Resisting the need to kill, I pulled Zoya behind me. We followed the shadow down the hallway and up some stairs. The Wraith opened a door and took us toward a room at the back of the mansion. When we walked through the door, my stomach fell. The room was dark but large. Sitting in the center of the room were two small beds with straps attached to the frames. And on the back wall was a stack of large screens.
Zoya’s hand tightened in mine when the lowest screen showed Inessa. I stepped forward just as Mistress entered from a side door. Seeing her walk in, dressed all in black as always, her hair scraped back off her face, I whipped round to face her. “You bitch!” I snarled.
I glanced at the screen to see Inessa curled in the corner of a cell. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, and sweat was dripping from her skin. She was rocking back and forth, crying out like she was in pain. And she was, but it was the need to be taken. It was the drug they had her on that made her need to be taken to calm the yearning. Only a male’s seed could chemically soothe the ache.
Mistress moved to stand in front of the screens. Looking me straight in the eye, she said, “This has been 152’s punishment since you decided to disobey orders.” My jaw clenched so hard I feared it would snap. Mistress remained unmoved and added, “You knew the consequences, 194. You knew if you did not complete your hit you would cause 152 pain.”
“Bitch!” I snapped again, feeling Zoya squeeze my hand in support.
Mistress smirked. “It’s true: I am a bitch. Unapologetically.”
I shook. I shook as I stared at Inessa writhing in pain. “Help her!” I commanded.
Mistress approached us. I saw the Wraith guards in the room closing in, just in case I attacked. Mistress never even flinched. As she stood right before me, I pushed Zoya behind my back. Mistress reached out and ran her finger down my chest. “Are you asking me to send in one of my men to fuck 152? Is that what you are asking, 194? For your sister to be fucked?”
Red-hot pain flooded my body at the thought of my sister being taken like that, but I found myself saying, “Yes. Just put her out of her misery and take away her pain.”
Mistress stared at me without expression, until she smiled and walked backward. “I don’t think so, 194. In fact, I think I’ll leave her downstairs screaming in pain for a while longer.” She glanced over her shoulder at me and said, “In about an hour, if you listen hard enough, you should hear her agonized screams.”
“Do it,” I demanded. “Help her.”
Mistress stopped at the screens, and taking out the remote from her pocket she turned on another screen. My heart fell, and I heard Zoya’s quick inhale of breath when I saw it was Zoya and me in the chamber. It was Zoya in the cage, taking off her clothes as I stood before her holding the picana. My legs weakened as I watched myself under the influence of the serum collar. Zoya looked so afraid as she shivered in the cold room.
“You started off well, 194. When I watched you bring the Kostava back, I immediately recognized her face.” Mistress flicked through scene after scene of me torturing Zoya, until she stopped at Zoya shackled against the wall. The kiss that I’d pressed on her lips.
Mistress turned and pointed at the screen. “And then you failed.” She shook her head and laughed without humor. “All those years of training. All the years of my telling you the rules: Never feel sympathy for your victim. And never fall for one. Love has no place in a torturer’s life. No place in a killer’s heart.”
I could see the fury in Mistress’s eyes. Then the blood drained from my face when Zoya said quietly, “He’s not a torturer. He’s not a killer. He’s Valentin Belrov. And he’s a good man, despite your best efforts to take that goodness away.”
My eyes closed at the sweet sound of those words from Zoya’s lips. But they soon snapped open when I realized what she’d just done.
Mistress stood, frozen to the spot, glaring at Zoya. Everything else happened too quickly. Mistress nodded her head to her guard. The Wraith moved from beside us toward Zoya. Releasing Zoya’s hand, I ran at the Wraith, only to feel a Taser’s shock bolt through me from my neck. I boomed out a roar as the shock ran through me. But I kept running, until fire shot through my body from the back. I fell to the floor, hearing Zoya scream out.
I watched from the floor as the Wraith tied Zoya down to one of the beds.
I watched, unable to move, as they cuffed her to the frame, Mistress moving beside Zoya, ready to begin her torture.
My eyes closed as I fought for them to stay open, but as the darkness closed in I thought of the day Mistress had brought the torture to me.…
The lights in the dark room switched on, and I flinched at the brightness.
Blinking in my surroundings, I stared out of the metal bars of the cage to see if Mistress was coming back. I stared at the door to the back room, the room I feared most, but no one came through.
I pushed myself to sit up, glancing beside me to see 362 already with his back to wall, staring at the door, too. “They’ll come,” he said in Russian. “They always come.”
I looked past 362 to 221. He was sitting in the center of the cage, his head down, long hair covering his face. He was like the living dead, obedient only to that prick of a man who was always with Mistress. He made 221 call him Master. They tried to make 362 do the same, but whatever drug they pumped into his body only made him obedient for a short period of time.
As I heard the sound of a lock turning, my attention was drawn to the door. My stomach sank when Mistress stepped through, her eyes immediately landing on me. Mistress nodded her head at the Wraith guard. The Wraith from the corner of the room came to my cage and opened the door.
“Out!” he ordered, and I stood on shaky feet.
I had walked only three steps when 362 said, “Hold on to your name and your memories. Do not let them erase them. No matter what they do.”
Swallowing hard, I followed the Wraith guard to the door I most feared. I stopped in the doorway, but the Wraith shoved me forward. I stumbled into the room, hearing the door slam shut behind me. I straightened, and when I did the room came into focus.
My stomach fell, fear taking hold. Beds were in the center of the room, leather straps hanging from the frames. There were shackles on one of the walls, but on the other there was a metal pole, heavy chains hanging from the back.
Movement from the side caught my attention. I looked sideward, only to see Mistress and that man who tortured the twins. They were standing next to a long counter, its surface littered with needles and rows and rows of small bottles.
Mistress leaned in close to the man, and his eyes roved down my body. My skin shivered when it looked like he was sizing me up for something.
Mistress waved her hand, and a Wraith took hold of me, dragging me toward the metal pole. I tried to push back. I tried to fight, but the Wraith was too strong.
In minutes the Wraith had attached me to the pole, the heavy chains holding my feet to the floor and my body to the pole. No part of my body could move.
I breathed and breathed, trying to keep calm. All the time, I did what 362 had advised—I remembered. My name is Valentin Belrov. I have a sister called Inessa Belrova. She is being held captive. I have to set her free.
I repeated who I was and who I loved over and over, until I felt Mistress and her male friend standing before me.
As I opened my eyes, my focus immediately dropped to something in her hand. My nostrils flared when I saw what looked like a metal collar. I tried to move, I gave it everything I had, but I couldn’t break free.
Mistress stepped closer and, catching my gaze, said, “If you want to save your sister, from now on you will do exactly what I say. You answer to me, and only me. I am your Mistress.”
My eyes widened, and she asked, “Do you understand?”
Mistress raised the metal collar. “No,” I bit out when I saw the inside. Sharp needles were all around the collar, small pellets filled with liquid lying underneath.
Mistress handed the colla
r to the male. The man approached, and without saying anything he opened the collar and brought it to my neck. I tensed, my eyes squeezing shut as I felt the tips of the needles pressing against my skin. I took in a deep breath, and as I did the man pushed the needles into my neck. I screamed out as the needles sank into my skin, the flesh of my throat on fire as I was pierced. My head fell forward as the pain became too much to bear. I heard the sound of metal on metal as the male locked the collar in place. The man stepped back, and when I rolled my eyes open Mistress was staring at my neck.
I felt warm trickles down my neck. I knew it was blood. The man said something to Mistress in Georgian. I could not understand.
He pointed to the back of the collar. Mistress nodded her head. The man walked back to the counter, but Mistress stayed close. Her hand gripped my jaw, and she pulled my head up to face her.
“194, if you want to save your sister, you will do everything I say, do you understand?”
I wanted to fight, but all I could see was Inessa waving at me as she entered the arch of the Blood Pit. Finding my voice, I rasped, “Yes.”
Mistress’s eyes lit with excitement, and reaching behind my collar she said, “I’m glad you understand, but I would have made you obey me regardless.”
Mistress pressed something on the back of my collar. The collar suddenly tightened around my neck. The needles pushed farther into my skin. I screamed and screamed until no sound came from my lips.
I tried to breathe through the pain, but then I felt hot liquid injecting into my neck through the needles. At first the liquid felt strange, but as it began coursing through my blood it built up heat. As the seconds passed, the liquid turned into a roaring fire, flowing through my body, scorching me from the inside. As the fire burned, a thick fog began to fill my mind. Images and thoughts began to fall away. Suddenly 362’s face was in my head, and remembering what he had said, I closed my eyes as the fire roared higher, and thought, My name is Valentin Belrov. I have a sister called Inessa Belrova. She is being held captive. I have to set her free.…
17
ZOYA
Valentin’s large body jerked in spasms on the floor. I wanted nothing more than to be able to wrap my arms around him and keep him safe. I pulled at the straps tied around my wrists and ankles, but I couldn’t get free.
I closed my eyes, and dark thoughts filled my mind. I pictured Valentin tied to a bed like this, being forced to wear the collar. I thought of the girl on the screen, Inessa, being forced to take the drugs that had her rocking in the corner, all for some man to fuck her and take away her pain. And I pictured Anri and Zaal. My big strong brothers, being tested on. Being the guineas pigs for these drugs. The successes, the failures—all the pain.
A gasp from the side pulled me from my thoughts, and I saw Valentin jerk into a sitting position. His head hung and I could see he was weak. His large arms hung at his sides as though he couldn’t move. His beautiful eyes rolled as he fought for consciousness.
I wanted to cry for him, seeing this big man so weak and disorientated. But then the woman Valentin called Mistress ordered the Wraiths to move him. She had spoken to them in Georgian.
Two strong men dressed all in black picked Valentin up in their arms. Valentin’s body sagged and his feet dragged across the floor as they moved him to what looked like a metal pole.
“Tie him up!” the woman ordered. The men attached him to the pole and wrapped heavy chains around his body. My chest constricted when they moved back and I knew he couldn’t move.
As if sensing my despair, Valentin’s eyes blinked, and blinked again, until I could see him returning to me. His blue eyes searched the room, until they found me. As soon as he saw me, his body fought to move and I could see the fury etched on his face.
His teeth clenched together as he fought the hold of the chains, but even his incredible strength couldn’t move the heavy metal keeping him shackled.
“Zoya!” he shouted. My throat clogged at the pain and desperation in his voice.
“It’s okay,” I said back just as the woman moved from the counter along the wall.
Valentin’s blazing eyes landed on her, and he hissed, “I’ll fucking kill you.”
Unaffected, the woman passed where he stood. She was heading in my direction. My blood cooled on seeing the severe expression on her face. Landing at my side, she pushed my hair from my forehead. She had blocked Valentin from my view, but I could hear the clashing of metal. I knew he was trying to get free.
I remained still, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear. As if knowing that was what I was doing, she smiled at me, before assuming a stern expression.
The woman looked at Valentin and began tracing the length of my body with her finger, over the sweatshirt that Valentin had made me wear.
I clasped my legs together, my muscles aching as I pulled at the ankle cuffs. The woman stopped. Retracing her path, she paused when her finger reached the top of the zip.
“No!” I heard Valentin snarl.
But the woman pulled the zipper, the large sweatshirt opening up, revealing my bare breasts and my bare body below. She pulled it down until the zip parted. The woman pushed the material aside, my skin goose-bumping as the cool air in the room hit my skin.
I turned my head from her when her finger touched my stomach and ran up until it reached my breast. Her long fingernails scraped over my nipples. I cried out in protest, my wrists becoming red as I tried to free my arms to push her away.
“Get the fuck off her!” I heard Valentin thunder out. The woman pulled back and looked to Valentin. “I can see why she caught your attention, 194. She is beautiful.”
“Get off her,” Valentin demanded, but this time the deep guttural threat evoked fear in me.
The woman didn’t even flinch. The thrashing sounds of Valentin trying to get free increased, and my legs shook as I fought to keep my thighs together.
Then Valentin stopped moving altogether when the woman stood back and stared at my thighs. “Well, 194, it seems that you’ve already fucked her today.”
“I’ll kill you,” Valentin promised again; because it was a promise, his words were thick with darkness and danger.
The woman shook her head and smiled. “You will not, 194. Because you will do anything you can to protect your little 152, and now your little Kostava whore.”
The woman’s finger stroked along the outside of my leg, and she said, “She’ll make the perfect mona.” I closed my eyes at her words. Her words saying I would be a good slave. A sexual slave. Just like Inessa.
The woman moved away, and when she did I saw Valentin. His eyes were on me. When I captured his gaze, I mouthed, I am okay. I am strong.
But Valentin wasn’t. His body was flushed and bleeding from where he had fought the chains. But what had my heart breaking were the tears cascading down his pale, scarred face, a striking visual contrast—emotion on his violent visage. His blue eyes were brimming with pain as he stared at me.
The woman stood right before him, and she lifted her hand to his chest, gathering the tears that were running down his skin. “194, I believe you may even love the Kostava whore. It has been many years since I have seen you cry.”
Valentin never looked away from the woman, and I could see the reply to her comment in his eyes. My heart flooded with warmth when I saw the response loud and clear.
He loved me.
Opening my mouth, I made sure he was watching, and I mouthed back, Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.
I love you, too.
I mouthed it in Russian so there would be no miscommunication.
Valentin’s eyes closed at my words and I saw his body sag in defeat.
Suddenly a Wraith moved toward Valentin and the woman. He held something in his hand, and I shouted, “No!” when I saw it was a metal collar. A metal collar just like the one Valentin had ripped painfully from his neck.
The woman stayed silent as she lifted the collar to Valentin’s neck. Valentin stayed sile
nt as she lined up the needles with his healing wounds and pushed the sharp needles into his red, scarred skin. But Valentin’s eyes stayed on mine. And my eyes stayed on his. There was strength when we endured this together.
The woman fastened the collar, and she moved her mouth to Valentin’s ear, whispering loudly enough for me to hear, “You obey me, and only me, 194. You do anything I say. I own you.”
Then I watched in horror as she pressed a button on the back of his collar. Valentin’s eyes squeezed shut and his face turned bright red. The collar tightened against his neck, the veins and corded muscles protruding as the serum injected into his veins.
His teeth gritted together as his lips paled. Just as I thought he might collapse from the obvious pain, he thundered, “My name is Valentin Belrov. I have a sister called Inessa Belrova. I have a love called Zoya Kostava. They are being held captive. I have to set them free!”
My heart split in two as he choked out his new mantra, then his head fell forward. I waited with bated breath for him to move. Minutes and minutes passed by, until I saw a flicker of movement. His finger moved from underneath his chains. His body gradually began to wake, the blood running down his chest from the collar beginning to slow down.
My heart beat furiously in my chest when, as he lifted his head, I focused on his closed eyes. I heard my heavy anxious breathing echo in my ears; then it paused completely when Valentin’s eyes snapped open.
My stomach dropped when two dark dilated eyes stared straight ahead. He was alive but not living.
The woman moved in front of him and asked, “What is your name?”
Without any bodily reaction, Valentin responded, “194.”
I saw a victorious smile light up her face; then she asked, “Who do you obey?”
With the same vacant expression, Valentin replied, “Mistress.”
The last of my hope drained out of my body. The Mistress snapped at her men to get Valentin down. Valentin stayed absolutely still, his empty gaze fixed straight ahead.