Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
“Kovacs?” My name sounded like it was heaved through gravel, pulling at my bones, marking them with every syllable. “Kovacs!”
The anger and desperation punched through my chest, stirring desperation in my muscles to find the owner of the voice.
My mouth wouldn’t move, my feet wouldn’t budge, and pure blackness surrounded me. I tried to writhe against the invisible restraints.
“I’m here!” My mind screamed, but nothing made it out.
“Fucking answer me, Kovacs.”
Thrashing and fighting, panic bubbled up, as the more I fought, the tighter I felt locked in place.
“Ko-vacs.” My name was growing distant, like he was leaving.
“No! I’m right here!” I tried to yell. Not a sound came off my tongue.
“Brexley . . .” The name was more a whisper, only a thread left, my last chance.
A sob wracked my chest, my body still trying to fight. Something clamped down on my leg, snapping my attention down, horror freezing the air in my lungs.
Dozens of bony fingers wrapped around my ankles. Skeletons from every direction clamored for me, clawing and grabbing, yanking themselves from dirt graves, trying to pull me down with them.
A chilling scream tore up from my gut.
With a gasp, I bolted up, fear dancing over my shoulders and shooting down my spine. Sweat dampened my forehead and back, my chest heaving.
My gaze darted around the compact room. The fire bulb above my head allowed me to search every corner, the anxiety from the dream still coating me.
Memories quickly filed back in order, my brain registering where I was.
Povstat.
I was in Prague. Inside my Uncle Mykel’s rebel base.
Taking slow breaths, I tried to calm my racing heart. Chills ebbed from the back of my neck while the feeling of the dream sat heavy in my stomach.
I glanced at a clock on the wall, which read 4:12 a.m.
Blowing out the breath I’d been holding, I fell back on my pillow. I was still tired, but my mind raced wildly, and I knew there was no way I would fall back to sleep.
I shifted with a groan, a light headache clinging to me.
Ruffling through the clothes left for me, I grabbed what I needed, along with the bathroom kit, and moved to the lavatory.
The showers and toilets were private, the tile and counters clean.
It didn’t smell like chlorine and shit like Halálház, though any bathroom with no windows or air filter system always had a heavy smell of mold coming from the walls and water trapped in pockets in the drain.
I had lived most of my life with a bathroom that could rival noble palaces, but this was becoming my norm, more familiar than a fancy palace.
A few early risers were getting ready for the day, the communal bathroom still quiet. Quickly showering and dressing, I pulled my wet hair up in a ponytail and headed up to the second floor. A man was setting up a coffee cart near the elevator, and I practically mugged him for a cup.
“Seventy korunas.” He held out his hand right as the coffee hit my lips. I blinked.
“What?”
“You have to pay for the coffee.” His eyebrows furrowed. I couldn’t tell if he was human, fae, or a mix. He was handsome, young-looking, but had creases near his eyes and a grouchy countenance.
“I-I don’t have any money.” The humiliation over how pampered I grew up colored my cheeks.
Caden and I never had to pay for anything, from food to clothes.
It was all put on Istvan’s account. You never saw money being traded for products in Leopold; it was all taken care of behind the scenes, like a dirty secret.
I heard many of the wealthy had racked up such high tabs they would be forever indebted to Istvan. Probably exactly what he wanted.
“You can’t simply take something if you can’t pay or trade for it.” The man’s voice went up a little higher, his glower going to where I was already sipping at the coffee. “What world have you come from, girl? Things aren’t free.”
“I got it.” A corded arm reached over my shoulder and dropped a bill into the vendor’s hand. I wrenched my head to look behind me.
A handsome guy smiled at me, making me swallow.
Dressed in dark cargo pants and a T-shirt, the guy was about six foot and fit, with caramel-colored hair and bright green eyes.
One eye was black and blue, as if he had recently been in a fight.
Clean-shaven with a sharp jaw with a dimple in it, he reminded me of some superhero I had seen in old American movies.
“Tha-thank you.” I cleared my throat, hating the shame and entitlement clinging to my skin. “I’ll pay you back.” I stepped back.
“It’s no problem.” He grinned again, showing off his perfect teeth, moving in beside me. “I’ll take one too, Jan.”
The guy behind the stand fixed another coffee, handing it over with a frown.
“Don’t mind him.” The cute guy nodded at Jan. “He’s been cranky for the last forty years.”
Jan snarled at him, only making the cute guy laugh. He flicked his chin in a motion for me to walk with him.
“He should have given you a break knowing who you are.”
“You mean niece of the Kaptain? Nepotism precedes me, huh?”
He laughed, the sound deep and light at the same time.
“That,”—he shrugged—“and the fact you are new and could probably kick his ass in three seconds.”
My brows lifted as I sipped the coffee. “And how do you know that?”
“Because.” The guy stopped in the doorway of one of the training rooms, grinning down at me, his finger touching his discolored eye. “You did this.”
The coffee cup paused at my mouth.
“I was on the team to retrieve you. You have a serious right hook; got me in the gut as well.”
I blinked, not sure how to respond. “I’m sorry?”
“No, you’re not.” He chuckled like we had been friends forever. “Nor should you be. I was seriously impressed.”
“Thanks.” My lids lowered, still unsure how to react. I respected he held no ill will or resentment, nor strangely did I for him.
“I’m Lukas, by the way, but most call me Luk.” He reached his hand out to me.
“Brexley—” I stopped myself, shifting quickly. “But call me X.”
“X.” He shook my hand with a playful wink. “Was actually hoping I’d run into you . . . I think my ego needs a rematch.” He flicked his head to the mats. “You game?”
A smile curved on my mouth. It was the one place, no matter what was going on or where I was, I felt comfortable. At home.
It might be odd to some, but fighting was something I knew and could control. And a bonus, this time it wasn’t to the death.
“Absolutely.” I sucked down more of my caffeine, hoping it would kick in. I still wasn’t feeling my best, my energy low, but I wouldn’t turn down a fun warm-up match.
Following him into the room, I saw half was covered with mats.
The other half held items like old car tires, metal poles, used cannonballs, and ropes turned into workout equipment.
Nothing like the nice workout room back at HDF with machine arm presses, hand weights, and stationary bikes.
This felt more real, true to the actual fights on the streets.
Raw and dirty.
Setting my cup on the floor next to the wall, I peeled off the black sweatshirt I was given to wear, leaving me in my sports bra, faded black cargo pants, and black boots.
“Trying to knock me off my game?” He stepped onto the mat, his eyes going down to my breasts. “Think tits will trip me up?”
“Not my tits.” I stepped opposite him. I had never been voluptuous by any standards, but after Halálház, my figure had become nothing more than skin and bones, my thin skin showing every rib.
I was slowly putting weight back on, but I was still far from being the curvy girl I saw working out on the other side of the room.
“You sure you want to do this?” I stepped back in a defensive position, both of us starting to circle and gauge each other. He remembered how I fought, but I had no memory of his moves. “Your ego is already pretty fragile. Hate to make you cry in the corner for your mommy.”
He snorted. “I haven’t cried for my mommy since I was eight when she walked out on my father and me and became the prime minister’s whore.”
Leon’s young wife had died only a few years into their marriage, and all I knew was he took a lover very soon after. That woman was Lukas’s mom? Shock stilled me with his blunt and honest revelation, my guard going down for a second.
Luk pounced on the opportunity, his fist jabbing for my stomach.
Curving, I barely got out of the way, his knuckles clipping my hipbone as I twisted.
Flinching from the hit, I instantly threw up my defenses, chastising myself for a stupid rookie mistake.
My mind and body seemed to be groggy and slow still.
As we rounded each other, I couldn’t help but ask, “That true?”
His lips pinched in a bitter smile; his silence made me believe it was.
“And you’re here?” I didn’t know if I was really asking a question. “On the side that wants to take Prime Minister Leon down?”
“Even more so.” He swiped out for me. I dodged it, but barely.
Frustration creased my forehead. I fought in Halálház when I was sleep-deprived, starved, beaten, and tortured, and still moved faster than I was this morning.
My comrades at HDF used to tease I was like a ghost. I moved so fast they could barely see me.
This morning I resembled a sloth. The sensation of heaviness I felt yesterday, of being sucked of energy, still hung over me.
“The first thing I did when my dad died was join Povstat.” He sidestepped my attack. “When we do take them down, I want to look in Sonya’s eyes, for her to know her son was part of the group who ended them.”
He lunged for me; this time, I could tell talking time was over.