Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)(14)

And Bastian was definitely never in attendance.

Valon had counted on this, knowing that Bastian would never allow him to keep the three, if only because he didn’t want him to have anything that would make him remotely happy. There was a chance he might have let them stay, but he would have bred them to fight, instead of being coddled, and if they didn’t perform well, they would be put down.

“What is this?” Bastian spat out, looking from Valon to Loki and the others.

Valon did well to hide his surprise, sitting up. He ignored the pain, a feat he’d learned. Loki’s ears perked up as he went on alert, baring his teeth the closer they came. Volk and Timber didn’t seem to notice the danger he was in.

Gjarper stood off to the side, ever silent, ever watchful, but unlike the others, he didn’t look surprised to see the dogs, making Valon wonder if he had always known.

“You cost me money every time you enter the Pit and lay on your back. Now you’re costing me money by feeding your pets?” The rage in his face was clear, but more was the sadistic gleam in his eyes. “Grab them.”

“No!”

But the moment he was on his feet, ready to fight for them, two of Bastian’s guard grabbed him, holding him in place as the others grabbed the smaller dogs. Only, when one of them made to snatch Loki, he snapped back, crouching low as though prepared to attack. He had grown bigger than both Timber and Volk, and his size intimidated the men.

Bastian pulled a blade from his coat, wrenching Timber from the man’s hand, who struggled in his hold. Volk, however, seeming to realize what was happening, bit the man’s hand that was holding him. He scrambled to his feet, trying to run away, but the man brandished a small revolver, aiming it at him. Before Valon could even voice a protest, he shot Volk twice, dropping to the ground, blood already seeping from his fur.

“Wai—”

But it was too late. Bastian’s knife had already cut through Timber neck. He dropped him to the ground, uncaring that a line of blood was slowly seeping across the dirt toward Valon.

The anguish he felt at the sight of them wounded Valon in a way that he couldn’t describe. He had stopped caring about things since his n?n?’s murder, but he had allowed these creatures to become a part of him. He learned what it was like to feel again. And now that two of them were gone, he felt that void opening up inside of him…one he was afraid to look into.

There was only Loki left and Valon couldn’t—wouldn’t watch him die.

“Whatever you want,” he said desperately. “You want me to win a fight, I’ll do it. Or anything.”

Only two people in that room knew exactly what Valon was truly offering, what those precious words meant. And while he had meant what he said, Valon didn’t dare look to Gjarper to see his reaction, knowing there would be shame there. But there was nothing more to offer a man who had everything he could possibly want…except for something he had previously tried to take.

The silence had stretched between them before Gjarper broke it. “If the boy fights tonight, and wins, then we stand to make a large profit if we bet on him.”

“Look at him,” one of the others sneered. “He can’t fight in this condition. They’d kill him in minutes.”

Valon didn’t respond to the criticism. To some, Loki might have meant nothing. But at this moment, Valon would give anything to save his only friend, even if it meant offering up a piece of himself.

Bastian considered the man’s words, studying Valon with dark eyes. “You fight. You win. If you lose, it dies, and I kill you myself.”

He waved the others away, and they followed behind him as they all left the barn. “Get him ready,” he called over his shoulder. “He fights within the hour.”

Only when they were out of sight and Gjarper was the only one left to see it did Valon wince, wrapping an arm around his middle as though that might help the pain he was in. After fighting for so long, he knew what certain injuries felt like, and he knew that tonight he would be fighting with sore ribs and a well-placed hit might actually break one of them.

But he had no choice.

He wasn’t just fighting for himself.

Loki crept forward, sniffing around his dead companions, whining as he nudged them, wanting to get up again.

“I’m sorry.”

There was no need to apologize. It wasn’t as though Loki could understand him anyway, but Valon felt the need to do so because he was sorry.

Sorry he couldn’t help save them.

Sorry he couldn’t help save himself.

But maybe, and he was hoping, he would get them through the night.

“You need to prepare,” Gjarper said from his position by the doors.

But for the time being, Valon ignored him, going over to a corner in the back of the barn, getting down on his knees before digging his fingers into the dirt. The dirt was hard already, made even harder due to the elements, but Valon didn’t stop his process as he dug the first hole, shredding his fingers in the process. When he finished the first, he immediately started the second, and only when the two were done, he carried Timber and Volk over one by one, laying them inside before covering them up.

“You are as dumb as you look,” Gjarper said once he returned, seeing the condition Valon’s hands were in.

Shrugging, Valon didn’t offer a response as he followed Gjarper back out, heading to the room where Gjarper usually readied him. Inside, Gjarper removed his tools from the box he kept them in.