Viktor stared just that second too long, telling me everything I needed to know.
“Everybody in the Gulag had heard of Raze.” His eyes dropped and he pointed to my chest. “Of… you. Everyone believed you were the meanest son of a bitch out of all the death cages.”
Reaching down, I hauled him to his feet, his drunken eyes losing focus. I didn’t give a shit what he’d done in his past. He could train champions. All I needed was for him to get me to the final… against Durov.
“Then you’ll train me. You’ll train me to kill Durov.”
Viktor glanced away, a strange look on his face. “I can’t create any more death. I can’t deal with how many kids I turned over to those sick fucks. Can’t deal with how many kids I got killed, training teens to be monsters. I’m fucking broken because of it.”
I shook him and his neck lolled back. Then I made him meet my eyes again.
“I don’t give a shit about your conscience. There’s no pussying out of this life. We kill. And you’ll add one more death to your bloodied hands: Durov’s. I won’t stop until he’s bleeding out from his throat. I won’t stop until he breathes his last breath, knowing it was me who sent him to hell. Then you can go and drink until your liver rots. I couldn’t give a fuck. But you will train me. You will make me win.”
“Why? Why is Durov so important? What’s his history with you, if you’ve been in the Gulag all your life?”
Viktor’s face wore a strange expression. Was he holding something back? But he looked away and the expression was gone. “Not that I’m complaining. The asshole is evil. The way he treats Kisa is disgusting. But why the hell is it so important to you to kill him?”
My mind clouded over; it always did when I thought too hard about revenge on Durov. Somehow Durov’s name was there in my conscience, a beacon shining red, telling me he had to die. “I don’t know why or how he did it. All I have is the need for revenge on Alik Durov. But I do know he took everything from me. I can feel it. I sense it. I just know he has to die. And I have to win. Nothing else matters to me but that.”
Viktor’s chin dropped, and as I released him to the ground, he ran his hand down his face. “Okay. I’ll train you. But you’re the last one. Fuck, maybe you’ll be my redemption. Finally righting what I’ve helped make wrong all those years.”
I didn’t care what the fuck he was talking about, what demons he fought. He was just a drunken fool. But I was going to defeat Durov if it was the last thing I ever did. And Viktor was going to get me there.
A hard knock sounded on the door, and a voice called, “Raze! You’re up!”
Viktor squared his shoulders as I slipped on my knuckledusters, rolling my neck to loosen up my muscles. I breathed in Kisa’s lingering scent, and it gave me the strength, the adrenaline kick to awaken my muscles.
Viktor opened the door and we went outside, storming down the tunnel like a fucking tornado coming to raze anything its path. I could hear the sound of stamping feet echoing off the cold walls. The tunnel was dark, but soon a light appeared, showing me the mouth of The Dungeon. The Dungeon that would help me carry out my vengeance.
Viktor glanced back at me as we approached. “Your opponent is new, unskilled, the Chechen Viper. He’s a sadistic murderer picked up by the Chechens to fight in exchange for keeping him from the Feds. Viper uses a bladed chain, so stay low, strike his torso, his vital organs, when he withdraws to swing the chain. Aim for a quick kill. No showboating. Make it quick and simple. Shock and awe, stun the crowd. Make the other fighters fear your efficiency. You do that, it’s a less-than-a-minute match. You’ll have shooed yourself in as the one to beat. The Bratva’s new star and a potential opponent for Durov. You only have a couple of fights to win to get to the final. Keep that in mind because Durov will always make the final.”
I drank in what Viktor said, taking note, locking the information down. I cracked my knuckles and cracked my neck, prepping for the fight. A nervous excitement surged through my legs and stomach, causing me to bounce on my toes, readying me for the addictive feel of fist hitting flesh, for getting in the ring and spilling blood. My pulse thumped as I visualized the first hit, the spray of my opponent’s blood on my chest, the crack of his bone under my feet. I would take down this animal, slaughter him and cut him up like meat.
Viktor slapped his hand on my face and my bulging eyes met his. “You’re Raze. You’re death. Let’s fucking RAZE HELL!”
Growling through my teeth, my pumped-up traps tensed, and with a determined focus, I stormed down the walkway to the cage, running up the steps and into the arena. The animal I was sent to kill paced the other side. I knew with one look this fucker killed for kicks, scraped off the street, no training in fighting to the death.