Turning on my heel, without looking at any of the guards, I tore through the house. I ran down to the basement, the long hallway with lots of doors leading off to isolated rooms. I threw open the doors one by one, empty room after empty room. My eyebrows furrowed when there was no trace of Inessa.

As I sprinted back up the stairs, my blood ran like lava through my body. I searched every floor, every door, every closet, everywhere, but Inessa was nowhere to be found. Seeing the Mafia guards near the exit, I asked, “Are there any buildings out back?”

One of them nodded. “Two small storage sheds.”

Hope sparked in my chest, then quickly faded when I asked, “Did you find anyone in them?”

“No, sir,” one of the guards replied.

Real fear sprouted within me, and feeling the panic I harbored inside coming to the surface, I smashed through the door to the room, immediately finding Mistress on the metal pole. “You!” I spat right in her face.

Mistress’s lips twitched, fighting a smile, and I just knew. I knew the bitch had sent Inessa away.

“You bitch!” I snarled. I threw my head back and thundered out a tortured cry. Unable to contain my anger, I walked to the nearest bed and flipped it on its side, roaring out my rage with every new step. I tore the fucking room apart, the Mafia guards staying well clear.

After I sent my fist into the wall, I turned. My eyes locked on to her plaited leather whip, the one she liked to carry around with her. Grasping it tightly, I walked to where she was tied up. Luka had wrapped the chains around her shoulders and hips, leaving plenty of flesh for me to rip to shreds.

Hands shaking, I went to swing the whip when it suddenly froze in my hand. Mistress was looking at me proudly. She stared at me like I was the greatest creation. Then it hit me: even as she faced her own death, pride shone in her face at the monster she’d created.

Her perfect killing machine.

Her perfect torturer … her prized bringer of death.

My heart pounded hard, the whip tightening in my grip. I wanted to kill her slowly and painfully. I wanted her to suffer, yet I wanted no part of her pride.

I stepped closer, and closer still, until I dropped the whip to the floor, watching Mistress’s face fall, too.

Leaning close, I stopped just before her face. Her dark eyes watched me, and grimacing she spat, “You were always a failure. Even now, given the moment you’ve waited for all your pathetic life, you’re going to fail again!”

“Where is she?” I demanded, ignoring Mistress’s taunts. The look of victory flashed across her ugly face.

“Back with Master,” she muttered happily.

My heart sank. I asked, “When?”

Mistress’s eyes seared mine. Any laughter, any happiness at sending my sister away, fell from Mistress’s face as she bit out, “When you fell for the Georgian Kostava whore. When you stopped doing as I ordered and began fucking her instead, holding her in your arms and calling her your kitten.” Her lip curled in disgust and she spat, “I trained you to be an unfeeling killer. A torturer, an evil beast. And you failed. You’ve failed. You made a fool of me. So I did what you feared most—I sent scared little 152 to the Blood Pit, to be schooled, to be owned by Master in every possible way!” Her dark eyes narrowed until they became slits. “You knew the rules, 194. You broke them. I followed through on the punishment.” Her head cocked to the side. “Tell me, was the taste of your little Georgian’s pussy worth losing your sister for?”

I heard the sound of raw fury from behind me. I knew it came from Zaal. My skin burned with the need to bring this bitch down. Mistress’s face never flinched.

The room was quiet, my anger too strong, until Zaal said, “I need to get Zoya home and to a doctor. If you are coming, just fucking kill her.”

My head whipped to Zaal and the still and pale Zoya in his arms. Urgency took hold. I turned back to Mistress.

Without even looking in her eyes, I lifted my hand and in one quick move snapped her neck. I turned, only catching her body slumping forward in my peripheral vision.

I was a monster, she had that right, but I would no longer be the monster she wanted me to be.

I suddenly fell forward, my body leaning on my fists as I fought to breathe. My body sweated and shook with the reality hitting home—she was dead. Our torturer, mine and Inessa’s captor, was dead.

Then pain filled every cell of my body as I thought of my sister. Adrenaline surged through my body. But I staggered to my feet, only to see Luka and his guards staring at me. I glanced behind to see Zaal staring at me, too, his green eyes tracking my every move. And I saw my Zoya in his arms.

Luka moved forward, reaching out his hand, but I snarled, “No!” and wrenched my arm free. Running to the wall of screens. My hands searched the counter until I found the remote control Mistress always used. Panting for breath, I randomly hit at the buttons until the screens turned on. I searched for Inessa. Then on the far right screen I saw her huddled in the corner of a cage, writhing on the floor with her hands between her legs, her dark hair damp as the pain took its hold. Then a male walked into the room, and I shook my head. “No,” I hissed under my breath.

“Master,” I whispered, and watched as he approached my sister. Inessa’s naked body arched on the floor, and Master dropped before her, crawling over her body. I watched, helpless, as he spread her legs and in one hard thrust slammed himself into her.

Inessa screamed out in relief. I had to avert my eyes. Emptiness and failure spread through my heart. Inessa was already in Georgia. She was already back in the Blood Pit.

My head stayed bowed until I heard the sound of my voice coming from one of the screens, followed by the crackle of my picana and a scream from her throat. “Tell me your name.” My voice sounded cold and unfeeling.

My heart tore when I heard Zoya’s timid voice reply, “Elene Melua. Kazrati, Georgia.”

I heard Zaal. I heard his heavy uncontrolled breathing from behind me. His strong arm hooked around my neck. Zaal Kostava, Lideri of the Kostava Clan, promised, “I am going to kill you, you lying fuck!”

I didn’t fight back. As Zaal threw me to the ground and straddled my chest, I searched for my Zoya. Luka Tolstoi stood in the corner with her in his arms and watched with seething eyes as Zaal began to punch my face. Blood filled my mouth, but I didn’t feel the pain.

“You fucking hurt her!” Zaal roared, and tore at the flesh of my chest with the tip of his sai. As I never took my eyes off Zoya in Tolstoi’s arms, my body began to turn cold. I vaguely saw someone pull Kostava from my body, but by that point it was too late.