Raze (Scarred Souls #1)

by Tillie Cole

  A feeling of dread settled in my stomach. “I don’t know if I want to remember. I came here for one thing and one thing only: revenge. I didn’t come here for memories.” I dropped my head, staring at the tattooed tallies of my kills, my number 818, and said, “What if I don’t like who I was…? What if it sends me over the edge?”

  Viktor slumped to his ass and ran his hand down his face. “Isn’t it better than the cold monster you became in the Gulag? That you are in The Dungeon’s cage? And after you kill Durov, what then? Where do you go then? Another death match ring? There’s hundreds over the country. You could keep killing, making money until you’re slaughtered…” Viktor took a deep breath. “Or you could live, son. You could live … get back your life.”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I only ever had one goal: kill Durov.

  “I can help you to defeat Durov, but you need to help yourself, to remember your past. Right now you’re an animal, a machine that can only kill. But you were more, you are more than that.”

  My eyes were trained on the ground as my head felt numb, too numb to think, but then a question from Viktor’s mouth tore right through that haze.

  “Why Durov, Raze? Why Durov?”

  My chest tightened and my hands began to shake as a broken memory pushed through to my mind.

  Three boys. Three boys by the falls. On a family vacation. Two of them best friends. The third had a knife. The third stabbed one of the others … Then … then what?

  Energy filled my limbs again as I grew frustrated with the memory not showing me what I needed to know. Why Durov? Who were the boys? Who was stabbed? Was I there? Was I one of the boys?

  I wanted to know why that was. I wanted to know what I made myself forget, at least forget everything but the name of the cunt I had to kill.

  Alik Durov.

  Brooklyn, New York.

  Revenge.

  Kill.

  Sounds of fighters beginning to train filtered into my training room. Viktor got to his feet and held out his hand.

  “Get up, Raze. Train. And stop letting your past hold you back. Instead, use it to fuel you. This is your chance to take back your life. Get your revenge! Then get back your life!” Viktor glanced to the door, then back to me again. “Then you can get the girl. When Durov’s gone, you get the girl.”

  My anger faded as I thought of Kisa. She was my balm, my calm. My Kisa-Anna.

  I held Viktor’s gaze for a while, just breathing, centering my focus, coiling the fire inside, then gave him a curt nod. The guy was just as fucked up as me. I could see it in his eyes. But he understood me. I didn’t like him, but he understood me. No one else could.

  As I got to my feet, Viktor waved for me to follow him into the main area of the gym to use the ropes. As I entered the training space, the main doors opened from the underground parking and Durov walked in … his hand gripping my Kisa’s neck. Her expression was blank and her eyes unfocused.

  I physically shook upon seeing her under that bastard’s control.

  Viktor stayed close. “Ignore it. Control your anger. Kill first, live later. Then get the girl.”

  I tried to curb my rage by taking hold of the ropes and lifting them to Viktor’s counts, but Alik stopped dead center in the gym, directly in my line of sight, and crushed his lips on Kisa’s. The hardest battle I’d ever had to fight was stopping myself from charging the prick and ripping my woman from his arms.

  Kisa let it happen, but her body was stiff and unmoving. Anyone with eyes could see how frightened he had made her, but then that’s what he probably wanted, her too afraid to leave him. I wanted to decapitate him with a blunt knife. But she’d told me to act normal, to not give us away, so I was fucking acting normal.

  Dipping my nose to my shoulder, I inhaled deep and could still smell her on my skin, her hands gripping my shoulders as she came. That scent kept me from killing Durov. I held on to the fact that she would see me tonight after the fight … and by the end of tomorrow night, he would be dead and she would be mine.

  Durov let Kisa go, and she scurried off to her office without looking back. She looked beautiful in her black suit and her long brown hair tied back.

  Then Alik was suddenly in my face, Yiv stepping behind him, ready for him to train. I kept my head low.

  “Heard you’re against Goliath tonight.” I could see his face split into a shit-eating grin from my peripheral vision. “He’s a last-minute buy-in by my father. You know, to give the crowd a real show. Really test what you’re made of.”

  His eyes dropped to my workout regime that I hadn’t stopped while he shot off his stupid mouth. He laughed. “Looks like you’ll be slaughtered tonight, Raze. That fucker’s going to kill you. Can’t say I’m fucking sorry.” He leaned in and whispered, “And when I win, I’ll drag Kisa back to the holding room and fuck her up the ass. She hates it, tries to fight me … but it only gets me harder.”

  Fighting the explosion of rage inside, I let his comment go over my head and kept my focus, but I felt Viktor’s panic beside me. I wasn’t fazed by this fight tonight. I’d never been afraid in the cage. It was my domain, my home.

  Durov moved out of sight, and I glanced to Kisa’s office, only to be driven further in my workout when I saw her peering through the blinds, watching me.

  Intent refueled my muscles, and I didn’t give a fuck who this Goliath was. I was going to raze him the fuck down.

  Just one more tally tattoo to add to my torso and one less person in the way of having Kisa as mine.

  Chapter Fifteen

  RAZE

  The stamping of hundreds of feet shook the structure of the holding room walls in The Dungeon’s basement as Durov’s fight took place. I was skipping rope, warming up my body for my fight, when a huge cheer made me look to the door. I skipped harder, waiting for Viktor to come and tell me who’d won.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  Minutes later, Viktor walked through, his eyes down. “Durov won,” was all he said, but by the green tint to his face, I could see that Durov had done more than kill. He’d toyed and played with his opponent, again. Probably sliced him apart with his dagger, but in a way that kept him breathing until the last strike.

  Durov was “The Butcher” after all.

  Viktor walked to the basin at the edge of the room and threw water on his face, then came to stand in front of me. “I got a look at Goliath. Got some stats.”

  I kept my eyes on Viktor, but didn’t stop my warm-up.

  “He’s Georgian, new this season to the underground. But he’s never lost a match. He’s ruthless, has minimum weaknesses. Has about twenty pounds on you and about four inches in height.”

  I formed a picture of Goliath in my mind, visualizing bringing him down.

  “Weapon?” I asked.

  “A black sai,” Viktor replied.

  I stopped skipping.

  Freezing, I asked, “Is he Gulag?”

  Viktor nodded. “Yeah. Saw one of the trainers from one of the West Coast gulags. He’s one of their prize fighters. They’ve taken him on the road. Entering him in the underground contests around the country.” Viktor handed me a water bottle and gestured for me to drink. “You’re going to have to be smart with this one, Raze. He’s quick. Undefeated. So are you. But by tonight, one of you will be dead.”

  A knock rapped on the door, and the familiar words, “You’re up!” were shouted through the wood.

  I took off my sweatshirt and slipped on my bladed knuckledusters, smeared under my eyes with Eye Black, letting the hot rage fill my muscles as I prepared for the fight ahead.

  I heard the noise of the crowd grow louder, telling me Goliath had stepped into the cage. Viktor opened the door and led me out into the dim hallway. I glimpsed Durov in his holding room, an older man slapping him on his blood-covered chest, congratulating him. He looked like him. I just knew the cunt was his father. He looked just as fucking evil as Durov.

  The hallway was dank, filled with
the stench of death and trails of blood from previous fighters. I could hear my breathing in my ears, even over the roar of the crowd, and then I heard something else … the calling of my name.

  “Raze!”

  I looked to the side at the opening to another hallway. Kisa stood in the shadows. Viktor stopped dead and raised his eyebrow. Ignoring him, I rushed to the side and immediately lifted Kisa in my arms and pushed her back to the wall.

  Kisa’s blue eyes hooded as my chest pressed against hers, and I leaned forward to run my nose down her cheek. “Kisa…” I murmured as Kisa’s hands played with my hair.

  Her palms slipped down to my cheeks, and pulling my mouth to hers, she pressed her lips to mine. Growling into her wet mouth, I pushed my tongue inside until it met with hers. Kisa’s tits hardened against my bare skin.

  Her hands pressed harder on my cheeks and she ripped her mouth away, panting. Her fingers stroked at my cheeks and my cock hardened, my hips thrusting against hers.

  “Raze … I had to see you,” she whispered.

  My nostrils flared as I smelled her scent, wanting to have it on my tongue.

  “I want you,” I said, and I saw tears fill her eyes. I didn’t know what was wrong. All I could do was stare at her in confusion.

  Kisa’s expression suddenly changed and she smiled at me, running her fingertip down my neck. “I love it when you do that—tilt your head to the side, I mean.”

  My brows furrowed, not understanding what she meant, but I ignored it to ask, “Why are you crying?”

  Kisa wrapped her arms around my neck and tucked her nose. “I’ve just got you back when I thought it was impossible and you don’t even know it yet.”

  I felt even more confused. Then I pulled her back to face me, and, through her tears, she whispered, “I’ve seen who you’re fighting.”

  I tensed. “So?”

  “He’s huge, Raze. I asked around about him, and he’s never lost a match. He always gets his kill.”

  “So do I,” I said tightly, not enjoying her lack of faith in my skill. I was a killer. Undefeated.

  “I know, but…” She swallowed, staring into my eyes, leaning in to kiss the left one. “I’m terrified of losing you tonight. Abram had him brought in from under my nose. He’s scared, Raze. I know it’s because you could truly beat Alik in the final.”

  My heart turned to steel as her words kindled my determination to beat Goliath. To fuck over Alik and his father.

  Pressing my forehead to hers, I promised. “I’ll win.”

  A sob escaped her mouth, but I caught it as I pressed my lips to hers.

  “Please,” she spoke against my mouth. “I have so much to tell you. So much I want you to know. You need to survive.”

  “I’ll win, Kisa-Anna,” I rasped again, feeling her fear for me pulsing through her slim body. But what she didn’t know was I thrived on fear. It pushed me further.

  I wouldn’t lose … not when I had Kisa in my mind and her life to save from Durov.

  “You’ll win,” Kisa said with a relieved sigh.

  A cough sounded behind us.

  Viktor stepped closer, shock etched on his face, and said, “Raze, we’ve got to go. You’re needed in the cage.”

  I pressed another kiss to Kisa’s lips, took her finger and ran it down my stomach. “There’ll be another tally here tonight … and then I’ll have you again. When you come to me.”

  Kisa tried to smile, but I could see the nerves racking her body. I stepped back into the hallway and pounded down toward the tunnel, right into the crowd, men moving back to let me through. I had the cage in my sight, filled with bloodlust and the need to kill. I saw my opponent already circling the ring but paid no mind to him. My only concern was for Kisa … surviving for Kisa. Surviving to protect and care for Kisa.

  I ran up the steps and got to the steel door.

  “Let me in!” I bellowed, banging on the door. A guard came up behind me and released the lock, and I immediately bounded into the cage, clenching my fists.

  Then I looked up …

  And my stomach dropped.

  362?

  362 was tattooed on Goliath’s chest.

  As the door slammed shut, my opponent looked up. I saw the recognition flash across his face. He stilled. I stilled. And the gun fired a shot, telling us the match had begun.

  Neither of us moved, too busy staring at one another.

  He was your friend … Kisa’s words from last night ran through my mind.

  “Friend?”

  “Yes, your friend. You spoke with him, spent time with him. Confided in him … Liked him?”

  “I trained with him. He helped me adjust to life in the Gulag. Taught me how to block things out. We would never fight. We were the Gulag’s two best fighters. When the riot happened, he came down and freed me.”

  My heart beat faster than ever as I stared at 362 … Goliath? Kisa said he’d been my friend, and looking at him right now, sai in hand, for the first time ever in the cage, I couldn’t force my legs to move.

  I couldn’t bring myself to fight …

  * * *

  “818, come. We’ll do weights,” 362 called from the other side of the gym. I cautiously joined him at the bench press and stood behind to spot him as he lay on the bench.

  “You’ll train with me. You’ve got what it takes to survive. Training with those sniffling fucks you were brought in with will get you killed. They’re weak. Scared … They don’t belong in the cage.”

  “You’re not afraid of fighting against me?” I asked.

  362 smirked. “I’m older. It won’t happen. And when you get older too, if you become a champion like me, they’ll never pit us against each other. They’d lose too much money if they did.”

  I nodded and spotted his first press. “Then I’ll train with you.”

  362 smirked and began lifting his weights as though they weighed nothing. “Stick with me, kid, and together we’ll get out of this hell alive.”

  “Why me?” I asked.

  362 stopped and looked up at me. “Because I can see you didn’t do what you were brought in here for. It’s all over your face, in your eyes. You’re innocent, like me, but you’re strong, can fight, can survive … like me. Most kids here will die within the first few weeks, if not, by the end of their first year. But us, we’ll survive.”

  “You want to get out for revenge on the one that put you here,” I said knowingly, because I felt exactly the same way.

  “I do. And I’m going to have that day, as will you. Train with me, spar with me, and we’ll both get our revenge.”

  362 got back to his weights, and we trained together for years, until we became the champions he envisaged.

  We survived to get our revenge.

  * * *

  But now my revenge was blocked by my friend, my Gulag brother.

  362 walked to the center of the cage, and my legs carried me forward too. My fists clenched, pointing the blades forward just in case he struck, but I could see in 362’s dark eyes that he wasn’t going to attack.

  When we were face to face, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and he cursed under his breath. His face was pained, contorted.

  “818,” he said quietly.

  “362,” I said in return.

  He lowered his head.

  “This is your revenge? This is your path to the man who lied, who condemned you, who made you into one of us?”

  I nodded. “And you?” I asked, beginning to hear the upheaval from the crowd, unease that we hadn’t started fighting.

  “They caught me two hours away from the Gulag. I ran, but they caught me again. They’ve made me fight for them. Travel around the country, making me fight to the death. Then last night, I was sent here. To end the fighter who just stepped in the ring with me. I was told to make you suffer. To make it slow.”

  I froze. “Durov,” I snarled.

  362 narrowed his eyes. “The one who sent you to the Gulag?”

  I didn’t reply. H
adn’t remembered the details yet, but Durov was responsible somehow.

  Guards began to surround the cage, rifles at the ready. 362 moved closer still. “If I win tonight, I am to be freed. I will finally get my revenge.”

  Closing my eyes, I understood what he was saying. We both wanted revenge. And only one of us was stepping out of this cage alive.

  I opened my eyes, and 362 held out his hand. His face, for a brief moment, showed regret, and during that moment, I let slip a hint of compassion for my … friend.

  Taking his hand in mine, I nodded and said, “I am grateful for your friendship.”

  362 smirked. He always smirked. “Promise me this. If you are victorious tonight, you will get your revenge … for the both of us.”

  I squeezed his hand and said, “Only if you make the same promise.”

  362 dipped his head in acknowledgement. Our hands separated; all feeling, all compassion, fell away and supercharged adrenaline took hold.

  We stepped back. The guards relaxed. Only one rifle was raised again, to fire the shot signaling the restart of the fight.

  I knew this fighter, how he moved, how he thought, his weak areas, his strengths. But he also knew me. For the first time ever, I felt a pang of fear. This man could beat me. As we began to circle each other, I knew by the look on 362’s face he was thinking the same.

  362 suddenly lurched forward and struck my arm with his sai, the blade slicing into my skin. But he didn’t get away unscathed, for as he withdrew his sai, I pierced him with a glancing blow to his thigh. 362 stumbled back as it sliced nearly to the muscle.

  I felt blood running down my arm. 362 suddenly charged at me, dragging us both to the ground. The crowd went insane, their fists banging on the metal links of the fence. 362 and I grappled on the floor, both struggling for dominance, both evenly matched.

  But 362 was bigger and he managed to pin me down. His face tensed and his expression cooled as his sai came down toward my face. The crowd volume increased to fever pitch.

  I tried to push back, but 362’s strength was unrivaled and his size unmatched. Every one of my muscles strained. I could feel my veins throbbing in my neck and temple, but the sai came ever closer to my throat. This would be a kill. 362 would pierce my throat and I’d be dead.