Riot (Scarred Souls 4)

The fighters around us closed in, until a large circle kept Master trapped. I watched as he raised his head and met the eyes of every fighter. Then I saw his face drain of blood even more when he clicked his fingers. That click would once have ordered his males to obey.

As they stared at their former master with circled lips and clenched hands, I could see the realization sink in.

“They are no longer your slaves,” I informed him, my voice rough from the fight.

Master blinked and I stepped back, holding out my hand to Luka, Zaal, and Valentin. Master watched every move I made.

“Master,” I said dryly, “it seems your tournament has been taken over. You cannot command loyalty. Loyalty is earned.”

The Wraiths that had helped in the revolt pushed to the front of the circle, led by an older man in a suit. “Abel,” Master hissed. Abel nodded slowly.

“The champions you so love, Master,” I said sarcastically, “are the Volkov Bratva and the Kostava Clan of Georgia.” Master stared at Luka, Zaal, and Valentin. I pointed to Luka. “Luka is the knayz, once a prisoner of the Alaskan gulag. Zaal, one of the Kostava twins you experimented on for years right here in the pit.” I then pointed to Valentin, who was rocking rabidly on his feet. His knuckles were white as he clutched his picanas. “And this,” I said, “was your sister’s—”

“Bitch sister’s,” Valentin corrected and bared his teeth.

“Bitch sister’s Ubiytsa.” Valentin stepped closer to Master, and I added, “His name is Valentin Belrov … he is Inessa’s brother. Inessa, you know. But to you she is 152. Your High Mona. The one you left tied up and hanging on for life in the basement.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Master’s skin to blanch even more. But as he stared at Valentin, Valentin who had tipped his head back and roared out his pain, I was wrong. Valentin ran forward, and sent the tips of his picanas through the back of Master’s calves. Master roared out as the picanas pegged him to the ground.

Luka reached out and dragged Valentin back. For a second I thought he would fight Luka to kill Master. But Zaal stepped up to his side, helping keep him in place. Valentin glared at me instead.

“Finish him,” he ordered with a deep harshness. “End him!”

Casting a glance around the room, I saw every fighter that Master had enslaved watch me, pure hope in their eyes. Hope this was it. This was the liberation every one of us craved but never believed we would get.

As I stepped closer to him, Master looked up at me. Narrowing my eyes, I said, “This ends today. From this point on, this pit will not exist. The gulags that Luka has told me of will be destroyed one by one. Your associates will be murdered. Your name will be forgotten.” I pointed my Kindjal to every one of the fighters thirsting for his blood. “We will all leave this place.” Bending down, I said, “We will all get our names back. We will live … in freedom!”

“I made you!” Master hissed, and stuttered through the pain Valentin’s picanas where causing. “I made all of you! In this arena you were gods!”

“No,” I said, slowly shaking my head for emphasis, “we were slaves. But out there, we will be whatever we want. As I have been told it should be.”

“Ilya,” Luka said, and I met his eyes. He nodded, telling me to get it done.

So I did.

Walking to stand behind Master, I surveyed all of the fighters and the mesmerized crowd, Master’s investors who had profited from our imprisonment. Taking one of my beloved Kindjals, I slowly raised it high. With a thunderous roar, I plunged it straight through the top of his skull. I kept screaming as I did. The remainder of my hatred and fury released and drifted to the ceiling.

The males were quiet in the aftermath. They all stared at Master, dead, bent on his knees.

This time he was below us.

He had submitted to our collective strength.

Valentin broke the silence by facing the fighters in the stands and calmly ordering, “Kill them all.” He pointed to the rest of Master’s people. The fighters didn’t move. Then they all looked to me. My chest filled with pride when they waited for my command.

Luka stepped forward. “You are their champion. They will only take orders from you.”

Taking hold of my blade’s handle, I ripped it from Master and kicked his corpse to the floor. Turning in a circle, I then raised my blade into the air and ordered, “Fucking kill them all!”

The room seemed to shake violently with revenge and the sheer need to cull. The fighters attacked as one. They charged the crowd, weapons held high.

Valentin gripped my arm as he retrieved his picanas from Master’s legs. “Go,” he pushed. “Get Inessa.” He looked to the crowd. “We’ll get these dicks.”

I nodded and ran. Racing out of the tunnel, I pushed my legs as fast as they would go and followed the directions Maya had told Valentin last night. Valentin remembered everything, including the way to moy prekrasnyy.

Descending the steps that led to the lower basement, I then rounded the corner, sprinting down the narrow hallway. I arrived at a metal door and without pause kicked it wide open.

My stomach dropped at the sight that greeted me. Inessa was tied up by ropes, her pale skin dripping with blood. Maya was holding her up, the young female easing Inessa’s pain.

Hearing me at the door, Maya looked up. Her eyes immediately filled with tears and she said, “She is losing consciousness.” Maya sniffed. “I have tried to keep her awake, but the blood…”

I took my Kindjals and, moving to the tight ropes, sliced through them both. Inessa immediately collapsed on Maya. Before Maya herself fell, I grabbed Inessa. When I saw her lashed bare back, her blood pooled on the floor, I instantly saw red.

I breathed through the anger until I composed myself enough to push Inessa’s hair from her face. She moaned as I held her in my arms. I tried my best to avoid touching her open wounds. Inessa’s eyes rolled open and her sleepy gaze met mine. She tried to smile through bruised lips. “Moy voin,” she whispered. “My Ilya. You have come for me.”

Her eyes closed. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I called, “Inessa?”

Maya moved beside us. “She keeps slipping in and out of consciousness. She needs help.”

I turned to sprint back upstairs, when Maya asked, “Is it over?”

I heard hope lace her words. Turning, I replied, “Yes.”

Her hand lifted to her mouth and tears fell down her cheeks. When I moved to the door, I realized Maya didn’t follow. When I looked back, she rocked on her feet and said, “I … I don’t know what to do now. This is all I’ve known. My family doesn’t want me.” She lifted her hand to her scarred face. I saw the fear of the unknown in her expression.

My chest cracked at the little-girl-lost look on her face. I stared down at Inessa and recalled how much affection she had for the young female. Looking up, I said, “You come with us. Inessa loves you like a sister. You belong with us.”

Maya stared for several frozen seconds, then she choked out a sob. My heart squeezed for the youngster. “Come,” I ordered, and fled into the hallway. I smiled when I heard the sound of Maya’s light feet following behind us.

I raced up the stairs and through the tunnel. I suddenly stopped when I looked at the pit. It was done. There were fighters milling round the pit. When I looked to the stands, I saw Luka climbing to speak to the fighters, Zaal by his side. The Bratva knayz and the Georgian Lideri. Valentin hung back and waited at the bottom. The fighters all stared up, waiting for what needed to be said.

Luka cleared his throat. His knuckle-dusters were still on his hands. “Warriors,” he began. The males all listened intently in absolute silence. “My name is Luka Tolstoi. This will not mean much to you yet, but I am a product of the gulags that Arziani—your slain master—owned.” He next pointed to Zaal. “This is Zaal Kostava. He was raised in this pit. He is one of you.” He pointed to Valentin. “As is he. Valentin Belrov.”

The males looked to one another in confusion. “I’ll keep this short. I belong to a powerful family in New York City. It is in another country, America. We have recovered the files of most of you. In those files are your names and where you are from. Many of you have family. Some, like Valentin and Ilya, your champions, were kidnapped from an orphanage. You have no family.” He paused, then said, “Today, you are free. You get to choose what to do with your life. For those who discover they have family, the guards that helped plan this riot will help you find your way home. Those of you who have none, you are welcome to join me in New York.” Luka placed his hand over his chest. “If you want, there is a place for you in my organization.”