VEN

by K. Webster

  Kira?

  Where is…

  My thoughts end when I find her. The discarded, naked, mutilated body of my friend…slain. She’s missing an arm, and blood layers her thighs from her brutal rape. Sorrow washes through me, and I gag and retch, bringing up bile as I stagger over to her body. Her eyes are wide open, but her mouth has been sewn shut with four angry incisions. The punishments of speaking business to the law and taking from the hand that feeds you. I drop to my knees and drag my fingertips over her eyelids, forcing them closed. She didn’t deserve this.

  A howling noise echoes all around me, and it takes me a few seconds to realize the sound is coming from me. Anger, sorrow, frustration, and injustice bubbles out of me in waves.

  “I like the vocal ones, Diana,” Hiss grunts from behind me, his heavy boot connecting with my shoulder, forcing me to fall on my side. He reaches down and grabs my ankle, pulling me along the dirt floor. Stones scrape at my flesh as I kick out with the other foot and try to claw myself to freedom. I reach down and yank one of the other knives I keep strapped to my leg, but Hiss smacks it from my hand and drops my ankle to grasp my throat. He lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing. I scratch and hit at his forearm, trying to bring my arm up and over to break his hold, but it’s futile.

  With a jolt of his arm, he tosses my body against a glass window with a thud. The wind expels from my lungs, and panic sets in. I close my eyes and think of all the training Vas put me through.

  “Whatever happens, keep calm. Visualize the win, Diana.”

  I can’t let them win. I can’t let Yegor defeat me. I can’t die here.

  I. Fucking. Won’t.

  He lifts me up by the neck and pins my back against the glass, my toes barely touching the ground. With a strong, meaty hand, he tears at my shirt, ripping it in two, causing the fabric to fall away, exposing my breasts to him. His eye latch on to them with greed, and it’s my in.

  “You like what you see?” I choke out past his tight grip, slipping the blade from my belt strap behind me.

  Releasing me, he grins and steps back to admire my bare skin on exhibit.

  Once again, I drop to my knees and slice at this inner thigh as I roll around him. Slow. Measured. Careful. Precise.

  This time, I don’t fail.

  Scooting away from him on my ass, I glare up at him, waiting for the giant to fall.

  “Your little tricks didn’t work last time, Diana, and they won’t work this time,” he snarls.

  I shake my head and keep backing away. “I just didn’t go deep enough last time.” I grin, dipping my eyes to his new wound.

  Following my stare, he looks between his legs to see the deep cut squirting out blood like a puncture in a hose. “What the fuck?”

  “Your femoral artery is severed. You may not feel pain, but you’re still human,” I taunt.

  He teeters forward, his skin already paling as his life flows from him. When he collapses heavily to the ground, elation fills my body.

  I killed him.

  I fucking win.

  Chaos from behind the glass draws my attention. Yegor glowers at me as a brawl happens behind him. Feeling free for the first time in my life, I move to where Hiss’s body lays. Bending, I swipe a finger through his blood, then walk over to the window. I use my finger to paint my lips red, then offer Yegor my middle finger once I’m done.

  Fuck you.

  You’re next, asshole.

  Diana…

  Diana…

  DIANA!

  I lurch upright, ignoring the pain in my skull. I’m still in our viewing room, only I’m on a couch at the back of the room, and everyone else but fucking Rus is at the window. I leap to my feet and Rus holds his hands up to stop my pursuit. I rear a fist back and smash my fist into his jaw. He hits the floor like a stone tossed from a skyrise. Vika’s snigger from the corner fades as I rush over to the windows, pushing my way through the bastards enjoying the show.

  “Glad you could join us,” Father scoffs. “I had to have Ronald sedate you.” He gestures to this “Ronald”, one of his fucking henchmen.

  Vlad smirks at me. “By sedate, he means cold clock you from behind with a bottle.”

  Reaching down, I take a bottle from one of the tables, smash it before anyone knows what’s happening, and bury it into Ronald’s eye.

  Vlad booms with laughter as everyone begins scuttling around like rats to get out of my way.

  “Bitch,” my father roars.

  I turn my attention to him, and then I see her.

  My Diana.

  Bruised, bloody, her clothes shredded.

  But she’s alive.

  Thank fuck.

  I fight my way to the window, and pound on it, but she’s already retreated. Searching the monitors, I watch as she maneuvers through the arena.

  Turning on my heel, I run past the chaos in the viewing box into the hallway. People are milling about, either looking smug as fuck or furious. A lot of money exchanged hands this year, but I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of it right now.

  All that matters is her.

  She may have betrayed me because Anton warped her mind, but I know the real Diana. The one in that hospital bed months ago was the brainwashed bitch—not the girl I’d sit on the couch with, pull her feet into my lap, and rub them as we discussed music and drank the finest Russian vodka all those years ago. Seeing her after all these months and knowing I could have lost her permanently shifted something inside me. Nothing matters. None of the bad blood that passed between us, not her crushing words or angry glares. All I could see, think about, care about, was the way she felt in my arms. How she mewled when I entered her body. How the words I love you slipped from her lips in our vulnerable moments.

  Moya roza.

  She has motherfucking thorns, and I couldn’t be prouder.

  I’ll get her in my arms and make her see, goddammit, that we are good together. For a short while, we were. Her smiles. Her throaty voice. Her beauty radiating like the fucking sun.

  A queen.

  I worshipped her.

  I still do. Fuck, I still fucking do. No time can erase her from my soul.

  She scorned me with the shit she spewed at me. For months, I stewed and stewed over it. But after seeing her annihilating in The Games—I realize a vicious queen belongs with a vile king. With me. We belong together, even if I have to force her to see it. She will see it.

  I reach for the button outside the elevator, my tattooed flesh reminding me: power. Together, we could own this whole fucking world our fathers created for us. I just need her in my arms—proof she’s truly still alive.

  The doors open, and I step inside. Slapping the button, the doors close behind me and I get a glimpse of my reflection. I’ve seen this look before. When my face reflected back at me in the glass of the viewing box in The Games years and years ago.

  Volcanic.

  Victorious.

  Valiant.

  Vetrov.

  The doors open once more, and I rush out into the hallway. I stalk over to the guards who monitor the coming and going of the underground holding areas. The less important players and pawns all enter The Games from this route, and I know some of the guards down here.

  “Let me in,” I order, and get a shake of their head.

  “There’re no entries until the end, sir.”

  “I need to get in there now,” I bark. I’m going in to get my girl. She’s done enough. She’s done e-fucking-nough.

  “Ven,” Vas growls from behind me. I dip my head and clench my fists.

  “I thought you were coming down here. Do you not think I already tried this?” he scoffs.

  “There is no protecting her, and she’s proven she doesn’t need our protection. It’s nearly over. Let her finish,” he warns.

  “I can’t. What if something happens between now and then?”

  My heart thunders like an accelerant has been poured directly into my veins.

  “Trust her ability. She n
eeds this,” he grits out. “She needs to finish.” And with those words, he disappears to go back to the viewing box.

  Fuck.

  I’m left staring at those monitors like my will alone can determine the outcome. Wild, dilated eyes gleam with a thirst for victory. She’s an animal—wild and free.

  I hold my breath as someone approaches her, but she disarms them with a hard kick to their knee cap and a fist to their temple. Good girl.

  A genuine smile pulls up my lips when she begins stripping them and uses the clothes to cover herself.

  I tap at the monitors to keep her on my main screen, my fists tightening when she enters a room where voyeurism is the allure. She moves to the back and crouches low. She’s tired.

  “It’s nearly over,” I whisper, knowing she can’t hear me.

  Tick…tick…tick…

  Time passes so fucking slowly. The moans and groans of the sex happening within the room seeps from the speakers, but it doesn’t have any of the desired effect it usually might. Getting off is the last thing on my mind. Every fiber of my being is telling me to go to her but I can’t, I’m stuck here watching her through monitors as the seconds, minutes, hours pass by.

  Tick…tick…tick…

  She hasn’t moved, and neither have I. No one appears to have noticed her resting at the back of the room. She’s going to do it. I want to punch the fuck out of the clock ticking down on the screen. My fucking eyes sting, and I don’t think I’ve blinked for the last few hours.

  Tick…tick…tick…

  My heart thunders in my chest when the clock hits zero.

  A horn sounds, and lights flood the room she’s in. Walls and structures begin to move and shift within the arena. Doors that were locked open, and that’s fucking it—game over.

  I chase the video footage as she makes her way to the finishing gate. She’s surrounded by other players, men and women who entered with guards. Some who only entered to seek pleasure—not kills or death.

  There’s some second-rate warriors with bounties they’ve chosen to claim rather than kill. But from all the First Family warriors, and even independent warriors who entered and took a shot at her, she’s the only one I see left standing.

  Diana Volkov, winner of this year’s warriors in The V Games, is my prize, and I’m going to claim her once and for all. Out of all the warriors the First Families put forth, she survived every one.

  My fucking rose.

  Sobs. The first thing I hear are sobs as I rush to the gate she’s coming out from. Little Irina takes Diana into a tight embrace and is crying for her older sister. The two women clutch onto each other. Diana, ever the big sister, strokes her bloody fingers through Irina’s shiny hair in an effort to comfort her. Vas stands behind Diana, his hand grasping her shoulder in support.

  Unlike their father, Leonid, the Volkovs are an impressive force. Diana represented their name in The Games, and she proved their worth.

  “Diana,” I call out, my voice husky. Every essence of my being vibrates within my bones to go to her.

  Irina pulls away, and Diana turns her attention my way. She looks fucking awful. Unrecognizable. My elegant, classy girl has been transformed into a savage animal. Dark red blood is crusted around her nose. Her dark auburn hair is matted and dirty. She’s wearing what I assume is Vas’s jacket over the clothing she stole from an enemy.

  Blue eyes, sharp and severe, cut through me like one of the blades she so effortlessly used in The Games. “Veniamin,” she says, her voice emotionless.

  I start for her, and Irina steps in front of her to glower at me. Behind Diana, Vas glares at me too. Still, they remain a united front.

  “Diana, can we talk?” I ask, my words soft and fucking desperate. “Please.” I just want to yank her into my arms, wash away the horrors, and hold her until she remembers how good we can be.

  “I think she’s been through enough. She’s going to need time,” Vas snaps, his blue eyes electrified with fury. He slings his arm over her shoulder and ushers her away. I start after them, but Irina stops me by gripping my arm.

  “Leave them,” she says softly, one hand rubbing her stomach.

  “I love her,” I grumble.

  Irina frowns up at me. “You what?”

  I meet her stare with a firm one of my own. “You know I always have.”

  Her brows furrow together even further. “I heard through the grapevine you and Diana were together for a while. I was happy for you both. Ever since that kiss I saw when I was a kid…” she smiles, “I was rooting for you.” Her features harden. “But she was different back then. Sweet and pure. And then…”

  And then Anton stole her innocence. Forced her into womanhood.

  “Every man she’s ever known has betrayed her, Veniamin. Our Father, Anton, Vlad, and…” she drifts off.

  And me.

  I fucking left her there with my father. I should have known he took my proposal of marrying Diana too fucking well. I left her to be eaten by the big bad wolf.

  An oppressive presence alerts me to Vlad. He prowls around me and pulls his wife against him, his large palms splaying over her pregnant belly. She relaxes against his body, and his brow lifts at me as though to say, “Don’t mind me.”

  “She can’t possibly come back from that and be the same,” Irina whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. “She’s always been so strong, and I’m worried she’ll never be soft again.”

  She will. Once she’s back in my arms. I’ll bring our Diana back. My fucking Diana.

  One week later…

  I look at my watch for the millionth time, earning a chuckle from Rus. My eyes dart his way. He looks smug as fuck sitting in a leather chair smoking a cigar. All week, we’ve been busy collecting our earnings from The Games. Ruslan, despite having done zero work, has been paid and seems to assume he’s now a part of the big boys’ club. Vika—fuck, I never thought I’d feel sorry for her—has sported permanent bruises this week for all to see. I’d thought maybe her brother or father would stand up to my brother about the way he mistreats her, but they ignore it.

  “You seem anxious, brat.” Brother. “Are you waiting for a certain victor to show up?” he asks, his brow quirked up.

  Letting out a heavy breath, I walk over to the mini bar set up in the study and pour a glass of brandy. “I’m not anxious.” Lies. “I’m eager to get this shit over with.” More lies.

  “Why?” he asks, genuinely confused. “The celebratory dinner is the best part of all this. Eat. Drink. Be fucking merry.” His eyes darken at the mention of the last word. Coincidentally, one of the new maids is named Mary.

  “Where’s Vika?”

  He scowls, and his jaw clenches. “Getting ready.”

  Last night, at dinner, Ruslan knocked the shit out of her. Usually, she gets back up, but this time, I had to be the lucky bastard to pick her up off the floor and carry her to her room. One of these days, he’s going to hurt her so bad, she won’t get back up. I wonder if Vlad and Yuri would take notice then.

  Ruslan scratches at his beard, and I refrain from curling my lip up in disgust. Seeing him with his facial hair growing in like Father’s has irritation growing inside me. We are the bearded vultures. Sometimes it’s almost laughable. It makes me wonder if Diana sees my father—the one who hurt her—whenever she looks at me.

  My chest aches.

  I’ll never be able to undo what he did to her.

  But I want to be the one to pick up her pieces and hold them all together. Just like when she grieved over the loss of that monster Anton. She may have told me we were nothing and I was just a pawn in her game, but I know better. I just fucking know better. Tonight, I plan to find her, hold her to me, and keep her. I’m going to keep her, goddammit.

  “I’ve already started scoping out potential fighters for next year,” Ruslan tells me. “Rodion and Zahkar found me someone worthy.”

  I lift a brow and suck down my brandy in one gulp. Slamming the glass down, I pour more. “Maybe you
should compete.”

  His eyes widen and he gapes at me. “Me? I’m married. I’ll have a family soon with Vika. An heir to the Vetrov name is better than me competing,” he grumbles. “I’ll choose a skilled fighter in my stead.”

  Pussy.

  “How are our cousins?” I ask, guilt niggling at me. I’ve been waiting on the storm to come, but they’ve been oddly silent. I stole their little kitten and brought her to the pound to be put down. I’m sure they’re pissed. With time, though, they’ll get over it. I am still curious how they took me going behind them like that.

  “Zahkar doesn’t talk to me,” he snaps bitterly. “But Rodion was acting like a little bitch on the phone.” His eyes light up and his grin is wolfish. “Oh, he wanted me to give you a message.”

  I frown as I wait for him to continue. “Today, Rus. Stop playing games.”

  His nostrils flare, reminding me of our father. “He said, and I quote, ‘That was a dick move.’”

  With a roll of my eyes, I drain another glass of brandy. “Albeit a necessary one. Rodion will get over it in time. I’m sure he didn’t complain about the nice deposit I transferred into his account.” For keeping Kira imprisoned all those months until The Games, they earned a hefty cut.

  “Now that you mention it, he did say he and Zahkar got new cars,” he muses aloud.

  Probably matching fucking cars, because the Madmen of Moscow are that extra.

  Someone clears their throat from the doorway, and I turn to see my father. His large belly strains against the buttons of his dress shirt. He’s all smiles, and his thick beard has recently been groomed, giving him a distinguished, civilized look.

  Too bad it’s a mask.

  He’s a hellion with money.

  Can’t camouflage that shit.

  It’s taken every part of my restraint not to take a dagger to his hand—to cut away the weapon that hurt moya roza. I will take vengeance on him for her in time.

  Ruslan rises from his chair and walks over to Father. They shake hands, and I give him a small nod. That’s all I can muster. My rage when I’m around him is potent, and the only thing masking it is the ball of fucking nerves I’ve turned into wondering how tonight will go. All the First and Second Families will be in attendance at Leonid Volkov’s hosted dinner.