Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)(13)

He deposited them onto the floor as he reached for his tattered book bag, scrounging through it for what little food he had hoarded over the last two weeks. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to start.

Smelling his offering, they nearly tripped over each other trying to get to him, and as they each took a bite of what he offered from his hand, Valon didn’t fight the smile forming.

This was the closest to happiness he had felt in a while.

____

“Nope, eyes on me.”

Valon stood tall, his hands outstretched, making sure that his new companions were watching his every move. Training them to follow his commands had been surprisingly easy in the last two weeks that he’d had them, but that might have just been because he had a lot of time on his hands.

When he wasn’t fighting, he was left to his own devices until Gjarper came to him for training. During those visits, he would hide the three of them away. There was no rule that he could not keep them, but Bastian was growing more frustrated with his lack of effort in the Pit, and his agitation was beginning to show. Valon didn’t want to risk anything happening to them should Bastian happen upon them.

No one had yet to learn his secret, and he hoped to keep it that way. He hoped that he’d train them long enough that by the time anyone noticed, they would be as big as the others.

Timber and Rusk, the two German Shepherds, had taken a while to catch on to Valon’s commands, but that was because the pair had a tendency to fight amongst each other whenever the mood struck, but they were fun, and often tried to bring Valon into their battles—which was mostly him on his back and them climbing over him.

Loki, aptly named after one of Valon’s favorite villains, was far easier to control, and since the moment Valon had started feeding and taking care of him, Valon found that he was far more affectionate than he looked. At night, when the sky was dark, and they lay in the dirt, Loki always rested his head on Valon’s thigh, never moving until the morning when they were all back again.

Valon didn’t mean to have a favorite—they were dogs, after all—but if he had to pick one who he loved a little more than the rest, it would be Loki. When Valon spoke, Loki listened and did as he was told with little hesitation.

Before he could continue his lesson for the day, Valon heard footsteps approaching, probably their first meal of the day. He snapped his fingers twice, almost smiling when the three moved toward the back of their little area, out of sight for the most part.

He stood, heading for the gate, intending to intercept Strom as he came through the barn doors, holding three bags worth of food, two of which belonged to Valon. Gjarper had talked Bastian into feeding him more. If only so he could put on more weight and have that help him in the Pit. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t working. He had managed to put on at least two stone, changing his boyish, lanky frame to something bigger. He was even performing better when he trained with Gjarper. That was the thing. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight. It was that he didn’t want to.

He’d seen what blood sport had done to his father, and how it had warped him as a man. That fear plagued him constantly.

The last thing he wanted to turn into was Ahmeti.

When Strom crossed the threshold, grinning mischievously, Valon knew that this was not going to end well. Some people, such as Strom, liked to try their luck up until the very moment when it ran out. Valon had always held his tongue, refusing to speak out of turn for fear of what might happen, but he was tired of being afraid.

It was time he set an example, even if it were just a small one because, in the end, he still didn’t want to attract attention to himself.

“Looks like there’s good food,” Strom said shaking the bag, holding it out in front of him.

It was clear that he intended to throw it to the dogs and leave Valon to fend for himself, but faster than he could react, Valon grabbed the front of his shirt through a hole in the fence, dragging him across until he was flush against the metal. It only took a second, but a second was all he needed to see the one thing that he hadn’t ever seen a day in his life.

Fear.

Someone was actually afraid of him.

He hadn’t been sure why at first. It wasn’t like he was actively attacking the man, but it took him a moment to realize that Strom was struggling to get free. Yet Valon was holding him as easily as he held one of the dogs back.

This small taste of power made him smile, just the slightest curving of his lips, but when he did, Strom froze. Valon didn’t understand why this was, how his initial need to get free had morphed into this.

But he wasn’t going to argue the point, not when he could get what he wanted.

“Drop the bags.”

Strom did without question, and when Valon unclenched his fist, releasing the now wrinkled fabric of his shirt, Strom scurried back, nearly tripping over his feet to get out of there. He had seemingly forgotten his main objective of feeding the dogs in his haste to get back to the house, but having already brought more attention to himself than he’d intended, Valon watched him go, waiting until he was outside before he grabbed the first bag of food to disperse.

____

Despite working with Gjarper and the practice he did on his own, Valon still wasn’t winning in the Pit. Bastian seemed pleased in the beginning that he was getting the shit beat out of him every night, but now, he only seemed to grow more annoyed.

It was only a week and a half later, after Valon had lost yet another fight. He was recovering in the kennels, his new companions resting next to him. It wasn’t common for anyone to come down to where he stayed and never in the middle of the night.