Devotion (Fractured Diamonds Saga #3)

Prologue Ciro

PROLOGUE: CIRO

“Run leetle mysh ! We catch you soon enough, rat!”

“Eat shit, comrade!” I yelp over my shoulder, taking a hard left.

“You really know how to make friends, Diamante!” Matvey startles me as he slides around the corner right behind me from another direction. Guy knows this place better than he should for our first day in kindergarten.

He’s really cool, though. I think we’ll be BFFs.

“I caught your eye, didn’t I?”

“You used me for body shield when you kicked Crovak in the balls and ran, shitbox!”

“Shitbox? I really need to teach you better insults.”

“I can think of better in Russian!”

“Speaking of which, less talking, more rushin’!” I speed up my pace as the clatter of footfalls increases behind us.

Definitely don’t want to get caught by those guys.

Or the other guys.

Or the other other guys.

Guess it’s not true what they say about your first day in the slammer. Do not pick the biggest, scariest monster and try to make him your bitch.

At least not a monster with a shit ton of buddies.

To be fair, every single inmate in this place is as scary as the next.

Or maybe things are just different in Mother Russia.

“Right!”

“I know I am?—”

“No! Turn right!” Matvey shoves me mid-run, almost barreling me into the wall. Instead, we veer into a cul-de-sac in the walkway, a small semicircle of not-quite-a-room.

I skid to a halt, glancing around for our way out.

“The fuck, Matty?! This is a dead end. And that’s absolutely not a figure of speech when they catch us.”

The broad, tall, kinda unreasonably good-looking brunet gives me a look, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow. Somehow, it’s hella familiar.

But that’s hardly relevant at the moment.

I shrug as the echoes round the nearest bend in the cinderblock halls of our hell away from home.

Matvey kicks the ground beneath us, resonating in a dull, metallic thunk.

“We go down,” he drolls.

“Propositioning me? As much as I love a good BJ, I’d rather not. We haven’t even gotten to know each other very well yet!”

“You need lesson in humor too.” Shaking his head, he kicks the metal hatch open, revealing a dark hole and a ladder. But like a fucking nutcase, he steps over the hole and drops out of sight.

“Fu-fu-fuuuuck!” I hiss, wringing my hands.

I’ve never been one to back down from a little fear. A little pissed pants.

So I take a step back, take a deep breath…

And feel a nice, comfy boot slam right in between my shoulder blades from behind.

Good timing. I was about to chickenshit out of jumping.

The impact launches me forward, into what I’m sure is a graceful, slow-motion swan dive the likes of which the Olympic team would be envious. Headfirst into oblivion!

I can just make out the rungs of a ladder on my way down. Cool.

It’s about a ten-foot drop. I barely even feel the impact.

Roll. Bounce.

On my feet in a heartbeat. Not dazed at all.

And running into the unknown ahead of me. Smack dab into a wall.

“Monkey in a Tonka truck!” I yelp, grabbing my bloody nose.

No time to waste indulging a little agony on my entire face. I can feel pain later.

Shoving off the wall, I scramble after where I think I hear Matvey’s footsteps to my left and pick up my pace. This place is a fucking maze. Throwback to the Cold War, cement and freezing winter-worn walls. Cozy.

Great aesthetic. Really an “as advertised” feel for a Russian death camp.

Dark tunnels.

Torches instead of electric light.

But only when the power’s off, which seems to be more often than it’s on.

Dungeon vibes. Really moody.

Could use a little heat instead of freezing, brutal temperatures. Guess that’s just the only flavor on the menu in Russia. Like ice cream, but shitty.

I call it my nightly dessert at the Goulash. And this is only night two!

“It’s called the Gulag, you fuckwit,” Ero’s voice echoes in my head. Brings a little snicker to my lips.

I miss that smug bastard.

Wish the manky twit was with me in here. We’d show these cold-brewed asshats a thing or two. Right before we burn the place to the ground.

As it stands, they haven’t caught me yet.

Oho, they tried last night. It takes a quick wit and an even quicker step to catch me off guard.

They might wear me down, though. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

Naps in tight spaces don’t count. So I hatched my plan to square myself away a nice corner of authority in this place by kicking Crovak’s ass.

“This way!” I hear the whisper ahead and double down on my pace.

I should have noticed the tone in Matvey’s voice, the waver, the strangled tightness.

An arm takes me at the neck as I round another corner and I go down hard on my back, knocking the wind from me. Stars explode behind my eyes simultaneously, putting on a dazzling show in my skull.

Lovely.

“You gave us good chase. Now you give us good entertainment.”

“You really don’t want me to start singing,” I wheeze, rolling onto my side. Right before four rough hands drag me up to my knees.

Crovak looms over me, his face bruised, his shirt off.

Whoa.

Dude is a graffiti artist’s dream of tats.

He cracks his knuckles crouching to look me in the eye. “New blood. Normally we just haze you. Steal your possessions, make you our slave for week.”

“What?” I ask, playing dumb. Or maybe not playing.

“He means, you fucks up!” Another massive brute growls off to the side, grinning.

“I do that pretty frequently. Could you elaborate?”

The fist that takes me across the cheek sends me sprawling. The hands hold tight, dragging me back to center. Just in time to take another strike across the jaw.

“Th-thanks, fellas…” I mumble, spitting blood.

“Crovak, that’s enough…” someone mutters, and I see Matvey step forward, looking grim.

“ Et tu , douchey?” I glare at all three of him blurring in front of me.

“I tell you when it is enough.” Crovak gets right in his face and the younger man backs down, shaking his head.

“Get it over with then.” He turns away, almost looking sorry for me. Just for a second.

This can’t be good.

“Bring him!”

“I can walk!” I snap, and the hands let me go. Funny. I thought I could.

The cold floor greets me like an old friend. He even keeps me company as they spin and drag me down the hall, torchlight flickering in strange shadows on the blackened ceiling. They really need to hire somebody to clean up.

Ice-cold air whips into the corridor, snapping me back to clarity.

“Now, mertvets , you get up.” One of my assistants drops my leg, kicking me softly in the ribs. Gently, like a sledgehammer.

Still, I gather my strength and pull myself up, forcing air into my lungs. Staggering forward, I step through the open doorway, waiting for another barrage of blows to take me down.

Instead, I find an arena of sorts ahead of me.

It’s surrounded on all sides by bleachers filled with screaming inmates. Cheering as I see what might be boots dragging in the dirt and disappearing through the far door.

A ring of torches lights the packed dirt, stained and darkened with probably not blood and gore. I glance to my right, noting the wicked look on Crovak’s face.

“You are bold, Diamante. Hopefully bold enough to survive.”

“Could we start over? I think you got the wrong impression when I kicked you in the nuts. That’s how we say ‘I love you’ where I’m from!”

His grin twists, a flare of rage passing through his face.

“Insolent bastard, aren’t you?!” He rattles off a string of what I can only assume are curses in Russian. “She put you here for reason. But I do not care.”

“Cro…” Matvey appears at his side again.

“No. He fuck with me. He act like big dick. Now he learns what this means to be Bratva.”

Hands shove me forward, to the gate and through.

“Matty…you’re a shitbox.”

“Sorry, Diamante. I tried to warn you.” He grabs the fence, looking dour.

“Next time, just use your words! Any suggestions?” I feel the adrenaline rising as rattling metal and growling shouts echo from the doorways spaced along the low walls of the arena. Dozens of voices, all desperate and violent, fill the frigid air.

“Try not to die.”

“Cute. I’m guessing jokes won’t do me a lot of good in this case.”

“Your jokes are bad enough to kill…”

The gates open and screaming men, wild, half-dressed, and armed with makeshift weapons storm into the yard. The crowd roars.

I kinda wanna piss my pants. Kinda wanna run and hide.

Kinda wanna kill every last one of these fuckers for doing this to me. And the bitch who threw me in here.

A rush of fear and rage and blood-boiling adrenaline surges through me. The mass of killers crashes toward me, beating each other, screaming bloody murder.

I feel my lips pull back in a sick, wild grin.

“I will have drink to remember you after, mertvets .” I hear Matvey’s voice behind me, distantly.

“Cheers, then. What’s that mean, anyway?” I call over my shoulder, fists clenching.

“Dead man.”