Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)(33)

Without a word to anyone, Jetmir tossed the water on the boy, stepping back when he lurched awake, his gaze shooting around the room. When he realized not much had changed, his entire body slumped with defeat.

“Your time is up,” Jetmir announced as he tossed the bucket to a corner.

Valon became all too aware that something big was about to happen as Fatos and Strom finally entered the room. Fatos was carrying a can of gasoline. The boy noticed this next as his eyes widened in fear.

Jetmir gripped the boy’s hair, forcing his head up so that he had a clear, unobstructed view of the girl, and then motioned for Fatos to come and take his place.

Valon knew what he saw once he had a good look at his lover, especially since during a good amount of what she had suffered, he’d been passed out. How, if he showed such weakness as he gazed at her, could he not tell them what they wanted to know, if only to spare her?

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled, shaking her head as a tear fell down her swollen and bruised face.

“I have given you ample opportunity—more than, if we are being honest—but you have continued to defy me. To what end, only you know.” With Fatos now holding the boy secure, Jetmir crossed the room. “What more must be done before you break?”

Jetmir pulled a black lighter from his pocket, the pad of his thumb drifting over the onyx casing and the engraving that Valon was too far away to see what it actually was. Each time Jetmir flipped the top back, the flame igniting, flickering in the darkness of the room, a sliver of anxiety slid down Valon’s spine.

This…this was not going to end well.

“Tell me what I want to know,” Jetmir said, all traces of anger gone from his voice as he made the same request from the first day.

The boy, who seemed to detect the very thing that Valon did, sat up straighter, shaking his head once more. “I’m not who you’re looking for. I don’t even know what it is you even want!”

Sighing, as though the boy had once again disappointed him, Jetmir grabbed the red, plastic container from the floor, walking the short distance to her. Whistling as he unscrewed the cap, he dumped the contents onto her head, laughing as the liquid soaked her hair and washed away the traces of red on her thighs in seconds.

Whatever spell had kept her quiet up until this point wore off as she struggled, coughing behind the gag that was stuffed in her mouth.

When the acrid scent of gasoline hit him, the boy began begging in earnest. “Please…I’m not who you think I am. I live in Florida. I work construction! Whatever you want! Money? I can get it for you! Anything. Just please, let her go.”

Jetmir ripped the gag free from the girl’s mouth, her sobs now loud enough for them all to hear. Valon, not even realizing it, took several steps back, until his hands curled around the banister, the wood unrelenting under his grip.

Again, he held up that lighter, the flame dancing and sparking, as if it too was anticipating the moment of contact.

“One last chance.”

The couple met each other’s eyes, their helplessness clear. And for just a moment, Valon could see it in her eyes, the moment when she knew she was about to die, and instead of fear, there was acceptance. Valon flinched, feeling like he had intruded on a moment he was not meant to witness. He wanted to turn away, to not scar himself further by witnessing this, but it was as if he was glued to the present.

He had to know and accept what he had caused.

Her lips were moving like she was trying to say something, but she never got the opportunity.

“Please…”

The word had barely passed the boy’s lips when Jetmir stepped away and tossed the lighter. As it clattered to the floor, it was barely a second later before the gas ignited and the girl was consumed.

She screamed as the flames licked at her skin…

He screamed as he watched the girl he loved burn to death…

And Valon watched it all, dying a little inside.

He had to get out.

He had to get out.

He had to get out.

Before it consumed him, too.





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17




For the last six hours, Valon had sat alone in a dark corner of the building, listening to the one they had thought was the Volkov boy sob. While he usually took pleasure in the sounds of others’ suffering, especially if they were in the ring with him, this was…this felt wrong—not to mention the fact that a girl had been burned alive mere feet away from where he stood. Despite the amount of time that had passed, he could still smell her burning flesh, and even the charred scent of the rest of her, and could still hear the echoes of her screams.

Valon had a decision to make.

Something dark inside of him had festered, true, but even that had been hard for him to watch.

After lighting her up, Jetmir had placed the blindfold back on the boy, walking away from it all without a glimmer of regret.

The others still doubted the words this—what did he say his name was?—boy spouted, but there was no Vor that Valon knew who could withstand this amount of torture and not talk. For what? He was going to die anyway. He seemed to know this, so what more did he have to hide?

Carefully, Valon got to his feet, walking the short distance between them until he was at the boy’s side, staring down at him. The boy knew he was there, could see it in the way his shoulders went tight with fear, but he didn’t beg. He had stopped pleading with them ages ago. It had been Valon’s job to break him, to make him tell what he knew, but he had failed in that regard. Except, Jetmir had failed as well because, despite the gruesome act he had performed, the boy still hadn’t broke.