Raze (Scarred Souls 1)

When Talia pulled back, she eyed me skeptically and asked, “Are you okay with that, Kisa? You always seem a little distant when we talk of Alik. Wedding jitters? Or is it something more?” Her brown eyes dropped to scan my outfit. “And what the fuck are you wearing? It’s like an oven out here and you’re dressed for the snow!”

I threw on my six thousand-dollar veneered smile and batted my hand in front of my face. “I’m cold, so I wrapped up. I think I might be getting flu or something. Giving charity isn’t a damn fashion parade, by the way, Talia. And I’m fine, just sad not to be spending the night with Alik. Instead, here I’m again.” I rolled my eyes. “For my family’s sins…”

Not once did Talia’s eyes leave mine, but eventually, she let it go and linked arms with me. “For all the sins of our families! Well, let’s get this done so we can hit a bar and get drunk! Father Kruschev has put me in another team. He knows we talk too much and neglect our duties if we’re together. So move fast and meet me back here soon. I need alcohol!”

“We’ll see,” I replied, knowing I would be making my excuses to bow out of Talia’s invitation. Alik would go berserk if he thought I was hitting the bars. He would think I was picking up men. And with Talia, of all people. Alik hated her, thought her a slut for actually living a normal life. He also hated who her brother was to me, and he hated that she kept his memory alive. The last thing my papa and the Bratva needed was for Alik to flip and kill someone else. Once Alik’s temper switched into gear, there was no stopping his inner killer from raging forth. My father was fast running out of favors within New York’s judicial system to keep him from being locked up.

Pavel waved me over and, giving Talia a kiss, I quickened my step toward the band of volunteers and began trying to save some lost souls.

*****

“God bless you, child… God bless you… You always take such good care of me.”

I smiled at the old man as he delved into his care package, immediately eating the ham sandwich that was tightly wrapped in saran wrap. He had been here at this spot for years. Well, I corrected myself, at least the three years I’d been serving with the church. Pav said this old man had probably been living on these streets for at least three decades. He always hid down here in this small alley, like a scared mouse afraid to leave his hole. I’d snuck away from my group against orders, but I couldn’t leave him without his food parcel. Something about this old man spurred me on to save him. He always looked so… broken, so sad.

I could relate.

“Kisa? Kisa, where are you?” A distant voice attracted my attention. I instantly recognized it as that of Pavel.

Glancing down to check on the old man, I smiled when I noted he was wrapped up in warm blankets and buried under a mass of boxes hiding him from view.

“Kisa?” Rolling my eyes, I groaned when Talia’s frantic voice joined that of Pavel.

Great.

Glancing toward the growing gathering of volunteers at the end of the long alleyway, I started to jog their way, when suddenly, a scruffy, bearded man ghosted out of the darkness, tripping me to the cool, wet ground with a deliberately outstretched foot.

With no time to scream, I hit the ground, my palms scraping against rough asphalt. Suddenly, my attacker’s weight pressed down on my back as he tried to snatch my purse. He stank of alcohol and stale body odor. I fought back a retch. I didn’t recognize him as one of the homeless who frequented this alley. And he had absolutely no idea whose daughter he was fucking with!

“No! Get off me! Help!” I tried to scream, but the man’s weight on my back stole my voice from sounding out in the empty alley. The volunteers hadn’t seen me here, being attacked, too far out of sight in the darkness to witness the crime.

My attacker kept yanking on my arm, making me see spots. I tried to free my arm from its place underneath my stomach, to release my purse, but it was trapped.

Then I abruptly stilled as I felt a sharp blade caress the side of my neck.

“Hand over your purse, bitch, or I’ll cut your fucking throat,” the low-toned voice ordered, but I couldn’t free my arm. Fear spread through my whole being.

The blade pressed farther into my neck, and I closed my eyes, expecting the worst. Suddenly, I heard a deep roar and my attacker was hauled off me, his strangled protest muting mid-wail as a crunching sound echoed around the towering walls of the alley.

Frantically crawling forward to escape the noise, I scrambled to my knees and flipped over on to my ass… and immediately stopped breathing at the scene before me.

My attacker was pinned against the wall as a huge hooded man pounded his face and stomach with clenched fists. I couldn’t take my eyes away. The hooded man was relentless, each punch delivered with precision, his chest heaving in excitement and his feet rocking from side to side as he relished the outlet for his aggression. He was enjoying the fight… He was getting off on violence…

I recognized the signs from watching Alik rip apart his victims in the cage.

Crawling to the wall of the alley, I used the damp brick to stumble to my unsteady feet and whipped my head to the hooded man… who now had his hands on my attacker’s jaw.

As I realized what he was about to do, I lurched forward and shouted, “No!” But with a sharp jerk of his large hands, a loud snap ricocheted off the walls. My attacker’s lifeless body dropped to the ground at my feet—neck broken.

I stared at the unmoving body. Death didn’t usually faze me. I’d seen many dead bodies in my lifetime, more than most undertakers see in their whole careers, but the ease with which the hooded man killed filled me with fear and dread. It was obvious he had killed before; no first-timer was that smooth in the kill.