Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva #4)(82)

Luka closed his eyes for a moment, letting it all sink in, preparing himself for the work he was about to put in. He rolled his head on his shoulders, stretching his arms out in front of him, feeling the muscles pull briefly before he relaxed back.

It was time.

Standing, everything else drifted away from him as he reached for the bag on Snow’s head, yanking it off in one swift motion. Snow’s head jolted back, not because of the force in which Luka removed the bag, but from whatever he saw in Luka’s gaze.

Luka had seen this look in varying degrees over the years, mostly when he was up against someone in the Pit. There was arrogance, yes, but fear as well.

“You can’t just kill me,” Snow said indignantly. “My people—”

“That’s the thing,” Luka cut him off, a smile curling his lips. “I don’t give a shit. So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get started.”

Luka took the blade from his pocket, running the pad of his finger along the edge of it, listening to Snow’s muffled grunts and the scraping of the chair legs as he struggled.

“I wasn’t always like this,” Luka said conversationally, returning to Snow’s side. “Of course, I’d never given much thought to what I wanted to be when I grew up, but this? This definitely wasn’t it. My mother was a cook, or rather she just liked to do it. I learned because I figured I would at least do one thing that made her proud. Fuck knows she’s rolling over in her grave now. I’ve always been curious about that, you know? Why do you have to roll over? Couldn’t you just shift to one side? Constantly rolling over in that tiny ass coffin sounds tiring.”

Snow’s eyes were wide as they darted over Luka’s face, and he had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. Though he couldn’t be sure why, everything he was saying made perfect sense.

“But that’s besides the point. We’re not here to talk about me.” He tapped the blade against Snow’s chest. “Let’s talk about you. How many girls have you forced to f*ck you in exchange for drugs? Here, let me give you a little motivation. If your answer is between one and two, then this ends. Anything more than that and I’m going to take this blade and cut your f*cking dick off, understand?”

“It was just the one, man. Just one.”

Luka sighed, a smile spreading on his face, and Snow, predictably, took that as a good sign.

“Then, just Alex?”

Snow nodded.

Luka spun the knife in his hand, watching the light glint off the silver before plunging the blade into Snow’s side, his shout of pain like music to Luka’s ears.

“You said you would end this shit!”

“I did, but I didn’t say I would end it now.” Luka gripped Snow’s face. “She suffered in a way that I wish I didn’t remember. I sat in a room with her for three days as she came down from whatever the f*ck it was you gave her, and then watched as she sweated the shit out of her system. I watched her break, over and over again, helpless to stop it—and Snow, I hate being f*cking helpless. Sadly, I can’t keep you here for three days as I wanted to—I got shit to do. But for the next three hours, I’m going to make you feel a fraction of what she felt during those three days. You understand, right? This is just business.”

“What the f*ck do you care about some stupid bitch!” he shouted back at him, a desperate cry from a desperate man.

Luka shoved him away. “Because she’s mine. And I’m a little overprotective of what’s f*cking mine.”

Walking over to the speakers that were set up in a corner of the room, he plugged in the iPod sitting there, laughing when Snow started screaming bloody murder. Even if someone were to hear him, no one would report it. Not in this neighborhood and especially because it came from this building. When he found a song he liked, he set it on repeat, then turned back to Snow.

He would enjoy this, far more than he should.

The first cut along the man’s skin sent euphoria through him. He was careful, making sure to only inflict the necessary amount of pain, not wanting to go overboard too soon, but one minute he was there in the room, doing what needed to be done, and the next, he was carving into a man’s back with a heated blade. This was what he knew, the only thing he was really good at. Luka wasn’t particularly proud of this fact but dealing out this kind of retribution worked for him.

He didn’t know how long he’d stood there, stripping flesh from the man’s back—Snow long since passing out from the pain—before the steel doors at the back of the room opened, and they were no longer alone in the room.

“Some things never change.”

That voice.

Luka held the blade in hand, turning slowly, wiping his forearm across his face to wipe the blood off, but only managing to smear it further.

The man, standing at the back of the warehouse, wearing the same manic grin that Luka often wore, stepped into a patch of light, the stark color making the gauntness of his face stand out more.

For a moment, he just stared, letting the reality of this ground him.

“Hello again, Valon."





PART THREE





My demons,

Though quiet,

Are never quite silenced.





Calm as they may be,