Zaal slowly lifted his head and stared at my father. I could see the disbelief on his face that my father had said such words. Zaal didn’t say anything in response.

Seeing him struggling, I sat forward and said, “Let him think on it. In the meantime we can use our resources to find out what we can about these intruders of our territory.”

Kirill nodded his head and stood from his desk. “Then let us go eat; I can smell the dinner drifting in through the door.” Kirill walked out of the office without any other word, my father following behind.

I stood from my chair, but Zaal’s elbows were leaning on his knees, his head cast down. Reaching out, I laid my hand on his shoulder and said, “It may be hard now, but things will get better in time.”

Zaal lifted his head, pushing his long hair from his face. “I feel rage, Luka. I have a rage that sits within me all day and all night. My head is fucked up; faces and images from memories I can’t place keep me up at night. But worse than that, every time I think of my name, of my family’s legacy, I see them all piled up dead against the wall of the house. I see the river of blood running from beneath them as I’m dragged away screaming for my family.” Zaal took a deep breath to calm down and said, “I cannot live with these memories, which being the Lideri would bring. All the Kostavas have died but for me. It is time the Clan dies, too.” Zaal rose to his feet and put his hand on my shoulder. “I am your brother; of that I am sure. And I will stand by your side when you are Pakhan, and now as knyaz. I will honor this family who have saved my life, who took me in and gave me my Talia, and I will move past my old life.” His hand dropped and he turned to leave, but just as he did he looked back and said, “Anri was always the true leader out of us both; you knew him, so I suspect you see this, too. And it is not cowardice that makes me refuse this title of Kostava Lideri, but acceptance of the man Jakhua made me into.” Zaal’s green eyes met mine when he added, “I know you understand this, too. We are both no longer the boys we were when our people knew us. We are freaks, Luka. Freaks.”

Zaal left the room, and I slumped against the desk. I ran my hand through my hair just as the door creaked open. Lifting my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile as my Kisa stood in the doorway, her long skintight black dress showcasing her swollen stomach.

Tilting my head to the side, I smiled at my wife, getting a blinding smile in return. Kisa shut the door and walked forward until she stood before me. My hands immediately went to her hips, and I pulled her close to my chest. Kisa ran her hands through my hair, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. Pulling back, she said, “My papa is talking about you out there. You have definitely pleased him in your meeting.”

Wrapping my arms around Kisa’s waist, I lifted my head for her to press her lips against mine. Kisa didn’t hesitate and crushed her mouth to mine. Lifting my hand, I wrapped it in her hair and pulled her closer still. Kisa broke away on a gasp, and I whispered, “I love you, solnyshko.”

“And I you,” Kisa replied, then added, “You are happier, lyubov moya. You are happier in yourself.”

Nodding my head, I replied, “Because of you. Because you took me as the man I am now.” I dropped my mouth to her bump and kissed her raised stomach. “And because of our baby. I’m gonna be a papa, because of you. The girl I’ve always loved.”

Kisa smiled, but it soon faded. “But Zaal is not happy like us?” I raised my head. “That is why you’re worrying, and pursing your lips in that delicious way that I love.”

My chest warmed as her finger ran across my lips, but I replied, “He is without family.”

“We are his family now,” Kisa said.

I stood, taking her hand. “True, and we need to make sure he knows it,” I said firmly.

Kisa laid her head on my arm. “Spoken like a Pakhan.”

As I led Kisa from the office, I said, “No. That was said as his brother.”

4

ZOYA

The sensation of flying was what hit me first. The pain around my neck was what hit me next. I tried to open my eyes, but when I did I was met only with darkness. Disorientated, I tried to remember what had just happened. Flashes of me being stood in front of a house filtered into my mind. A house in Brooklyn. A house that held Zaal—

I gasped when I remembered someone grabbing me from behind and dragging me into the shadows. I’d fought, but he’d choked me. A cough ripped from my throat when I tried to inhale.

Suddenly arms I hadn’t even realized were holding me tightened and a hand slapped over my mouth. My heart pounded in fear. Avto had gotten it wrong. I hadn’t been safe. Our enemy was very much alive and must have followed me to the house that held Zaal.

Dread raced through me. I had led our enemy to my brother. Would they be going there next?

Even though I was terrified, instinct took over and I thrashed to get free. It was in vain, because as soon as the captor felt me try to get free the arm that was still around my neck tightened until my body went limp. As my consciousness began to fade again, I realized my captor was running with me in his arms. My hood was pulled over my head so I couldn’t see a thing, but I heard my captor. And I was sure it was a man. His breathing was low and heavy. His arm around my neck was thick and unyielding.

His scent filled my nose: spice and musk. I remembered the dark spicy scent enveloping me as my eyes fluttered shut¸ then everything went dark once again.

I woke with cold against my cheek. Instinctively I knew I was in trouble. Something in the back of mind told me that I was in danger. Avto had tried to school me in how to react if I was ever abducted. With my eyes still closed and my body unmoving, I tried desperately to remember those lessons.

Nothing came to mind, save the drive to resist telling anyone anything about who I was. To anyone outside of my people, I was Elene Melua, a poor farm girl from Kazreti, Georgia.

I controlled my breathing when I realized that my hands were shaking like a leaf. I focused on keeping calm. Counting to ten, I slowly opened my eyes. I was met with a dark, black wall.

Taking another breath, I counted a second set of ten and cautiously rolled onto my other side. I studied my surroundings: black walls, black ceilings. No amount of counting could calm me as I realized what type of room I was in.

My lips parted to release a shocked gasp as my wide eyes drank in the contraptions in the room. I could barely understand what they were, but I saw chains hanging from the walls, the ropes suspended from wooden blocks in the ceiling, and there was a metal bed, a crucifix, and masses and masses of other machines littering the black tiled floor. They looked like medieval torture devices, and bile rose in my throat as I lay on the floor of what appeared to be a large metal cage. Thick bars imprisoned me on all sides.