Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)

C
opyright
© 2016 by London Miller

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V
olkov
Bratva

In the Beginning

Until the End

The Final Hour

Time Stood Still

Valor: What Once Was

Hidden Monsters

F
or Kris
.

Where would I be without you.

“
T
his is fucking torture
.”

Holding her hand a bit tighter as he hurried them across the street, Niklaus Volkov smiled at his girlfriend, Sarah Buchannan, narrowly missing being hit by a speeding car, its horn still blaring as it continued down the street. Less than thirty-six hours ago, they had boarded a plane to New York, leaving behind the sunny beaches of Florida for the cold, frostbitten streets of Manhattan.

While he might have preferred the sun on his face and a surfboard under his arm, Niklaus didn’t mind the cold, if only because he wanted to make Sarah happy. He was cool with having his balls freeze off—glad for once that he was finally able to give her something she had always wanted.

When they had met, it hadn’t been love at first sight, not even second. She had been head cheerleader at their high school, spending most of her time around a similar crowd. Niklaus, on the other hand, hadn’t even ranked on the social ladder. As the son of a Russian immigrant working long hours scrubbing toilets for the very people he went to school with, they never let him forget his place down at the bottom.

Was he ashamed of his mother? Absolutely not.

Did they try to
make
him feel that way every chance they got? All the fucking time.

He learned rather quickly that though they ran their mouths constantly, bullying him in a way that only entitled, rich kids could, they weren’t quite as skilled with their fists. And that was one thing he was definitely good at.

Fighting was all he had known after growing up in a rough neighborhood before moving to one that was just a step above it. That skill might have protected him, but it had also nearly prevented him from graduating with his class since the principal had been one step away from expelling him. One day, for reasons only she knew at the time, Sarah had stepped up and put an end to it, making sure that the jocks gave him space.

At first he’d been angry at her interference, not wanting someone like her to come to his defense. He couldn't be sure what kind of game she'd been playing—
if
she was playing one. And despite how he treated her, and he had been downright cruel at times, she had continued to be nice to him until he finally let his guard down.

It hadn’t taken long before he realized she was different. Soon their unexpected friendship had turned into something more.

Hatred had turned to acceptance.

Acceptance had turned to attraction.

From the attraction bloomed a relationship that Niklaus never could have fathomed. From the moment she became his girlfriend, Sarah became his world.

He had wanted to show her that he could be more than just the ‘help’ as so many viewed him. Even after they graduated and she had gone off to Florida State, while he chose to stay back in their hometown, working backbreaking construction to help his mother around the house, their bond had never broken.

It was no secret Sarah’s family was far better off than Niklaus’—even if this was never voiced aloud—so instead, he gave her little things money couldn’t buy.

He had gone to see her every other weekend just because. And when he had made her a locket by hand, carefully working on each little detail until it was just right, she had cried after he gave it to her as if it was the best thing in the world.

But even if it wasn’t,
she
had made it feel that way.

Niklaus knew she was the girl he was going to marry, and knowing this, he wanted to make the proposal special. So for two years, he had saved every last spare penny, planning their trip to the one place she had always wanted to visit. He had barely slept in that time, working overtime to the point that his boss had to force him to go home.

It had all been worth it.

She skipped ahead of him, arms outstretched as she tried to catch the falling snow on her tongue. This was the happiest he had ever seen her.

And he had done that. He had put that smile on her face.

His hand drifted down to his pocket once more, feeling the indentation the ring box had made, he let the familiarity of it soothe him. Thoughts of how he would propose had plagued him all night, but he still hadn’t found the
right
moment to get down on one knee and just ask.

Sensing his gaze, Sarah turned back to look at him, her smile growing wider, blonde hair like a halo around her face, “How could this be torture? It’s beautiful out here.”

Yeah, but he was used to seventy-degree winter days, not the negatives that they had up north. Even wearing a Henley, a hoodie, and a leather jacket—one that she had bought for him because ‘it looked good on him’—he was still freezing.

He shrugged, still smiling. “You’re easily impressed. That’s all.”

“Oh, stop being so cynical, Niklaus. Breathe in this cold, refreshing air and enjoy the moment.”

She ended on a yelp as she went sliding on a patch of black ice, nearly colliding with the ground before he caught her, pulling her back against him. He laughed at her expression. “I’m enjoying you. That’s all that matters.”

Gifting him with the softest of smiles, she leaned up to kiss him, her lips like a brand on their own. It ended all too soon as she righted herself. Twining their fingers once more, they continued down the darkened street with little fear.

Looking around, she asked, “Do you even know where we are?”

Niklaus dug out the street map he’d picked up after they had left the metro station, figuring it would be a good idea to find their way back to it. Even with the muted glow of the street lamps, it was hard to make anything out.

“We can’t be far from the station now, right? We’ve been walking for a while,” she said looking around them. “Maybe we can ask someone…” But there weren’t many people out at this time of the night.

“Let’s just call a cab. We can add that to our list of experiences—lost in the big city.”

Reaching the end of the block they were on, Niklaus dug through his pocket for his old, beat-up phone, hunting through his contacts for the phone number he had saved for the cab company they had taken from the airport. A woman answered on the fifth ring, and after giving her the street name they were standing under from the sign above them, he nodded at her answer and hung up.

“They’ll have somebody here in fifteen minutes.”

Sarah nodded at his answer, and when he noticed her slight shivers, he drew her back into his embrace, resting his chin on top of her head. She smelled of cinnamon and apples, probably from whatever holiday shampoo she was using.

“Hopefully you don’t freeze to death by then,” she whispered playfully, laughing when he tugged her hair.

Niklaus didn’t know how long they stood there, enjoying the silence of the night when he noticed the van pass them by. There wasn’t anything particularly notable about it, but this had been the third time he’d seen it pass by.

It was the logo of the clowns and bowling pins that stuck out to him.

He fucking hated clowns.

He didn’t mention this to Sarah right away, because while he was suspicious by nature, she liked to call him paranoid.

But it wasn’t paranoia. Niklaus just didn’t believe in coincidences.

Despite standing beneath the light, Niklaus didn’t like that they were out in the open. “Come on,” he urged her, scanning the street once more for any sign of the van, but it had already disappeared around another corner. “Let’s sit over here and get out of the snow.”

At least then they wouldn’t be in plain view.

Of course, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, so she dutifully followed his lead, oblivious to the sliver of anxiety that was steadily climbing up his spine. Before they could even make it a couple of steps, the van came screeching around the corner, the squeal of its tires growing louder as it sped towards them.

This time, Sarah noticed it, but Niklaus knew it was too late.

“Niklaus, why—”

He moved her behind him, even as he walked them backwards, watching the van screech to a halt, the side panel sliding open, two men in masks jumping out.

“Run,” he warned as he turned and pushed her forward, staying in place instead of following behind, wanting to give her a head start. She did what he asked without argument, taking off in the opposite direction, screaming for help.

Niklaus didn’t attempt to run, knowing that at the very least, they would have to get through him to get to her, and by the time they did, hopefully she would be long gone, or someone would have come around trying to see what the commotion was all about.

But…it almost felt like this wasn’t about robbing them as their attention seemed solely focused on him. From what he could tell, they had hardly looked in her direction.

When the one in front charged him, Niklaus swung out a fist, landing a solid punch to the man’s jaw that sent him flying back and cursing in a language Niklaus didn’t understand. The man recovered quickly enough, charging towards him like a bull, ramming his shoulder into Niklaus’ stomach, sending them both to the ground.

Niklaus had had enough practice fending off idiotic football players not to let this man get the best of him, but as he grappled with the man, he forgot all about the other one that was hovering nearby observing.

“Niklaus!”

Forgetting all about the two that were on him, Niklaus’ attention shot to Sarah as a gorilla of a man caught her, dragging her back to the idling van. He didn’t care what happened to him, but he couldn’t let her get hurt.

But just as he got free of the one that had taken him to the ground, the second came out of nowhere and struck him, sending him back to the ground, his vision blurring. He felt like he’d been hit by a cinderblock, his head bouncing off the concrete so hard he saw stars.

Niklaus was dazed, could almost hear Sarah yelling his name again, but before he could latch onto it, a shadowy figure loomed over him, and the last thing he saw before blackness stole him was a booted foot coming down at his face.

J
olted
awake by rough hands strapping him to a chair, Niklaus renewed his struggles, but there was hardly anything he could do to ward off what was happening now that his ankles were secured to the legs of the chairs with zip-ties, and his wrists were next. More than that, a headache pounded away in his head, the wound to the back of his skull throbbing in time.

He would have continued to fight if not for the soft whimpering across from him. He stilled immediately, jerking his head in every direction, trying to shake off the musty smelling black bag that covered his face.

It was only after his wrists were tied down did someone remove it.

Squinting from the sudden light hurting his eyes, he blinked repeatedly, waiting for his eyes to adjust as he searched the room for Sarah. As she came into focus, he almost wished he hadn’t.

She was bound, very much like he was, but while he could feel where his lips were cut, and knew from the tightness of his face that it too was bruised, seeing her this way made him ashamed that he hadn’t fought harder, protected her from this.

Tear tracks were stark against her tan cheeks, her eyes wide with fear. A cloth was tied around her mouth, preventing her from speaking, but everything she could have wanted to say was reflected in her face.

Why hadn’t he warned her sooner? Why hadn’t he told her not to wait for him, to save herself?

Yet, while regret weighed heavily on his heart, his attention was stolen by the men entering the room, joining the two that were already inside still wearing masks.

The latest arrivals didn’t bother with them. Trepidation filled Niklaus at what this might mean. He might not have known for sure, but he doubted that these men would allow them to see their faces if they weren’t planning to kill them.

Niklaus tried to make out their faces, hoping that some kind of recognition would hit him--he needed to understand why they had been targeted. His boss down at the construction site in Florida was not always on the right side of the law when it came to his business—not that anyone really cared since he was a pretty decent guy who got the job done—but Niklaus couldn’t imagine that he would be involved with these kind of men.

They seemed too…powerful.

One stood out amongst the others, wearing a long black coat, a suit of charcoal gray beneath it. His eyes were cold, lips turned down in a deep frown, and much like the other men, there was an air of menace that surrounded him. He was obviously the leader, radiating an authority that the others lacked.

“You did well,” he said.

Niklaus could only guess which of the two masked men he was speaking to, but he watched as the pair approached him, one a shade more eager than the other. This one ripped off his mask, his sweat-dampened hair sticking to his forehead, eyes feverish with a hunger that made Niklaus’ stomach turn.

“It was nothing.”

The other, and if Niklaus had to wager, the one that had gotten the best of him, remained off to the side, as if he wasn’t completely a part of this group, and yet was. He reached for his own mask, drawing it up over his face, and unlike the others, his hair wasn’t dark, nor were his eyes the same obsidian colors as most of the others. No, his hair was blond and slightly curly, reaching below his ears, and his eyes were a bright shade of blue.

There were so many emotions in the eyes of the men in this room, from impassiveness to downright excitement—but this one? His were empty.

There was nothing there, and Niklaus sensed if there was one person he should fear, it was him.

He looked like a man that didn’t care whether he live or died.

“Were you seen?”

“Nope,” said the eager one. “They were alone—didn’t even have his guards on him.”

For a moment, the man looked doubtful. “How sure are you of this?”

While the eager one opened his mouth, ready to answer, the man turned to the blond instead, his brows raising as he awaited an answer. Niklaus didn’t miss the eager one losing his manic smile, or that a flash of irritation sparked in his eyes, but as quickly it had formed, it was gone again.

With his arms folded across his chest, the blond glanced over at Niklaus before returning his gaze to his boss. “They were alone. Surprising, considering who he is.”

Who he was?

Was he supposed to be alone?

Those words seemed to be enough for the man. Snapping his fingers, he gestured for another of his lackeys to wheel in a tray from across the room as he shed his coat and suit jacket, passing them off.

“I am Jetmir Besnik of the Besnik family, but I am sure you already know this.”

No, Niklaus had never heard of the man, or whatever family he was talking about, but he didn’t get the opportunity to tell him before the man was speaking again.

“You possess information that I need. If you tell me, I will release you and your lady friend here. If you do not, I will
force
you to tell me.” His gaze shifted to Sarah whose eyes widened in fear. “By any means necessary. Have you anything to say?”

Swallowing his fear, Niklaus’ eyes darted around the room. “I don’t know who you think I am, but if this is about money, I’ll give you everything I have. We—”

Jetmir sighed, shaking his head as though disappointed, but Niklaus was too confused to do anything more than protest, not even when Jetmir reached for a pair of knives sitting on the tray. Turning them over in his hands, he stepped forward, so close that Niklaus couldn’t help but breathe in the strong scent of his cologne.

“Please,” Jetmir dsid with the slightest of smiles. “I will enjoy this more if you make it difficult for me.”

Niklaus didn’t get the chance to think of a response before a scream of pain ripped free from his mouth as Jetmir stabbed the first knife into the left side of his chest, just beneath his collar bone.

He felt the blade ripping through skin and muscle, but no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t escape the agony and managed to add to it as the ties binding his wrists dug deeper into his flesh.

But before he could recover from the first, Jetmir plunged the second knife parallel to the first.

“Bleed for what you believe in,” he said in a low voice. “By the end of your time with me, you’ll die for it as well.”

Panting, Niklaus watched as Jetmir took his leave, along with a few others, but three remained.

The one that had taken Sarah.

The one he had fought with.

And the blond.

It was him, Niklaus knew, that he needed to remain wary of. Because it was to him that Jetmir had given a meaningful look before he disappeared out of the room.

Jetmir hadn’t been gone more than a couple of minutes before Niklaus was cut free and dragged from the chair before his wrists were rebound, and this time, he was hung from a hook in the ceiling.

Sarah was whimpering softly, but as his gaze was to the cold, damp wall in front of him, he could only hear what was happening around him. There was the rattle of the cart, the flicker of a flame igniting, and the men speaking in their native tongue behind him. That only made it worse, having to hear everything, but seeing nothing.

Someone walked behind him, hesitated a second, then Niklaus flinched away from the cold blade that was slipped beneath his shirt, cutting through the material with ease, the sides draping open though the shirt remained in place because of the knives in his chest. He tried to breathe through his panic, wishing once again that he knew something,
anything
that could get him and Sarah out of this place.

But the men at his back were eager to get started, drawing the blade across his skin in a painful line. Niklaus hissed, but didn’t cry out…not yet.

Blond hair snared his attention as the one that moved like a ghost leaned against the wall so that he had a clear view of his face. He was the one holding the knife that was now dripping with Niklaus’ blood.

“Tell them what they want to know,” he ordered quietly, like his words were only meant for him to hear.

Tell
them
? As though he had no part in this?

Niklaus looked from him, to the wall, and back again as he tried to think of an answer, one that was the correct one to a question he didn’t know.

It dawned on him that Jetmir hadn’t given him any information to actually provide an answer for. He was beginning to believe that this was not about answers at all.

That thought made his heart hammer harder, but his lack of an answer made the blond move out of sight again.

Not even seconds later, the sharp sting of his parting flesh had Niklaus trying to get free, and as the blond dug in deeper this time, he finally cried out.

“Do you have an answer?” the blond asked, this time loud enough for them all to hear.

His breaths ragged, Niklaus whispered a plea he knew would fall on deaf ears, his own just barely picking up the sound of Sarah’s distress.

But that was nothing compared to the noise he made as the blond rhythmically, and quite patiently, took his knife to Niklaus’ back and began to really work.

“
L
eave him be
, Valon.
”

Valon…Niklaus repeated that name over and over to himself as awareness crept back in. Now, finally, he had a name to put with the blond.

Valon fell into his line of vision, blocking out some of the sunlight streaming in through the windows on either sides of the room.

He didn’t dare try to move, hours of agony had taught him very quickly that any tiny alteration in the way he hung caused the shredded muscle along his back to flare to life once more.

Still as vacant and unfeeling as before, Valon said, “Tell them what they want to know.”

He had been steadily working his way across Niklaus’ back, starting at the tops of his shoulders, carving long, fluid lines down to the small of his back. Unlike his counterpart—who seemed to enjoy Niklaus’ pain a little too much—Valon rarely made any noise at all, and didn’t give any indication as to whether or not this thrilled him.

Had he been in this place so long that he had begun to hope that it was Valon torturing him as opposed to the other? Was he choosing between two levels of pain?

Time passed in waves. He could no longer tell what day it was, or how long he had suffered under the onslaught of torture, but through it all, Niklaus
was
thankful that all their attention seemed to be focused solely on him. Sarah mostly had to watch him suffer, it was far better than her being hung alongside him.

“Still don’t want to talk?” Valon’s associate called out. “Then we’ll try something new.”

New?

What more could they do to him that hadn’t already been done? But even as his mind ran wild with possibilities—even as he fought the darkness that threatened to pull him under—he heard it.

Sarah’s whimper.

Fighting to keep his eyes open, to stay conscious, Niklaus shook his head, weakly, trying to force his head around. “Don’t…don’t touch her.”

But his words were as weak as his body.

He tried to stay conscious.

He
needed
to, for her sake.

But even as he heard the sound of ripping fabric…the sound of Sarah screaming behind her gag…he was sucked right back under.

A
t some point
, Niklaus had been moved, transferred from the hook back to his chair. It felt like he had lost another day, drifting in and out of consciousness. His stomach ached with hunger, his mouth terribly dry, but those baser needs were the last things on his mind as the agony of his wounds kept his full attention—he had grown to ignore the knives still imbedded in his flesh.

He was lost, stuck in a place where he was just slightly aware of his surroundings, but immune to the pain he was in, at least until a bucket of cold water was thrown on him, bringing him back to focus.

The pain came rushing back almost instantly, enough to nearly take his breath away, sparking over every nerve-ending until he was gritting his pain to get through it. Valon dropped the bucket and moved back.

“Your time is up,” Jetmir announced as he crossed the room, his first time back in this place since Niklaus was brought in.

Though Niklaus wasn’t looking at him, he knew the man carried something heavy, the liquid inside sloshing around before the container was set down. Once Jetmir was beside him, he fisted Niklaus’ hair, forcing his head up, and with the action, Niklaus finally saw Sarah.

The sight of her was worse than anything they could have ever done to him.

She was bruised all over in varying shades of healing. Gone was the beautiful girl that had been laughing with joy as they explored the city, replaced by someone he hardly recognized. Makeup was smeared all over her face, her clothes gone, leaving her stark naked, and though he wished he hadn’t, Niklaus’ eyes zeroed in on the blood coating her thighs.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

She hung her head, never once looking at him, but he thought he saw a tear drop onto her leg.

“I have given you ample opportunity—more than if we are being honest—to tell me of your business and the men you intend to meet in a few days’ time, but you have continued to defy me. To what end, only you can know. Perhaps it is the Russian way?” Jetmir released his hold on Niklaus. “What more must be done before you break?”

Blinking more water from his eyes, Niklaus looked to him, noticing the black lighter he held in his left hand, an engraving he couldn’t make out on its onyx casing. A sliver of anxiety shot through Niklaus each time Jetmir flipped the top back, igniting the flame to flicker in the darkness of the room. He had long since stopped begging, knowing that he would never get out of the room alive. But he had never stopped begging for Sarah…at least from what he could remember before his body gave out on him.

“Tell me what I want to know,” Jetmir said, his tone soothing for once, the same request that had been demanded of Niklaus since entered this place.

No matter how vehemently Niklaus denied any knowledge of what they were talking about, none of them were convinced he was not the person they sought.