Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)(5)

He had a very familiar face.

At only thirty-eight, Bastian had made a name for himself, claiming enough territory for himself through money and bloodshed that he had become a rather untouchable figure.

Even seated, Bastian was a rather heavy-set man with a large head and a prominent brow. His hands were large and meaty, his fingers currently gripping the strands of a woman’s dull brown hair, her face hidden in his lap.

At their entrance, his gaze shot over to them, his eyes narrowing on Valon for several moments before grunting out a command to the girl on her knees, and she was just that. A girl. Barely as old as Valon.

She pulled away from him, wiping her mouth with the back of her forearm, sparing Valon a single glance as she hurried out of the room. Bastian tucked himself back into his pants, not ashamed at all that Valon had just witnessed him with that girl.

“Ahmeti’s boy, no?”

Not knowing whether that was a question or a statement, Valon remained silent.

His eyes narrowing on him, Bastian asked, “Why are you here?”

How could he explain that he’d watched his father murder his mother then take his own life? And furthermore, would he even care? It wasn’t as if he and Ahmeti were on the best of terms, and now that he was there, Valon was beginning to regret his decision, but he doubted he would just be able to walk out again.

Bastian laughed. “Do you speak?”

“I have lost my mother,” Valon said softly though he’d intended to keep his voice firm.

“And you thought what? That you could come to me for help? That I offer charity?”

Valon was realizing very quickly that it was not going to be as easy as he expected. “I can clean—”

“Clean? I have maids for that. Cooking? Plenty of women. What can you offer me that I don’t already have?”

The silence stretched between them as Valon tried to think of a response, anything that would help him. He drew a blank, knowing he didn’t have anything nor was he of any value.

Bastian spared him. “The answer you’re looking for is whatever I want…”

Even with his limited knowledge, Valon knew that the possibilities that that statement entailed were endless, but even as dread filled his heart, he had no choice but to nod.

A part of him knew he’d just signed his life away.

Another part of him hoped that it would be worth it.

____

Some time had passed since Bastian had sent Valon away, having Gjarper take him to a place he referred to as ‘the kennels.’ Valon didn’t know what to think of this place, at least until he was walked outside and through the heavily wooded area behind the house to a rather mundane looking barn. The closer they came, the more the sound of barking became clearer.

Valon, almost belatedly, realized that the name was more than appropriate for the place he was going.

The Kennels were located in a rust-colored barn, the peeling paint and vine covered exterior, giving it a rather decrepit appearance. Inside, located on either side, were rows of cages, and toward the back was a large fenced-in space, a space currently filled with at least a dozen dogs, all fighting for scraps of meat. Most of them were fairly large, each with teeth nearly the size of Valon’s fingers.

His hands trembled as his gaze focused on them, and prayed that the ‘whatever’ Bastian wanted wasn’t dog food. However, before Valon could entertain that thought further, Gjarper went to a cage on the right hand side of the biggest cage. He pulled out a key ring, rifling through the keys until he found the one he sought and stuck it into the padlock hanging on the outside of it.

Once he had it unlocked and unhooked, he yanked the gate open, turning to face Valon as he jerked his head in the direction of the cage, letting him know he was meant to go in.

“No arguing, kid. Get in.”

With no other choice, Valon did what he was told. There wasn’t much room for him to stand, so he had to sit on the dirt, his back against the cold metal as Gjarper slammed the gate closed, locking it back. Without looking back, he closed the barn doors behind him.

Valon didn’t doubt that those were locked now as well.

He was left shrouded in darkness. The dogs’ growls were the only noise being made besides their paws as they drew closer to him. He could practically smell the aggression on them, and with the sweat beading on his brow and the erratic rhythm of his heart, he knew they smelled the fear on him.

For hours, he was left alone there, listening to the dogs, nearly jumping out of his skin whenever they lunged at the fencing at his side that kept them separated from him. He couldn’t see them well in the darkness—even when he tried to make them out, there was nothing but shadows—so he continued to stare forward, trying to distance himself from where he was.

It was easier when there was the growling and snapping of teeth, but once they quieted—perhaps due to Valon’s calming heartbeat—the silence was worse.

Because with that, he could better hear the voices in his head, see the memory of his mother that was already plaguing him. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though that would be able to better help him. He could still see her face in his mind’s eye, the shock, the fear, the acceptance that she knew she was about to die.

And yet, despite how her death played again and again in his head, tears didn’t form. He wanted to cry—not because he was weak, but because he knew he would feel better—yet they never came.