Reap (Scarred Souls, #2) by Tillie Cole
Dedication
To music for the constant inspiration.
To Johnnyswim for inspiring this novel.
“You and I, we’re fire and water …
We’re rain and thunder…”
“You and I” by Johnnyswim
Prologue
221
Poison.
Pain.
Burning.
Unbearable f*cking burning.
Rapids of lava raced through my veins.
My skin … my skin was too hot … too tight around my flesh …
I panted with anger … so much f*cking anger to keep inside … stabbing at my brain, driving me insane …
Rip someone apart, I snarled in my head, break bones, tear flesh … feel wet blood on my hands.
I paced, my heavy iron chains wrapping around my wrists and ankles. I needed to kill. I needed to get out from under these chains.
Must kill to stop the poison.
Must kill to stop the pain inside.
“You’re back in New York?” a voice suddenly spoke from across the room. “The Georgians have finally made their great return?”
“We have. And it’s been a long time coming. We have business to settle. Business from long ago,” Master spoke, and my heart began to pound. Listen to Master. Listen to Master’s commands.
Footsteps clicked on the cold hard floor. The man was approaching Master. I paced faster.
“With the Volkovs?” the other voice asked. “Because if it is, a lot has happened in forty years. They’re untouchable. Too strong.”
Master laughed. “We’ve returned stronger.”
“Do they know you’re here?”
Master paused, then replied, “They’ll find out soon enough. We’re not hiding from the red scum.”
Master turned to me, bringing a man with him. My muscles tensed and I snarled as they came close … too close.
“What the—”
“We’ve mastered a new drug. Proven to secure one hundred percent obedience in any subject. No other can offer this to you, Nasar. The Italians won’t have seen anything like it. Your business will surpass theirs when your girls can bend to a buyer’s every whim.”
Master’s voice stabbed at my ears. I always heard Master, my body tensing as I waited for his command. I kept my eyes to the dark wet ground as Master ordered, never making eye contact. He told me I was a dog, a killer. He told me I was his slave.
Searing heat enveloped my flesh; the white-hot pain in my head surged through my body. Shaking, I tensed before screaming out the pain. Fury took its hold.
Every muscle in my body was twitching, itching, on fire, thirsting to deliver death. My chains rattled louder as my hands clenched into fists, imagining the slaughter of an opponent, testing the strength of the heavy cuffs around my wrists.
The feet from Master came closer still. I paced faster. My heart pumped louder. I hissed loudly through clenched teeth.
Klavs, klavs, klavs—kill, kill, kill—I needed to kill.
I inhaled a long breath as the strange man approached. I snarled and bared my teeth, warning him to stay the f*ck away from me.
He stepped back. I could smell fear on the f*cker.
Fear.
Fear stank. Fear reeked. I hated it. Fucking hated it.
Klavs, klavs, klavs …
The poison in my blood boiled hotter still, my veins screaming at the pain of the scalding venom. I pulled on the chains around my hands, seeking release from the torment the poison brought. Muscles tensing, neck stiffening, and back stretching, I roared a deafening roar and increased the speed of my pacing.
Back and forth … back and forth … back and forth …
The man’s feet stepped forward and began to circle me, his sweat dropping on the cracked ground of the cellar. “You have managed to control this one? He seems feral.”
Master stepped forward; he came close, my body stiffening. He slapped his hand on my arm. “221 is my prized possession, my prototype, my dzaghii—my dog. He obeys anything I ask of him. Anything. He’s had a concentrated shot of the Type A drug this morning. Type A drug creates killers on demand, Type B, perfectly obedient slaves; slaves who will do anything you want.” Master’s voice lit with excitement. “221, here, kills with perfect efficiency. Complete annihilation.”
The feet of the man stopped, stood beside me, and I could hear his heartbeat race. “Prove it,” he said quietly.
Master laughed. “You brought the men?”
“They’re here,” the other man replied. “Bring them in!” he shouted, a command to someone at the entrance to the cellar.
He moved to stand beside Master. “I need trustworthy men by my side. Our war with the Italians is heating up. I need men who won’t question anything asked of them. Men who can’t be beat in a fight. I also want my stock to be obedient. I want them open to anything a buyer wants. If this drug you’ve created and its subject prove to be true, we have a deal.”
Master stepped away. A guard approached me and began to loosen the chains. My feet rocked from side to side as the chains dropped to the ground. Looking at my hands, I slowly clenched them into fists, the cracking of my knuckles echoing around the room.
Heavy breathing came from behind me. My lip curled … weakness …