Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)(25)

Truthfully, he didn’t even want her to die. That would only upset Valon.

Plus, he wanted her to see exactly what he had done to her.

When there was nothing left, he tossed the bottle, pushing his way off her, but he didn’t leave. No, he remained, enjoying the way she writhed on the bed, using her hands to try to wipe off the liquid as though that would help.

Feeling a moment of compassion, if he were to call it that, Fatos headed for the bathroom, filling a bucket with water before exiting and throwing it on her face. She choked and gagged, now crying quite loudly, a fact that annoyed him.

He filled it once more and repeated the process before dropping the bucket on the floor and watching it roll over to a corner.

Tugging off the gloves he’d worn to protect his own skin, he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up.

Fatos shook his head at the sight of her before walking to the door. “Whores need to learn their place. Valon doesn’t need you destroying everything he’s built for himself.”

Two of Bastian’s men came running to the door, undoubtedly drawn by her screams, and when they caught sight of her, their eyes widened in horror, and when they looked to him, there was fear there.

Not fear of him, he soon realized, but fear for him.

Did they truly think that Valon would hurt him over some whore?

Then they were as dumb as they looked. He wouldn’t choose someone like her over him. Their friendship went back years, and there was no one, not now or in the future, who Valon would ever put above him.

“Get her cleaned up and clean up the mess.”

To anyone else, they might not have had to follow his request, but because of who he was, or because of who his father was, they rushed to obey.

As he left the room, Fatos felt rejuvenated, better than he had over the last couple of weeks since that girl had arrived. The food chain had finally been corrected, and now everything was back in its proper order.





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12




Valon used to draw out the fights, make his opponents believe they had a chance at beating him, but with the thought of Elena waiting back for him in his room, he was eager to get this over with.

With a kick to the sternum, he sent the unfortunate man who was in the ring with him to the floor, walking over him without looking back. The crowd wasn’t as keen on him leaving the way he was, especially since he hadn’t drawn as much blood as he normally did. They didn’t care that the man was unconscious on the ground; it was about the show for him.

Over his last few fights, Bastian had shown his displeasure with the way Valon was fighting, but he had never vocalized it. Tonight, however, Bastian was back to his usual self, though there was a calculated gleam in his eye that bothered him, but instead of paying it any mind, Valon waited for his nod of approval before leaving the ring.

Walking the short distance back to the house, Valon swiped a hand over his shaved head, his muscles aching at the movement. As he got closer, he frowned seeing Loki sitting outside, his ears perking up as he noticed Valon’s approach. Even during the rare times that Loki was waiting for him, his tail always thumped wildly, but tonight he whined and even when Valon rubbed his head, he still made the noise.

“Let’s go.”

Entering the house, Valon couldn’t help but notice the startling odor that permeated the air. Everything was quite the same day in and day out in this place, so whenever there was something different, no matter how small that change was, he noticed it.

The house was quiet, a little too quiet, but this was usually the case when he had a big fight. Most came out to watch or bet on him. Surprisingly, however, Strom wasn’t sitting at the table watching television as he usually did.

Putting it out of his mind, Valon turned the corner and ran into Fatos. He was one of the few who never seemed bothered by the sight of the blood covering him. Sometimes he wondered if they shared the same sickness for brutality.

With a chin nod in his direction, Valon moved to walk around him but came up short when Fatos blocked his path.

“What do you want?”

“Have you no time for me anymore?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together as he regarded Valon.

An emotion was in his eye that Valon couldn’t quite read. Maybe on another day, he would have cared to find out what it was, but tonight he was busy.

“I’m busy, Fatos.”

Just over his shoulder, he could see men walking out of his room, and when they caught sight of him at the end of the hall, they paled and hurried off, but not before he noticed the sheets and towels they carried, one stained red.

“Where’s Elena?” Valon asked Fatos, and his tone was anything but playful despite the fact that Fatos was now smiling at him, an expression that did nothing to quell the anxiety Valon felt.

“Don’t worry,” he said placing a hand on his shoulder. “I made sure she understood.”

Valon didn’t think before he had his hand around Fatos’ throat and shoved him back against the wall with enough force that his head bounced against it. “What the f*ck are you talking about?”

“She was trying to distract you from what’s important. I—”

His heart beat just a little faster as he looked from Fatos to his door, and then squeezed his eyes shut as his hand tightened reflexively. “Fatos, what did you do?”