Every word Zaal said hit my heart. I turned to Viktor. “When is the tournament?”

“Four weeks,” he replied, “It lasts four days. Two-man matches until four fighters reach the final. No man will be paired with a gulag-mate unless they meet in the final. Then it’s a four-man battle for the championship. Winner gets his freedom. Arziani’s tournament prize is freedom.” I raised my eyebrow at that. Freedom for males captured and forced to fight would make them fight that much harder. It would make them that much more difficult to beat.

“We all need to make it into the final battle,” I said, and looked to Valentin and Zaal. They both nodded. “We can use the next few weeks to understand the pit and plan how to attack.” I looked back to Viktor and said, “Contact your male. We need to be sure we have them as our allies, then use their influence when we’re in there with those not committed to Arziani and his cause. Promise them whatever they want. Money, a life here in New York, anything, just get us into the Blood Pit. We’ll take it from there.”

Viktor nodded and rushed out the Dungeon’s door. Zaal and Valentin came to stand beside me. Zaal laid his hand on my shoulder. When I met his eyes, he nodded his head, no words were necessary. I could see the conflict haunting his eyes—as much as I could feel my own.

We were different males now. Had different lives. Yet at the same time, until Arziani—the puppet master of our personal hells—was dead, we would always be the same captured males we had been for most of our lives. We would be forever imprisoned by our pasts. We would never truly move on.

Addressing Valentin, I said, “We need to use the four weeks to train you.” I then spoke to Zaal. “We need to train ourselves again, too. Ask Viktor to get us ready. We have no choice but to come back to our females. To do that we need to defeat every fighter that gets in our way. It’s the only way we can go—we go to win.”

Zaal held out his hand and I shook it. Valentin did the same. As we looked to one another, a surge of excitement welled up in my heart. In four weeks’ time, for four days, I would once again be Raze.

I had missed being Raze. I had missed and craved the blood I would shed. For two weeks, I could be the gulag champion again; then I would forever leave him in the past.

Turning on my heel, I jumped from the cage, and my father stepped in my path. Kirill fell in behind him, a look of serious concern on his face. But it was my papa to whom I gave my attention. The sad yet stubborn expression on his face was hard to ignore.

“I won’t allow it,” he said, and shook his head. “Your mama and Kisa won’t want this, Luka. What the hell are you thinking?”

Glancing down to the floor, I then looked back and said, “How many more kids are in gulags around the world? How many are stolen from group homes or the streets and being forced to fight?” I held on to my father’s arm and said, “How many papas are searching for their lost sons? Not knowing, never believing they could be under the control of some fucked-up psychopath who has a delusion of being a sadistic Caesar from ancient Rome?” My father paled, but I kept going. “It’s not over, Papa. Even though I’ve been back here in New York with you, Kirill, Mama, Talia, and Kisa, I’ve never been fully present.”

I searched for a way to make him understand. Kisa’s face filled my mind’s eye. I pictured my hand on her stomach, which punctured a hole in my heart when our baby had kicked. Pushing the lump from my throat, I said, “Kisa is due to have our baby soon. I can’t live in a world with my child while being haunted by the past. To be the father I want to be, the father you are, I need to end this once and for all. The Arziani empire must fall. And I must be the one to do it.” This time I looked to Kirill and said, “To be the Pakhan of our Bratva, I have to rid myself of all the pain I still carry with me. Arziani is the root of all of this evil. He’s the snake. And I’m going to rip off his fucking head.”

“Luka,” my papa rasped, and placed his hand on the nape of my neck. He brought my forehead to his and said, “I’m proud of you, son. But I cannot rest until you have taken this bastard down and returned home safe. For good this time.”

“Thank you,” I hushed back. Lifting my head, I met his worried gaze and said, “I’m Raze. I’m the champion. I don’t lose.” I thought of my beautiful wife and our child. I thought of Zaal and Talia, Valentin and Zoya, and I knew I wouldn’t fail. This was my family now. And we would all survive. We had to, there was no other choice.

Kirill walked around my father and kissed my head. He didn’t speak, but I didn’t need words to see the pride on his face. Kirill had been the Pakhan for decades. He knew that leaders sometimes had to sacrifice a part of themselves for the greater good. And killing Arziani was for the greater good.

I had four weeks to recall and embrace the savage killer I had pushed down deep.

As I made my way home, I flexed my hands, staring at the fingers that would soon be reacquainted with the bladed knuckle-dusters they knew so well.

And with every mile driven toward my home, the identity tattoo on my chest burned hotter and hotter. 818 was breaking back through, pushing Luka Tolstoi aside.

Temporarily, I had to embrace the monster within.

I’d let him take the reins.

Then when I arrived at the Blood Pit, I’d let him unleash hell.

For one very last time.

Before I laid him to rest, for good.

9

901

Two weeks later …

I stood in the center of my cell, waiting for my time to be called. Tonight was the first show fight Master had planned for his tournament investors. He had told me over the past two weeks that these matches were important to secure money for the spectators. He impressed on me that these investors will gamble on the fighters, and some more important bosses might enter their own.

And he had told me in no uncertain terms that I was to take my time with my opponents. Draw out the kill. Obey his every command. He even offered me a bribe: If I did as he instructed, he would continue sending 152 to me every night.

This was exactly why I intended to kill my opponent in three seconds flat.

My gut clenched as I thought of the past two weeks. Then I thought of what my nights would become after tonight. She’d be gone. It was what I needed. Though I was starting to think it wasn’t what I wanted.