Chapter 50 #2
Vas chuckles mirthlessly. “You still have so much to learn.” His voice is tinted with sadness, and I can hear the disappointment dripping from his tone. “These are the top students about to graduate. They all exceed expectations in every aspect of learning and training.”
“They still shouldn’t be forced to be out here learning to kill people.”
“None of them were forced.”
Eyes wide, I turn to him in surprise before shifting my gaze back to the students.
“They all volunteered to defend their leader, their home and avenge Matthias’s death,” Maksim comes up behind me, his voice filled with a deep pride as he overlooks the courtyard. “We never force our students into anything. Hell, this was their idea.”
“Why?”
“Many of them owe their lives to Matthias,” Maksim informs me. “They want to repay a debt in the best way they know how.”
Tears grip the edges of my lash line. I dash them away before anyone can see. “They could die.”
“If it wasn’t for Matthias and the Bratva, they would be dead already,” Vas points out logically. “This place is their second chance. Their second life. You need to accept and honor their dedication and, as it may be one day, their sacrifice.”
But I don’t want anyone to sacrifice anything for me. I never have and never will. If it comes down to it, I am more than happy to be the one to sacrifice my life for them. These students who carved their bravery and survival onto my soul.
“I can’t do it!”
The sudden shrill proclamation catches my attention, and my eyes follow the sound back to a small brunette who faces off against a giant Roman.
“You can,” Roman growls. “You aren’t trying, Amika. You’re holding back. You’re hiding.”
“Cowers, more like,” her partner, a boy I recognize by the name of Vadim, sneers disgustingly.
“I. AM. NOT. A. COWARD.” The girl, Amika, shrieks. I see the move before she makes it, and so does Vadim. Amika leaps at him with a war cry, her body bouncing slightly off the grass as she surges forward, her fist clenched and ready to strike.
Amika misses Vadim’s face by a mile. He easily sidesteps her attack. Grabbing her wrist midair, he twists it behind her back, using the momentum of her lunge to slam her hard into the ground.
Ouch, that has to hurt.
Amika cries out, a mix of pain and frustration as she wiggles and writhes beneath her captor.
“Let me go you fucking egghead.”
Vadim chuckles.
“You gonna calm down, princess?” He taunts her. Amika growls and swings her free arm back at him. He catches that one with ease as well, locking it behind her back with the other one.
“You’re going to regret this.”
“No,” I step forward. “You are if you think you can fight with all that pent up anger.”
“Pakhan.” Vadim instantly releases Amika as if she is hot coal and stands, his shoulders tightening as he comes to attention before him.
Then he is flat on his back.
I suppress a small chuckle when Amika takes Vadim’s legs out from under him.
“First lesson,” I smirk down at him. “Never turn your back on an enemy. Even in training.” Vadim takes my offered hand, shooting Amika a freezing glare.
Damn, polar ice caps that one. I can feel the frost from here.
“Second lesson,” I turn my attention to Amika. “Getting angry will get you killed. Taunts and digs can only hurt you if you let them. I doubt he is the first to call you a coward and he certainly won’t be the last.”
Amika’s eyes widen as she stands and dusts herself off. “Yes, ma’am.” She comes to attention before me. The entire training session has stopped, their eyes on me.
“He’s beating you so easily because you’re telegraphing your moves.” I notice several times how easily predictable she was when she moved. “You’re dropping your shoulder before you strike, and your emotions play over your face like a newbie at VIP poker night.”
“Vadim is bigger than me,” she nearly whines. I raise my eyebrows at her statement, my eyes narrowing at her.
“And you think that’s what?” I harden my voice. “Unfair?”
Amika lowers her eyes to her feet and scuffs her shoes in the dirt, looking uncomfortable.
“Size doesn’t matter, Amika,” I tell her. “What matters in a fight is using every tool you have available against your enemy. If he’s bigger and brawnier than you are, then he is slower. So be quicker. Move your feet more, wear him out before striking at him.”
“Fighting is like seduction,” I continue.
“Watch him. The way he moves. The way he talks. Does he have light steps that will tell you how quickly he moves or heavier ones to tell you how slow? If you pay attention, everyone has a tell, even Vadim and Roman. Find that tell, that weakness, and then exploit it without exploiting yourself.”
Amika’s throat bobs. “I’ll never survive out there. I’ll lose.” It is a whisper on her lips. An admittance to herself more than to me. I think the same thing once.
“As long as you have something to fight for,” I assure her. “You’ve already won.”
“Not much of us have anything to fight for,” a boy toward the back speaks up. “We’re poor. Homeless. Our parents either died or gave us up. Many of us used and abused. What is there to fight for.”
“Justice.” It is a simple word to give him, but a powerful one all the same. “You are fighting to end the very thing that put you here. You’re avengers. People who understand what it means to be powerless and feel victimized.”
“We are victims,” Amika spits.
“No,” I smile at her affectionately. She reminds me of Maleah, who once told me the same thing I am about to tell her.
“You’re survivors. You did what you needed to do.
Every day you go on living, you survive.
Look at all of you,” I sweep my hand in front of me, gesturing to the crowd.
“Look at how far you have come. You could have easily given up. Given in to death and pain and sorrow. Another nameless kid on the street. Another drug addict or prostitute. Another no one. But you chose to live and learn and survive.”
“What do you know of survival?” A man in the back I don’t recognize spits. He wears a black shirt with the word trainer printed across the front. “Posh bitch from a posh home. You don’t know anything about suffering or survival.”
“Watch your tone, Malich,” Vas hisses. He steps forward, hazel eyes turning a burnt gold with his pent-up ire.
“Leave it.” I order Vas. He looks down at me in surprise before nodding his head submissively and stepping back. This is my fight.
“I grew up in a house filled with riches,” I admit coldly.
“A place I believed was my home. Raised by a man I thought was my father.
A man who beat me and makes me watched as he killed those who were disloyal to him.
He ruled through fear. Not with loyalty and compassion.
He stole me and called himself my father for years.
Locked me in a small cupboard of a room for days with no food or water.
Only letting me out when he thought I was about to die.
“And trust me, there were many times I wish I had,” I sneer.
“I finally managed to run away and when he caught me, he had my best friend raped in front of my eyes for assisting me. He sold me to Matthias as collateral so his precious son would survive. Should I keep going? Most of you know the rest. Will my word suffice, or should I show you my scars, Malich?”
Now he looks downright contrite and mildly fearful.
“We all have stories to tell that would give even the darkest soul nightmares.” My gaze leaves Malich to draw over the crowd.
“But the most important story you must tell is your future. The past is gone. Don’t forget it, but don’t let it drown you.
You can’t control it any more than you can control the weather.
But what you can control,” I pause. The dramatics heighten the moment.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for theater.
“Is your future. You determine who you are and who you want to be.
“You decide where you want to go from here. No one else controls what lies ahead.”
Silence falls over the courtyard; the only sound is the mild shuffling of the bodies who can’t remain still and the wind singing through the trees.
This is a moment for them. A moment they need with the battle looming on the horizon.
The faces before me have still been living in the past and they’ve let it dictate where they are going.
The past is just a guide to a better tomorrow. We accept it shapes us and the moment we realize it has no control over us is the moment we are free. We all have two lives. The second one begins the moment we realize we only have one.
Or so Confucius said.
He seems legit; I’ll take it. Better advice than a fortune cookie if you ask me.
“Let’s go everyone,” Roman whistles. “Back to training. The Pakhan is very busy, and we have more drills to run.”
With a low groan the students file back to their original positions, some of them waving at me as they go. Compassion and kindness breed better loyalty than fear could ever hope to.
“Ma’am,” Amika looks over at me with a hopeful expression in her obsidian eyes. “Will you…” she bites her lip, a slight blush sweeping across her cheeks. “Will you train with us tomorrow?”
“The Pakhan has better things to do than—” I cut Roman off with a wave of my hand.
“I look forward to it.”
Amika’s broad smile is all I need to know that I make the right decision.
Loyalty is earned and not demanded.
Built and not forced.
I won’t let them sacrifice their lives for mine like Matthias.
No.
My life will be laid down first.
But not before I paint the streets with blood and burn the city to the ground.
Hades and hell aren’t ready for me yet.