Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)(30)

Considering Valon had learned how to speak better English in a few years than Strom did after more than thirty, he really needed to do better, but that might have just been because Valon had wanted more for himself after Elena had gone.

It hadn’t taken long before everything was forgiven and things had gone back to normal. When police didn’t show up for those first six months, they’d figured that she was smart enough to just disappear.

In three years, Valon had learned how to drive—though he wouldn’t say he was particularly great at it—and read any book that he could get his hands on. He could be a slave, but at least he would be a smart one.

“He won’t know what hit him!” Fatos exclaimed on a laugh, again looking at Valon as though he would find some kind of camaraderie. There was none.

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

____

Quiet and observing, Valon leaned back against the wall of the van, his ski mask shoved up to bunch at his hairline. The others had been excited about what was going to happen tonight. They were too eager, which meant that they would be prone to making mistakes.

Valon didn’t feel such things.

He didn’t relish in the pain he was going to inflict by the night’s end. He was resigned to it. He definitely felt for the poor bastard who was going to get taken tonight.

They were heading out of Brooklyn, toward the location where the Russian was supposed to be for the night, but before they had gotten far, Strom suddenly exclaimed from the front seat, “There he is!”

Since there were no windows in the back of the van, Valon didn’t know whether this was true or if Strom was just an idiot. If he had to wager, he’d bet on the second.

“Are you sure?” Fatos asked, already reaching to tug down his mask.

“It is, but there is the girl with him.”

Shit. There wasn’t supposed to be any witnesses. If—

“We’ll bring her, too,” Fatos said. “Circle the block so he doesn’t get suspicious.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Valon asked as Strom follow his instruction. “The girl wasn’t part of the plan.”

“If you get squeamish, then I’ll take care of it.”

Fatos laughed as if he was joking, but they both knew he was serious.

Strom suddenly sped up then hit the brakes hard, shouting, “Go!”

Fatos shoved the side door open, jumping out, Valon quickly following behind.

Valon only caught sight of the boy’s face for a second, the shock and fear clear for anyone to see, before he was shoving the girl in the opposite direction and yelling, “Run!”

That struck Valon as odd, not that he was trying to protect the girl, but because he lacked the distinct Russian accent that he was supposed to have. He sounded…well…American.

When Fatos rushed him, the Russian cocked his fist back and let it fly, nailing him in the face that had Fatos cursing him as he stumbled backward. The girl was running, screaming down the street, but Strom was rushing after her, his big body slowing him down.

Valon just waited, watching the fighting. Fatos had recovered quick enough, charging at the boy, sending them both to the ground. They were grappling on the snow-slick concrete, trying to dominate each other, but they were evenly matched.

Strom had finally snagged the girl, restraining her as she struggled.

“Niklaus!”

Valon wasn’t sure whom she was calling for—no one there went by that name—but suddenly the boy looked in her direction, all the fight leaving him. Valon could see the moment when he was going to get away from Fatos to get to her, but he stopped it before he could even move.

With one well-calculated hit to his face, Valon knocked him off balance, watching as he hit the ground, his head hitting harder. But he was still conscious, still fighting to go toward the girl.

Valon admired his tenacity, his resilience.

But they were out of time.

Kicking him in the face, this time he made sure he was out.

Fatos was still struggling to his feet as Valon hauled the boy up, practically carrying him over to the van. The girl was still screaming, though the piece of cloth that Strom had stuffed into her mouth muffled the sound.

Reclaiming his feet, Valon stretched out his legs, folding his arms across his chest. Fatos glared at him, and Valon didn’t pretend not to understand why that was. He was jealous of what he was capable of, but Valon wasn’t going to apologize for being better than he was. Not ever again.

With their two prey in the van, Valon looked at Strom. “Let’s go.”

The address Jetmir had given them led to a large industrial warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Nothing was located in immediate vicinity of the place, so whatever happened inside was unlikely to be heard.

The perfect place for misery and death.





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15




Standing back away from the others, Valon watched every single person in the room. Sometimes, especially during moments like these, he hated that he saw so much. Just a flicker of emotion in a person’s eyes always gave away their true feelings. And one thing that he had read on every last one of them was just how much they had enjoyed taunting the girl as soon as she woke up.

Valon hadn’t felt moved either way. If she wanted to lie in bed with a mobster, then there were risks that came with that, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy what he was going to have to do to her.