The City: A Novella Collection (Volkov Bratva Book 4) by London Miller

Author:London Miller [Miller, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LM Books
Published: 2017-10-20T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Spectators stood around the gate, spittle raining from their mouths as they cheered on the bloody battle on the other side, two fighters trying their best to survive the night. Even when blood sprayed, the smell of copper scenting the air, no one minded. They thrived on the gore.

And yet, Valon couldn’t hear any of it, the blood rushing in his ears too loud. Fear had taken hold of him since he’d returned to the barn, and after a fitful night of sleep, spent mostly imagining the horrors he would face in the Pit, he was exhausted. But with the adrenaline coursing through him, at this moment, he couldn’t sleep even if he tried.

With a hand on his shoulder, Gjarper led him through the crowds, his hulking presence giving them easy passage. He hadn’t spoken a word to him since his ominous warning the night before, but from his expression, Valon didn’t think that he was any happier about this than he was.

But that could have just been wishful thinking on his part.

They stopped next to a line of boys, both older and younger than Valon, who were all waiting their turn in the Pit. None looked eager to face their opponent, and judging from the bruises already present, this wouldn’t be their first time.

Valon, shaking with fear, watched the end of the current fight, momentarily frozen—or transfixed—by the sheer amount of blood present. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, coupled with sweat and anticipation.

There were only two in the center of the dirt floor—Valon had heard of there being more once—and only one was left standing, dark blood dripping from his mouth and at least a couple of his teeth missing. As the crowd cheered, he stumbled on his feet, almost seemed drunk as he stared down at the boy who lay in a heap, unmoving. He didn’t cheer his victory, but a dark gleam in his eyes burned itself into Valon’s mind.

Six more fights, each bloodier than the last, went on before Valon found himself at the front of the line. He was trembling so badly that he garnered the attention of the handler at the front who was waiting for his cue. Noticing Valon’s fear, he smirked, revealing two rows of silver capped teeth. Though he didn’t mean to, Valon shrank back, wishing there was a way out of this for him.

A bell sounded from a distance, but he could hardly hear it with the blood rushing in his ears. He could just see Bastian sitting high above the crowd, a glass of expensive liquor no doubt clutched in his right hand. His gaze shot to Valon, and when they locked, he smiled cruelly, moving to his feet.

“Fresh meat,” he called to the crowd, riling them up further. “And his opponent…”

A boy, at least six years older than Valon, stepped into the Pit, shirtless, and unlike the rest of the boys who had been brought forward before him, he looked eager for this.

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