Reap (Scarred Souls 2)

Prologue

221

Poison.

Pain.

Burning.

Unbearable fucking burning.

Rapids of lava raced through my veins.

My skin … my skin was too hot … too tight around my flesh …

I panted with anger … so much fucking anger to keep inside … stabbing at my brain, driving me insane …

Rip someone apart, I snarled in my head, break bones, tear flesh … feel wet blood on my hands.

I paced, my heavy iron chains wrapping around my wrists and ankles. I needed to kill. I needed to get out from under these chains.

Must kill to stop the poison.

Must kill to stop the pain inside.

“You’re back in New York?” a voice suddenly spoke from across the room. “The Georgians have finally made their great return?”

“We have. And it’s been a long time coming. We have business to settle. Business from long ago,” Master spoke, and my heart began to pound. Listen to Master. Listen to Master’s commands.

Footsteps clicked on the cold hard floor. The man was approaching Master. I paced faster.

“With the Volkovs?” the other voice asked. “Because if it is, a lot has happened in forty years. They’re untouchable. Too strong.”

Master laughed. “We’ve returned stronger.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

Master paused, then replied, “They’ll find out soon enough. We’re not hiding from the red scum.”

Master turned to me, bringing a man with him. My muscles tensed and I snarled as they came close … too close.

“What the—”

“We’ve mastered a new drug. Proven to secure one hundred percent obedience in any subject. No other can offer this to you, Nasar. The Italians won’t have seen anything like it. Your business will surpass theirs when your girls can bend to a buyer’s every whim.”

Master’s voice stabbed at my ears. I always heard Master, my body tensing as I waited for his command. I kept my eyes to the dark wet ground as Master ordered, never making eye contact. He told me I was a dog, a killer. He told me I was his slave.

Searing heat enveloped my flesh; the white-hot pain in my head surged through my body. Shaking, I tensed before screaming out the pain. Fury took its hold.

Every muscle in my body was twitching, itching, on fire, thirsting to deliver death. My chains rattled louder as my hands clenched into fists, imagining the slaughter of an opponent, testing the strength of the heavy cuffs around my wrists.

The feet from Master came closer still. I paced faster. My heart pumped louder. I hissed loudly through clenched teeth.

Klavs, klavs, klavs—kill, kill, kill—I needed to kill.

I inhaled a long breath as the strange man approached. I snarled and bared my teeth, warning him to stay the fuck away from me.

He stepped back. I could smell fear on the fucker.

Fear.

Fear stank. Fear reeked. I hated it. Fucking hated it.

Klavs, klavs, klavs …

The poison in my blood boiled hotter still, my veins screaming at the pain of the scalding venom. I pulled on the chains around my hands, seeking release from the torment the poison brought. Muscles tensing, neck stiffening, and back stretching, I roared a deafening roar and increased the speed of my pacing.

Back and forth … back and forth … back and forth …

The man’s feet stepped forward and began to circle me, his sweat dropping on the cracked ground of the cellar. “You have managed to control this one? He seems feral.”

Master stepped forward; he came close, my body stiffening. He slapped his hand on my arm. “221 is my prized possession, my prototype, my dzaghii—my dog. He obeys anything I ask of him. Anything. He’s had a concentrated shot of the Type A drug this morning. Type A drug creates killers on demand, Type B, perfectly obedient slaves; slaves who will do anything you want.” Master’s voice lit with excitement. “221, here, kills with perfect efficiency. Complete annihilation.”

The feet of the man stopped, stood beside me, and I could hear his heartbeat race. “Prove it,” he said quietly.

Master laughed. “You brought the men?”

“They’re here,” the other man replied. “Bring them in!” he shouted, a command to someone at the entrance to the cellar.

He moved to stand beside Master. “I need trustworthy men by my side. Our war with the Italians is heating up. I need men who won’t question anything asked of them. Men who can’t be beat in a fight. I also want my stock to be obedient. I want them open to anything a buyer wants. If this drug you’ve created and its subject prove to be true, we have a deal.”

Master stepped away. A guard approached me and began to loosen the chains. My feet rocked from side to side as the chains dropped to the ground. Looking at my hands, I slowly clenched them into fists, the cracking of my knuckles echoing around the room.

Heavy breathing came from behind me. My lip curled … weakness …

“221, t’avis mkhriv.” Master ordered me to turn and my body swerved, head down, legs bracing in his direction.

“221, mzad.” Master demanded me to get ready. My chin lifted. Six men stood before me. Six men smirking, holding daggers.

As another jolt of lava swept through me, a growl rumbled in my chest.

Klavs, klavs, klavs.

“221, t’avis mkhriv,” Master called again. The guard thrust a pair of black sais into my hands. I never took my eyes off the men who stood before me—they were nothing but prey. I rolled my neck from side to side, legs parted, ready to attack my prey. My blood rushed faster and faster, my hands itching to slice these fuckers open.

The man with Master spoke. “These are some of the best men I have. If your dog can defeat them, we have a deal.”

“How many do you want dead?” Master’s voice enquired.

The man sputtered. “How many? You’re telling me he will kill them all, if ordered?”

“He’ll kill until I order him to stop.”

The man moved to stand in front of me, his small dark eyes glaring into mine. I bared my teeth and snarled. He immediately stepped back.

A smile eventually pulled on his thin lips as fire lit in his eyes. “I want to see him slay every last one.”

“221,” Master commanded. My body tensed, my fingers gripping the sais. “Sasaklao.”

Slaughter.

My feet lurched forward, just as the six men ran at me at once. A red mist clouded my eyes as I made the first strike, blood spattering my chest.

I sliced.

I gutted.

I culled.

I fucking slaughtered them all.

Chapter One

Luka

The Dungeon

Season Opener

Brooklyn, New York

I blinked … I blinked again. It didn’t fucking work. Didn’t remove the images from my mind.

Reaching up, I clawed at the knot of the silk tie I’d been forced to wear and loosened it off. I couldn’t fucking breathe.

Every muscle in my body was tense as I sat up in this suffocating private box, looking down on the Dungeon’s cage, the wide window giving me the perfect fucking view of the two fighters ripping each other apart.

The crowd noise was deafening; screaming and clamoring for spilt blood, as the first match of the season kicked off.

No matter how hard I tried to look away, my eyes were securely locked on the two men in the cage. My heart raced, my hands curled into fists, and my jaw ached as my teeth gritted together way too hard.