Reap (Scarred Souls, #2)(62)

Breathe, breathe, I told myself, but I couldn’t breathe. Releasing Talia’s hand, my fists clenched at my sides.

It couldn’t be. She can’t be. No!

I remembered waking in the basement. I was trapped in darkness, I was held in chains. Captured. Left to die.

I shook my head as pain and rage filled my muscles. The name on Talia’s pendent pierced my mind. With each and every stab, the fire burned and burned. They’d exiled my family. They were the reason Jakhua turned on my father, the reason my family had died.

Papa’s voice sounded in my head, “Who will you destroy?”

“The Volkovs, Tolstois, and Durovs.”

Tolstoi.

No longer able to rein in my fury, a roar ripped from my throat. I lurched my body over Talia. She’d lied. She’d deceived me. I wasn’t free.… I was a f*cking captive of the Tolstois!

Talia’s brown eyes snapped open in shock. I gripped both of her wrists, lifting them above her head. She gasped as she tried to move, the blood rushing from her face. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t move.

Her frightened brown eyes met mine. “Zaal, what? What’s wrong?”

She pulled on her arms, trying to break free, but I snarled and hissed, “Tolstoi…” Venom and hatred fueled my anger.

Talia’s face turned even whiter and her eyes grew impossibly wide. Her bottom lip began to tremble and her hands began to shake. “Zaal … please,” she begged. Her plea, for a moment, made me flinch. I hated when she was sad.

Tolstoi! My mind pushed. Anger regained its hold.

“Tolstoi,” I growled threateningly.

She shook her head. “Zaal.”

“Fucking Tolstois!” I roared. “The enemy!” Talia flinched and cowered underneath my body. “You’re the f*cking enemy!” I thundered, but Talia only cried more.

“No!” she whispered brokenly. “Don’t.”

Klavs, klavs, klavs, sasaklao, I heard in my mind.

I should have killed her. I was a Kostava. Tolstois should die under my hand. But I couldn’t. It was Talia.

Wrenching back, I pushed off the bed. My hands gripped the side of my skull. The pain was too much, grief consuming my heart.

“Zaal!” Talia cried and scurried to the end of the bed. I whipped my head to face her. Her face was red and blotted from crying. She stared at me, and my heart ached. It was Talia. My Talia.

But she was a f*cking Tolstoi!

With shaking arms, she held out her hand. “Please,” she begged, “take it … trust me … let me explain.”

I stared at her hand. But all I could see was Papa giving me and Anri our necklaces, telling us to avenge the family. The guards pointing rifles, gunshots, blood … Zoya … Zoya’s dark eyes begging me to help. But I couldn’t … I couldn’t save her.…

New images invaded my brain. A narrow cold bed, Jakhua’s cold smirk, his laughter, needles, pain from being sliced open. Anri screaming beside me. Chains, beatings. More needles, more pain. Then darkness, anger, nothing but red-hot anger, and the constant craving to kill.

Body shaking, my neck corded and bulged with tension. My teeth gritted. I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood on my palm. I screamed to the sky and ran out of Talia Tolstaia’s room.

I thundered toward the stairs. Tolstoi guards were running to meet me, guns held high. Roaring at the memory of guards firing on my family, I charged. They were nothing to me. I plowed my fist into a guard’s face. Lifting him in my hands, I raised my knee, thrust him down, and snapped his back.

Another guard fired at me; the bullet hit the wall. But the sound of that bullet incensed me, ripping me straight back into the past. Reaching out over the narrow staircase, I gripped the guard’s neck, and slammed my head against his. The guard faltered, collapsing on impact. I placed my hands around his neck and twisted. It snapped, and I threw his lifeless body on the floor.

I raced down the stairs. I had to escape this hell. When I rounded the corner at the bottom of the staircase, I saw the outside door. Pushing forward, I made for the exit.

As I passed through the living room, movement to my left caught my eye. Him. Luka. 818. A motherf*cking Tolstoi! He stared at me, chest bared, only sweatpants covering his legs, just like me. I lowered my head. Anger wrapped around me, surrounding me with fury.

“Zaal,” Luka said coldly, “calm the f*ck down.”

I rolled my neck from side to side as I watched Luka brace to fight. I curled my lip in disgust. I began pacing, back and forth, back and forth.

“Zaal—”

“Tolstoi!” I thundered, watching Luka’s face. “You are a f*cking Tolstoi!”

Luka’s jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. “I am like you,” he said in a deathly tone. “I was taken from my family, too. I fought to survive. Killed night after night until I could break free.” He stepped forward, the movement irritating me. “I fought with your brother, alongside him. I fought with Anri, he was my best friend, my brother.”

He was my best friend, my brother.…

I convulsed with even greater fury as those words ignited in me. “No,” I growled, “you are a f*cking Tolstoi. You are the enemy. An enemy I swore to my father to destroy!”

“Anri was my friend, not an enemy! Family means nothing in the cage!” Luka bellowed back.