I had made to move toward the back door when the blinding pain came back. Dropping to my knees, I gripped my head. The pair of brown eyes flashed at me. I gasped for breath as the name Kostava again circled in my head.
I had to capture or kill Kostava, but I loved a Kostava, too? I didn’t understand; my mind swam with dark fog. My skull ached, and pushing to my feet, I swayed. I hit the side of my head, my vision clearing to see stone steps that rose to the back door.
Kostava.
I silently ran up the steps. Seeing people sitting in a room through the glass, I scanned their faces. Three women, four men. Then my body cooled when it recognized Zaal Kostava as the one standing just beyond the door.
Sweat began to pour down my face, my skin too hot. My legs too weak. My mind too heavy. Just as my foot smashed through the door, the brown eyes filled my head. But this time they were crying; my heart ached in my chest. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her because she was mine.
I had to kill Kostava to get her back.
Plowing forward, I ran straight into Zaal Kostava just as he turned to look my way. I slammed into his body, bringing him to the floor. My fist flew into his face, my hard punches colliding with his jaw.
I heard women screaming. I heard men shouting orders. As I was about to deliver another blow, rage taking hold, I was flipped onto my back, a strong fist immediately striking my face. The hits rained down until I kicked out my legs. I moved to get to my feet, but the blinding pain came back. I clutched at my head; the pain ripped through my fucking skull. Then a face flashed in my head, but this time the face stayed.
“Valentin,” she whispered softly, and I held out my hand for her to take.
“Zoya,” I growled, trying to touch her face. “Kotyonok,” I whispered back, and I saw her smile.
Rough hands grabbed at my arms and pulled back my hood. I blinked at the flood of light. I looked up to see the bloodied face of Zaal Kostava staring back.
“Kostava,” I slurred. “Zoya’s brother.”
“Zoya? My Zoya? Where’s Zoya?” the man pushed before another man came into view.
I tried to meet their eyes, but my vision began to blur. “Capture or kill Kostava,” I rasped, and pulled at my neck’s metal collar. I pulled and pulled until I felt blood trickle down my neck. I couldn’t remember why I needed this gone. I simply knew that I had to rip the collar off. Mistress’s voice came to me once more, and I whispered, “Capture and retrieve—alive or dead.”
Then my body failed to move and the room spun into a black hole.
I heard low voices in the background, but I couldn’t open my eyes. My head felt heavy. My memory was shattered in pieces.
The voices came nearer, and when they did I heard they were speaking Russian.
Russian?
I hadn’t heard Russian since I was in the orphanage.
Or since Zoya.
Zoya!
The thought of Zoya had my body arching, trying to get free, but my hands and feet were tied down.
I fought and fought, until I forced my eyes to open. My breath came out in short pants and my body was hot, sweat dripping down my face. My vision was blurred. I blinked until my eyes cleared. As clear vision returned, I found I was in a house, in what looked like a living room. I turned my head, trying to track the voices, but when I moved my neck pain seized my throat. I hissed at the pain, and anger asserted its grip.
I shook with the rage burning through my blood. I fought to remember what the hell had happened. Splintered memories floated to the surface—Mistress finding us in the chamber, cages, being locked away, Tasers, Zoya being tied to a bed, Mistress tying me to a pole, attaching a collar, a command to kill …
“Fuck!” I roared, and thrashed in the seat, desperate to get free. Feet came running into the room. I looked up to see a blond woman staring down at me. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was raw.
She ran out of the room. I heard voices, then several pairs of feet entering the room afterward. My hands had balled into fists when suddenly two men stood before me.
I traced the height of these males from their feet to their heads. I blinked, somehow knowing I’d seen them before. One man was blond with dark brown eyes. His stare was cold. He was built and looked like he could kill on the spot. But when I looked at the second male, my heart pounded.
Zaal Kostava.
“Kostava,” I managed to rasp out. He was huge, bigger than I’d imagined. I saw his picture in my head, one that Mistress had trained me to memorize. He looked exactly the same. The only difference was his long hair, which was tied back.
Kostava’s green eyes blazed with fury as he stared me down. His face was swollen and his lips were bloodied. I squeezed my eyes shut and remembered storming into the house but having no control of why I attacked. After that my memory was hazy. It never was; I remembered everything. But not this.
“Who are you working for?”
I opened my eyes, and the blond man was speaking to me in Russian.
“You’re Russian?” I managed a reply. His head tilted to the side, and as he stared I asked, “Where am I?” My mind was too slow, information not coming to me fast enough.
“You tell me,” the man bit back.
My focus drifted back to Kostava, and I spoke before I could stop myself. “I was sent for him.”
I tried to catch the reason why in my head. Then I remembered Zoya on the bed. “Zoya,” I gasped, trying to keep hold of the memory before it slipped away again.
This time Kostava slammed his hands on the arms of the chair I was in. “That’s the third time you’ve said her name. Where is she?” His harsh words dripped with venom. But I was just as mad as him.
Zoya was mine.
I owned her.
I had to save her. A dark-haired female huddled in the corner of a cell was the next memory to slam into my mind. I choked on a scream but managed to roar out, “Inessa!”
Kostava stepped back. The male beside him grabbed the hand that was about to plow into my face. I pulled at the ties and demanded, “Untie me … have to save them.” I inhaled and fought the razors slicing my throat apart, stealing my voice. “I have to save them.… From Mistress—”
Both males froze, then looked at each other. Bending down, the blond asked, “Who is Mistress?”
My teeth clenched as he questioned me rather than letting me go. Finally I calmed enough to snap, “The fucking … bitch Georgian … that controls me!”