Just as I tried to think what this sensation was, 901 lifted his head. “I feel different.” He pulled his arm from under mine. He placed his hand over his chest and said, “In my heart. It feels different. Changed.”

My stomach flipped knowing he was feeling this, too. Taking in a much-needed breath, I asked, “Does it feel light, like at any moment it might combust?” 901 nodded his head, his understanding expression telling me I had described it completely correct.

“What is it?” he asked, lines of confusion creasing on his forehead.

Following what my heart was telling me to say, I replied, “I think it means we have found a peace within each other’s arms. I think it means…” I trailed off, unsure if it was the right word to use.

“What?” he pushed. “Tell me.”

Combing my hand through his hair, just so I could touch him once more, I nervously said, “Happy?” I lost my breath when 901 stilled. Finding the last of my courage, I added, “I think it means we are … happy.”

901 froze, then with watery eyes, he repeated. “Happy. Together, we make happiness.”

I smiled. I smiled freely and uncaged. And when 901 moved beside me and wrapped me in his strong arms, I fell asleep with my hand over his chest, with the heady feeling of this newfound happiness in my heart.

11

LUKA

Undisclosed Location

Georgia

Eastern Europe

My leg bounced as the plane began its descent. Viktor was at the front of the plane getting the documents in order. Abel, his contact, had come through for him. Zaal and Valentine sat opposite me. Zaal was the picture of calm as he sat stoically in his seat. Valentin was the complete opposite. His eyes were wild and his body twitched like he was still on the drugs they’d pumped into our bodies for so many years.

Over the past few weeks, Valentin had thrown himself into the practice of death-match fighting. His focus was solely on using his rage to his advantage. As he had promised, his skill with the unpowered picanas was astounding. His strength and ability to kill with efficiency were no less than Zaal’s and mine. But the best part of Valentin’s arsenal was his unwavering belief and drive to get his sister back. That desire would override any lack of training he might have in combat. As an Ubiytsa, his ability to kill was unrivaled. He would be fine.

Seeing the land of Georgia coming into view from Kirill’s private plane, I leaned forward, Valentin and Zaal meeting my eyes. Placing my hand on the table between us, I asked, “You’re sure you’re clear with the plan?”

Zaal nodded, and Valentin spat out, “Yes.”

Needing to make sure, I said, “Viktor is the manager of a New York gulag. Not the Volkovs. Abel has already approved us without question, so to Master we are simply another underground fight ring. Nothing of importance.” Zaal and Valentin listened hard. “I am the ultimate champion, retrieved from escape.” A rush of sadness spread in my chest. I was using what had happened to Anri in my story. It was plausible. Clearing my throat, I pointed at Zaal. “You were bought from the Volkov Russians. You were too feral and untamed. Viktor bought you to fight in his gulag.”

Zaal nodded.

I next pointed to Valentin. “After your collar malfunctioned, you killed Mistress and her Wraiths. You have no memory of this. One of the Wraiths survived and knew of Viktor’s gulag. He sold you and fled the U.S.”

Valentin’s lip curled in disgust, but he nodded. Keeping his attention, I said, “We’ve talked this through a thousand times, but if and when you see your sister, you mustn’t react. Hold yourself together until the opportunity to strike arrives. If she is still alive after all this time, she will survive for a further few days.”

“Then the Master is mine,” he growled, and I nodded in agreement.

“Then he is yours. But for that to happen, you must stick to the plan. If one of us fucks up and reveals who we truly are, they will kill us on the spot.”

A sudden flash of fear passed over Valentin’s face. “I can’t leave my Zoya,” he said, an almost gentle edge to his harsh-sounding voice. It was strange hearing such sentiment from such a brutal male.

Zaal lifted his hand and put it on Valentin’s shoulder. A peace had settled between them over the past few weeks. Zaal had seen himself as Valentin trained in the cage. He was fighting for his sister’s return, just as Zaal had fought so hard for his. “We won’t fuck up. We will destroy this place, then return home to our females.”

Valentin’s wide shoulders relaxed. Kisa’s tearful face entered my head. Her good-bye to me this morning. Zaal, Talia, Valentin, and Zoya had arrived at my father’s house to leave for the airfield. From the night I told Kisa what I was to do, she had said nothing in response. She knew I had to do this. It didn’t mean I couldn’t see the terror and concern every time she looked at me over the past few weeks.

She held my hand longer, she kissed me softer, and she made love to me every chance she got. I glanced down at my hand, and I could still feel her kiss on my palm as I said good-bye to her this morning. Talia and Zoya had proved themselves to be just as strong as my wife. They had supported their males. If this all went according to plan, after this battle there would be no more war to fight.

Blinking away the memory and emotion on Kisa’s face, I looked to my brothers and said, “We will win. There is no other choice.”

“And the fourth warrior in the champion round?” Zaal questioned.

“He gets on board or we take him out first. Whatever we have to do.” My hands clenched into fists on the table, and the old surge of adrenaline flooded my veins. “We will kill many. That includes fighters that are too far gone or any that stand in our way. We do not give second chances, we do not hesitate to strike those that try to stop us. We kill quickly. We kill without mercy.”

Zaal and Valentin nodded.

I sat back in my seat as the plane descended. “How far is the pit from the airfield?” I asked Valentin.

“No more than twenty minutes,” Valentin replied. “The airfield is Arziani’s. Wraiths will guide our van to the loading door.”

Nodding, I reached for the hem of my sweater and pulled it over my head. When my bare torso was on display, I retrieved my worn but trusted knuckle-dusters from my bag. I stared at the metal, felt the bladed tips with my finger to make sure they were sharp. When a bud of blood formed on my finger, I felt the excitement of being back in this place spark inside me. The old Raze stirring inside, waking from the sleep I had kept him in for months.