Riot (Scarred Souls 4)

I stared at my warrior, but Ilya was glaring at Master. Master who, when I turned to face him, was storming toward me. His dark eyes were furious. He reached out and grabbed me by my hair.

A rage-filled bellow ripped from Ilya, but before I could even turn around, Master had pulled me from Ilya’s cell, unclothed.

As I was dragged down the hallway, my feet slapping on the stone floor, I could still hear Ilya fighting to be free of the guards.

Tears streamed from my eyes, caused by the pain of Master’s grip on my hair. He wrenched me around a corner and we began to descend some unfamiliar stairs.

Fear cut through me as I lost my footing and slammed against the wall. We landed on the floor of a narrower hallway and my knees gave out. But Master continued to drag me, my skin grazing on the rough stone. I cried out when he pulled harshly on my hair. My body fell forward, causing Master to stop.

Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around my arm and wrenched me to my feet. I cried out as he did, and I found myself being hurled against the wall. My back smacked against the stone, robbing me of my breath.

Then Master was in my face, his teeth gritted hard. “Bitch,” he snarled, and released my hair to wrap his hand around the front of my throat. I struggled to breathe as he squeezed his hand tightly. Moving his face to mine, he bit out, “Bitch whore. Another unfaithful bitch whore.”

I instinctively clawed at his hands. The second my nails dug into his skin, Master let go of my arm, keeping me in place by the hand on my neck. He sliced the back of his hand across my face. I had tried to move with the hit, but Master’s other hand kept me still.

His dark eyes were wild as he glared at me. As he landed another smack across my face, I knew this was it. I had disobeyed the ruler of my life.

A life I knew he was going to take.

Leaning in closer, he spat, “You chose that savage animal over me!” His hand moved to my core and I closed my eyes. He used his hand on my throat to hit my head against the stone until my eyes opened again. When he knew he had my attention, he cupped my center harshly, then withdrew his hand and wiped it across the skin on my stomach.

Releasing my neck, he gripped my hair again and commenced dragging me down the hallway. The farther we got, the darker it became. We didn’t walk for long before we came to a stop. Master opened a large metal door and threw me inside. He slammed the door behind us.

I forced myself to sit up, and when I did, I wished that I hadn’t. I ranged my eyes around the room. It was empty but for two large beams that had ropes tied to them. And on the far wall were tools. Lots and lots of tools.

I felt Master close in behind me. Without speaking, he lifted me off the floor by my arm. I tried to protest when I saw he was taking me to the posts. Master dropped me in the center of the two masts and walked over to the first and took hold of the rope. My stomach fell when he walked back to me and tied a loop around my wrist. Master pulled hard on the rope until it tightened on my wrist. I cried out as the rope cut into my skin.

He didn’t even flinch as he did the same with the rope on my right. He stepped back when he had attached them to my wrists. My hair was in front of my eyes, shielding me from his cold stare. But then the ropes pulled. They pulled so tightly that my body lifted up until only my tiptoes touched the floor. My arms were held high, suspended by the ropes.

I bit down on my tongue to stop my cries. The taste of coppery blood filled my mouth.

“Look up, slut,” Master commanded. Forcing my head up, I could see Master glaring at me from a few feet away. My hair still covered my eyes, but I could see his rigid stance, I could see flashes of his fuming face. Annoyed by this, Master stepped forward and pushed my hair back until I could see him clearly.

He had taken off his jacket and vest. He had removed his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His expression was severe as he glowered at me. His eyes tracked over my body. He shook his head. “So much potential,” he muttered, and stepped away. I watched as he walked to the wall of tools and removed a leather lash. As he turned to me, he snapped it between his hands. The loud echo ricocheted around the bare room. Master stopped before me, making sure his words hit home.

Master took the end of the lash and ran it across my torso. “I sacrificed my High Mona to make 901 yield to me. To become the most ruthless champion there ever was. He would fight to get you back. You are a mona, a trained whore, your talents would make him fall in time. Fall hard.”

He moved the lash to run over my lips. “But I never expected you to fall for him. I am Master of the pit. I created this world. I created you.” The anger radiated off him in waves. “Why would you want him, an animal that knows nothing but killing, when you had me?” Master stilled. “My last High Mona chose a fighter, too. She fell for the animal that I had commanded to take her. Then she disobeyed my order of never seeing him again and crawled back to his cell.”

His eyes were wild with rage and he drew back the lash. I watched it as he placed it at his side. “Just like you,” he said coldly. “Just like you disobeyed me.” Master stepped forward. Lifting his hand, he gently caressed my face. I flinched, expecting him to be cruel. But he wasn’t; he was gentle and kind. His voice softened and he asked, “Why, petal? Why him?”

My lips trembled as I pictured Ilya’s face in my mind. My heart swelled at the mercy thought of his smile and touch. My lips wore a small smile, and I said, “Because we are the same. With him I am someone. With me, he is someone, too. We make each other strong.”

Master didn’t move. A dark eyebrow rose at my answer, then he laughed. He laughed loud and true. He laughed in my face. My skin prickled as he sobered. Then, after a kiss to my cheek, he said, “You are not someone, pretty petal. You are a mona. I own you. My people took you from being someone, if you can call being an orphan someone, and I put you to use. But I own you, make no mistake about that. Just like I own him. On your own you are nothing; together you are nothing.” Master shook his head in amusement. But I could see his ire at my choice of Ilya over him. It was killing him inside.

As I stared at Master, as I felt the ropes digging into my wrists, I knew this was it for me. I knew I would not come out of this alive. I knew he would murder Ilya, too. I didn’t know how, but he would find a way to kill him in the final. It was two days away.

Knowing I had nothing left to lose, I found the courage to say, “There was no part of being with you that I enjoyed. You are a cruel and evil male. If you were to go toe-to-toe with any of the so-called animals you have created, they would tear you apart in seconds. They don’t hide behind Wraiths and guns. They don’t need the heavy drugs; your champions prove that. You sit on your throne, making me grovel at your feet. In reality, you should be the one groveling for every life you have taken or sullied in this pit you call your empire. What the rest of us call hell.”

My lips curled in distain. “I don’t remember my life above the ground, but whatever it was, if it was good or bad, at least it would have been mine. I would have chosen my own path. And I would never have chosen a male like you. Your touch is repulsive to me. You are repulsive.” I made sure I had his attention, and spat, “You, Master, are not worthy of me. It was never the other way around.”

Master glared. I wasn’t sure what he would do, how he would react. Then a smile pulled on his mouth, but it wasn’t a good kind of smile. It was cruel. It was a smile he wore when he ordered someone’s death.

Master’s nose stroked down my cheek. “You may have had a choice aboveground, petal. But you would have always been a whore. Every woman is a whore. I just make sure there are no mind games with my monebi. They serve and they get fucked … the only thing they are good for.”

Master stepped back, his hand tightening on the lash’s handle. “I saw you, petal. I saw you watching 901 as he trained. I saw the look in your eyes. And I saw it with the scarred mutant the New Yorkers brought in. I saw you watch him too, and him watch you.” He tapped his temple. “I stored it all away. Just in case you betrayed me, I kept note.” He shook his head with incredulity. “901 is a champion. An animal, but a champion. The scarred fighter, 194? I don’t understand the appeal of him, but you clearly did.”