The Trader by Jaden Wilkes

Author:Jaden Wilkes [Wilkes, Jaden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jaden Wilkes

The crowd was insane.

They were wild.

They wanted blood, they had paid their money, and they were going to get it.

Dimitri’s body circled around the cage carefully weighing his fourth opponent of the night.

He was the Beast of Tangier now, Ilya’s perfect killing machine and it had only taken his brother less than a month of relentless psychological and physical torture to get him that way.

Sometimes when he was left alone in the dark, he dreamt of Columbia.

And sometimes even during the daily torture sessions, when he reached his physical limits and was about to black out, he thought he heard the flutter of dove’s wings.

Somewhere in his mind it triggered memories of a beautiful woman covered in scars, full of love for him and writhing at the end of his cock.

His Little Dove.

But he was never left alone with his thoughts long enough to fully flesh out her memory.

Always he was dragged back, either when they lifted his head out of the water and let him breathe…or when they slapped him and shone bright lights in his face to force him awake.

The cocktail of drugs they injected multiple times a day had slowly burned away his humanity. Each needle full had left less and less of him inside, until his consciousness was no more than a kernel at the centre of his head.

He was just the suggestion of a man now, incomplete and inconsequential unless he was fighting for his master. His brother.

The Trader.

“Beast! Beast! Beast!” the crowd chanted and he felt adrenaline and amphetamines surge through his blood.

Injuries from his previous bouts were ignored as the drugs took over and left him demented with rage.

“Beast! Beast! Beast!”

Their chants were like a heartbeat, the cold machine pumping blood through his body like oil through an engine.

He looked his opponent up and down and curled his lip, like The Trader, like their father had before them.

The man was huge, a tanned Slav from the Czech Republic. He had narrowed eyes and jet black hair and elaborate tattoos encircling his arms and legs.

The Beast looked down at his own arms and found the inked design of the dove with fluttering wings and the word, “Columbia,” intertwined with the vines in its mouth there.

For half a heartbeat he heard the wings flutter and he remembered her crying out his name in pleasure.

But his opponent’s fist in his face cancelled that memory out and he looked up and spat a mouthful of blood and teeth to the dirt floor.

The crowd went wild, they knew what would happen next.

Chances were they’d seen it happen over and over in the week or so The Beast had been the star of the fighting pits.

The Beast lost his mind, red like blood clouded his vision and he had only one thought in his head.

Destroy.

The other man took another chance at punching The Beast, but The Beast dodged it easily.

As the other man’s fist swept past, The Beast reached up and grabbed his wrist, twisted and snapped the man’s forearm like a dried twig.

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