your voice. You’ll need it for your screams,” I taunt.

  The arena is located on some Vasiliev land far away from any and everything. Total privacy and protection. Only the selected elite know of its existence. The building is huge, completely enclosed with no windows on the outside. You have to drive in beneath it to enter. It’s a modern day underground Colosseum. Rooms hold the contestants until it’s time. Hunters. Elite family members trying to prove their worth. Whores for the depraved pleasure seekers. The depraved themselves. Warriors. And the pawns. All waiting to be thrown into a lion’s den.

  Exiting the car, I hand the keys over and offer my wrist to be scanned. The microchip buried just under the skin gives all the details of who I am and contains my V Game mark.

  “Thank you, sir.” He nods, gesturing for me to enter the elevator. I drag Kira by the upper arm and punch the button for the ground floor.

  “I’ve known you my whole life.” She sniffles.

  “Shut up,” I growl, pushing her up against the elevator wall and taking out one of the pills Rodion likes to give her. “Open,” I demand. She tries to fight, but then gives in, opening her mouth like the greedy addict she now is. I force her head back to make sure she swallows. The elevator dings, opening its door into the corridor where the First Families’ entries and viewing boxes are situated.

  I see Vas’s solid back as he speaks to someone animatedly. I pass, and my eyes lock with little Irina’s, who stands slightly off to the side of them. Now that she’s Vlad’s wife and expecting a kid from what Rus tells me, she’s acting the part of a grown up. Fancy as fuck hair and clothes. I can see her swollen belly, and pain slices through my chest, forcing me to look away.

  Thoughts of Diana demand their way into my mind.

  For one split second, as we maneuver the halls to the First Families’ viewing box, I allow myself to think about her. How it’s a good thing she managed to get out of this shit. The loss of a baby, even though it wasn’t fucking mine, had to have killed her emotionally. Diana doesn’t take grief well. The old me wishes he could go to the Volkov estate, pull her into his arms, and kiss away the pain, make her tell me what she said at the hospital was all a lie. The sane me knows better, though.

  And the new me doesn’t give a fuck.

  The new me grabs Kira’s ass brutally and nips at her throat, roaring internally at the way she cries out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. It’s a show—all a fucking show—so people don’t see the pain searing through my veins.

  Maybe I should fuck the little Baskin girl before sending her out into The Games. Fill her with some Vetrov cum and watch it run down her legs as every motherfucker in the arena goes for her throat. My dick hardens
at that thought.

  We enter the giant room the First Families occupy during The Games. There are several large, flat-screen televisions hanging from the walls. They’re there because the First Families are excessive as fuck and like to see every angle of the chopped up arena. They like to see in every dark corner, in every room. That fucking place is like a maze when you’re inside it fighting for your life. I remember all too well being on the other side of that thick glass.

  The massive floor-to-ceiling windows allow the spectators to see events up close. Many pay for their warriors to bring their kills or bounties to their master’s windows for that extra personal experience. Televisions are unnecessary in this case. Hiss knows the First Families want to see Kira’s death up close and her blood to taint that very window.

  During my V Games stint, I’d come to the glass, tapped my machete on it, and scared the shit out of some of the other spectators. The bounty on my head was high, but I prevailed.

  Vetrov.

  Fucking bearded vultures.

  We survive and tear every piece of those around us until they’re nothing but bones. The Voskoboynikov family has slowly been wasting away because of us. We pick at them little by little. At today’s games, we’ll take even more money from the First Family barely holding onto their status. Whoever they put into the games will be crushed by Hiss. My cousins trained him well. He’s brutal. A fucking monster. Feels no pain and has a one-track mind. When they close those arena doors and Hiss enters the fray, he’ll murder every single piece of shit in there, including little Kira Baskin, and we’ll collect all the money.

  I’ve never been prouder to be a Vetrov.

  Perhaps Father isn’t an outdated dinosaur.

  Perhaps he does know what the fuck he’s doing.

  As we enter, I see Father is already here, basking in the limelight. He lives for this shit. Fucking royalty. He’s caught up in a conversation with Leonid and doesn’t acknowledge our presence. But footsteps behind me have his attention.

  “Ahhh, Yuri,” Father says, all smiles.

  Yuri, with Vlad at his side, stalks into the room as though he owns the place. Technically, he does. One day, The V Games won’t stand for Vasiliev. It will belong to the Vetrovs.

  Father sidesteps around me to greet Yuri, the pair walking over to the glass, whispering lowly. Then, Leonid Volkov and several of the Voskoboynikov men join them. A hand clutches my shoulder, and I turn to regard Vlad. I haven’t spoken to him much since he dropped Diana on my doorstep. That feels like a lifetime ago.

  Unlike our fathers, who act like petulant children most days, Vlad and I are more masterful players. It’s all a fucking game.

  “Oh, Kira,” he rumbles, staring at her with an intensity that makes her stiffen. “What a pleasure it is to see you after all these years.”

  She swallows, but doesn’t respond, terror silencing her. Just wait until she gets out there.

  “She can use our entry if you please. It’s almost time,” he informs me, nodding his head to two men clad in black and armed with military grade weapons.

  I release her into their hold, ignoring her pleading screams for me to save her, and turn my attention back to Vlad.

  “Married life is treating you well, I see,” I say, holding out my hand.

  He shakes it, and a rare, real smile tugs at his lips. Bitterness clenches my heart, but I ignore it.

  “Who says you can’t marry for love?” he says quietly, so our fathers don’t overhear. “I say we do whatever we want. Because we can.” He pierces me with a fierce stare. “They’ll learn one day.”

  Our gazes drift to our fathers. Graying. Aging. Withering away. Their strength is gone, and their dicks won’t work soon. All they’ll have left is their money. We’ll take that too, in time.

  Then, only the strongest will survive.

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Sometimes, I wonder if there is even a line between the two. At least in our world there doesn’t seem to be.

  “Send Irina my regards,” I tell him.

  “I will,” he says.

  I’m about to open my mouth when someone shoves me with their shoulder. I turn and lock eyes with Vas. Hate burns bright in his blue eyes, making me stiffen. What the hell is his problem?

  “This is on you,” he hisses.

  I glower at him, and Vlad snorts beside me. “What’s on me?” I demand, my posture straightening to my full height. I don’t like being approached with such disrespect.

  “Diana.” He clenches his jaw, then shoots my father a vile glare.

  Unease slides through me. Diana is safe at the Volkov estate. “What about Diana?” Saying her name fucking hurts, but I push it away.

  Vas scoffs and throws his hands in the air. “Don’t be so fucking obtuse.”

  Jerking my head over, I lift a brow at Vlad. “You know what this asshole is going on about?”

  Vlad’s face is impassive, but I see the glee glimmering in his amber orbs as he delivers his words. “Someone had to represent the Volkov name. It sure as hell wasn’t my Irina. And Vas?” he says as he waves at Diana’s brother. “Vas is here with us.”

  “Your trainee,” I snap at Vas. “Who did you send in?”

  He gives me a dubious look. “Where the fuck have you been, man?”

  I grab a fistful of Vas’s shirt and drag him to me, our faces just inches apart. “Speak. Now. Before I rip you limb from limb in front of every-fucking-body.”

  His blue eyes flare with fury. “Your goddamn father,” he hisses under his breath.

  “This is his call. He made it happen. First, he beats the shit out of her to make her lose the baby, and now this? I thought you cared about her enough to keep her the fuck out of here. I trained her, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I thought you’d stop it.”

  I blink in confusion. “Diana is here?” And my father fucking hurt her?

  “No,” Vas sneers, pointing to the glass beyond my father. “She’s there.”

  Cheers erupt around the room, signaling the event has begun. I stalk over to the windows, shoving my father out of the way. Hiss, my fighter, charges into the arena, bare chested and thirsty for blood. I see a flash of blonde as Kira looks around the arena in awe.

  And then I see her.

  Fierce.

  Violence rippling from her.

  Diana.

  No.

  Fuck.

  Behind me, chaos ensues as the men wearing suits start yelling out higher bids and shouting out their excitement. My eyes are locked on her. Her body is lean and muscled. She moves like a killer. Nothing like the poor, battered woman in the hospital months and months ago.

  “He’s going to kill her. Your fighter, the best fucking one out there, is going to gut that bitch.” Father slaps me on my back. “She deserves it after she betrayed our family.”

  He hurt her.

  He fucking hurt her.

  “Don’t worry, Veniamin,” he says with a wicked laugh, “Hiss has his orders. He’s to make her suffer.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  I feel like a gladiator being tossed into the battlefield. The doors clank shut behind us, and fear automatically clings to the air around me.

  Breathe, Diana.

  I let out a ragged breath, my muscles tense. I’m alert and coiled tight.

  Focus, Diana.

  Grit stone floor crunches under foot, and my eyes expand, taking in the sight before me. It feels so much bigger seeing it from within the arena and not the safety of the glass room. Space expands out in front of us with at least ten feet of open fighting area, and then there’s a metal wall with closed doors stretching around the grounds.

  The arena always appeared circular to the naked eye, but it is, in fact, the shape of a horseshoe. However, it’s broken into segments, the outer circle left barren from past warrior battles. They fight here like it’s the Roman Empire, and they’re just slaves bought to entertain.

  Hiss, the man Ven was tr
aining, enters through the same place as me, along with a young blonde woman. I’d seen her a few moments ago on Ven’s arm as he passed by. The pain of seeing him with another woman was fleeting when she was brought out and shoved toward the entrance of The Games. She tried to claw her way back in, making Hiss grin like a predator, enjoying the fear ricocheting through her body.

  I don’t know who she is, but she’ll be dead inside of five minutes, no doubt.

  Quickly, I take stock of the rest of the pawns entering from separate doors away from us. A loud clanging reverberates from the ceiling as huge containers are lowered somewhere beyond what I can see. I’ve watched these Games before and know women and men are held within those containers, spoils for whoever gets to them first.

  I’ll be avoiding the containers at all costs. Last year, that is how Viktor, despite having such a huge bounty on his head, stayed unscathed. He was alert, stayed to the shadows, and killed without hesitation.

  And then, just like always, I was watching and taking notes.

  I arm myself with one of the four knives I brought in with me, wary of both the girl and Hiss. As if sensing my fear, he moves toward me, breathing heavily. His naked torso ripples, his muscles heaving like demons are trying to tear through his flesh to freedom.

  My heart stutters, and I’m almost frozen in terror.

  Thoughts of Vas stabbing me over and over again in my stomach with a fake wooden knife in the training room assault me. At first, he bruised me until I could hardly breathe. Always caught me off guard. But then, I began to learn his tells. His breathing. His ticks. His eyes. And once I learned how to avoid his attacks, he taught me how to be the assailant.

  This is no different than the months and months I trained.

  The knives are real and the stakes are high.

  Win, Diana.

  I take a few cautious steps to the side, keeping the woman to my right in my peripheral. She doesn’t look like she’s even carrying weapons, but I’m not naïve enough to trust that fact.

  “Coming for me straight out the gate, huh?” I ask, my voice cold as I flash a grin at Hiss.