Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Days before the annual V GAMES…
Zahkar
Twenty-Eight-Years Old…
The Games. An arena that offers an annual night of survival, debauchery, pleasure, violence, death…and not always in that order. A game for the rich and one our Alyona is part of.
That woman arrived here with a designer purse and a “fuck it” attitude. She then trained like a demon to get herself ready for these twisted games like her life depended on it. And it does. Dammit, we can’t let her die in there.
She’s being forced to play in these games and to fight for her family’s debts. But she is far too damn precious to see perish in such brutality.
This is why letting people in is a problem. They either hurt you or die. Sometimes both.
At first, she burrowed her way under our skin like a bloodthirsty tick.
She was our newest itch to be scratched—a fiery hot flavor we had to indulge in.
But, somehow, she buried herself much deeper than anyone ever before.
Now, she’s spreading roots in our hearts, like a winter jasmine thriving amongst the cold, bringing vibrant color into our dark world.
Beauty among madness.
Calm within chaos.
Love surrounded by hate.
Me and Rodion have always shared. Ever since that day he took me home with him. From day one we’ve been two halves of a whole who share bodies—both male and female, and everything in between—but we've never shared feelings outside of the bond we have for each other. Until her.
And her delicate life hangs dangerously in the hands of monsters.
My chest aches and I rub at it absently. There are a million thoughts racing through my brain. “We could offer to pay the debt,” I say aloud, trying and failing to work out an answer that doesn’t involve our girl dying. “We have money. Tons of it.”
Rodion is silent for a beat as he watches Alyona take another hit from our cousin, Ven, who’s in the ring training her. This is her last practice run before The Games in a few days. The clock is ticking.
“They don’t want the money,” he grumbles. “It’s never about the money with the Vasilievs. It’s always power with them. Their precious fucking reputation.”
Alyona takes a kick to her stomach that has her hissing for air. Rodion clenches his hands into fists and blows out an exasperated breath. I know exactly how he feels. I’ve never wanted to break our cousin's face before today, but Ven’s just asking for a concussion from yours truly.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi...
I sidle up next to Rodion and place a hand on his shoulder. It’s usually him taming my temper, but sometimes he needs my physical contact to settle him.
“We’ll tell Vlad he can’t have her,” I blurt out, reaching for straws and I know it.
He quirks a brow, his fists unclenching. “And start a war?”
“It would be one we’d win.”
His grin mirrors mine.
The Games have never been something our family enjoys. We can get behind the competitive side of The Games, but not the butchery of other people for the simple pleasures of the rich. Ven had the power to change things, but revenge clouded his mind, and he gave the power back to the Vasilievs.
And here we are.
Watching our girl get primed to be thrown to the wolves.
“Too many lives would be lost, brother.” He nods and then growls toward the ring. “Behind you, krasotka.” My beauty. Frustration is wearing on him as he watches our girl struggle. “Things have only just been settled after the news Father was fucking Yuri’s wife all those years ago.”
Were we surprised? Fuck no.
No one with our last name is a saint.
And Yuri is a cunt. How he treats women is notorious.
When I first met the man, I was only twelve.
Rodion and I walked in on him throttling a maid who had accidentally spilled water on him.
Rodion darted from the room in a panic, but I wasn’t new to such depravity, especially when it led to death.
I remained frozen, watching as the blood vessels popped in the whites of her eyes, spreading like spider webs.
He squeezed her throat until a cracking sound of her windpipe crushing echoed in the air.
And then she stopped moving. Another woman’s death imprinted on my brain and plagued my dreams for weeks.
The bastard was evil then and has only sharpened his edge for brutality since.
“So, we let her die?” My tone is sharper than it usually is with Rodion, but he knows exactly what’s at stake because he is me. He feels what I feel. My soul twin.
“No,” he says coolly, lips curling into a devious smirk. “We do what anyone would in our place. We go into those brutal games, breaking all the rules, and pull our fucking girl out.”
My heart rate quickens in my chest. Dangerous as hell, but I like the way he thinks.
“The higher powers, our father included, won’t be pleased,” I challenge, though I’m right there with him.
We need a plan, but that means also making it foolproof.
“There could be deadly repercussions, and it could start a war anyway.” I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the wall, watching Alyona offer Ven a vicious kick to the junk.
A grin twitches Rodion’s lips. “Fuck the powers that be. We deny any involvement, lay low with her, and decide what to do once things settle.”
The plan is in motion.
“I need those parts of him,” Diana barks, snapping her fingers to gain Alyona’s attention. “No blows below my husband’s belt.”
Our girl may be able to threaten Ven’s babymaker, but she’s still not vicious enough to survive the hell that awaits her. It’s our duty to protect her.
“So…” I lift a brow and meet my brother’s wicked stare. “We’re entering The Games?”
“Fucking right we are.”
Let the games begin…
Day of the annual V GAMES…
Entering with the first wave of participants was the best option to go undetected, but almost instantly, we lose sight of Alyona when she’s sent in through a different entrance.
The Games are designed this way to prevent a mass massacre from happening at the starting line.
Of course, the sadistic bastards behind the scenes watching can’t have that.
There’s no thrill in it. Instead, the chaos is drip-fed throughout the entire night through numerous entry points to ensure maximum entertainment.
Nothing better than the hunt and horrifying, drawn out torture.
“We told her to find a place to hide, and stay there as long as possible.” Rodion grouses, jerking his head toward the first set of hallways arranged like a maze. “What the hell is she doing?”
“She’s probably running scared which means it’s imperative we get to her. And fast. She has no idea we’re coming here to get her.” I remind him.
We’re both dressed for the harrowing occasion in black long-sleeve tops and matching slacks to conceal any identifiable marks.
The generic latex face masks, complete with scraggly brown hair to keep our faces hidden, and conceal our neck tattoos are essential for us to remain undetected.
Our Games crashing outfit ensemble is nothing we would ever wear—because being well-dressed is a part of our identities—which makes it perfect for our mission here.
Slip in. Grab the girl. Slip back out.
That’s our mission.
A massive brute pops out of fucking nowhere, both meaty fists gripping the gnarliest of knives.
I don’t even need to intervene, though, because Rodion has already flicked his wrist, launching a shuriken into the side of the burly man’s thick neck.
The fool tries to look down at the shiny star that’s gashed through the fat vein in his neck, but the blood spurting out of him tells him all he needs to know.
He blinks several times and then collapses to the ground with a guttural sound of defeat.
Too easy. Pathetic.
Screams and shouts fill the arena, but we continue our pursuit without hesitation, swiftly eliminating any threats as we search for our prize. Hours go by as we navigate through this wicked place with stealth and precision. Finally, Rodion grabs my arm and slams me against a wall making me grunt.
“We’ll wait here,” he instructs, voice muffled behind the mask. “The door she was sent through will lead her along this path at some point, and that’s the room with the exit hidden inside.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Was the rough handling necessary?” I ask, my dick twitching in my slacks.
“You don’t usually complain.”
“Who’s complaining?”
“Shhh, listen.” He taps his mask where his ears sit beneath. “Do you hear that?”
My heart pounds every time I hear a woman scream.
All my instincts urge me to keep moving, to find her and save her.
But we could end up going in circles, never catching each other’s scent.
So, I wait, and eventually a tug pulls me out of the shadows where I’ve been hiding.
I step out of a doorway when I hear a familiar voice.
It’s hers.
She’s about ten feet in front of me, gripping a bloodied machete, and pride swells in my chest. That’s our girl.
“Out of my way, Jesus Freak,” she spits, and I can’t help but smile behind the mask. She must think it makes me look like Jesus. You never know with her. The strangest shit comes out of her mouth.
I ignore her taunt and take a step in her direction, but she darts toward a door, disappearing inside before I can reach her. The door slams shut.
Dammit.
Sounds of a struggle pulse against the walls, her screams sending my heart rate skyrocketing. I slam my fist against the door, then my shoulder. It won’t budge.
“Brother!” I bellow. “Stop messing around. I need you.”
Rodion dodges an axe that a random female contestant attempts to cleave him in half with and swipes her feet from under her.
“Give me that,” he snaps, snatching the axe from her grip before she can recover. As she scrambles to her feet, a look of shock on her face, she quickly retreats, taking off in the opposite direction.