Page 6
Story: Devotion
Brotherhood of the Wolf, to be more accurate. And although I am sworn in blood, I doubt they’ll ever completely accept me since I’m an outsider.
I guess I’ll see once I get out and present myself to the big boss.
Speaking of which…
“Tell me again what happens after I make it to the gate?”
“We make it to gate. Someone from Volk will be waiting to take you home.”
“Home. You say it like it’s your home.”
“It is. Same for you now.”
“Not what I meant. Why are you always so cagey about your life before we met?”
“Right, because you spill beans about Diamante family history all of time, no?”
“Hey! You actually used that phrase right—Ow!” His fist numbs my shoulder. “And keep it down! I kept my fucking mouth shut about my past in here because there’s always someonelistening!”
I hiss out the last bit, annoyed that he used my last name.
Not that it’s a secret.
But it doesn’t do me any favors. A lot of the branches of the Russian mob hate my family.
With good reason, apparently.
“Heads up, guard coming for us.”
“Oh goody! One last baton to the back of the knees, I hope!”
I slap on my Shakal grin as the two brick shithouses in full riot gear step into our common area, making a beeline right for us. Not that I really like playing the role, but…
Doesn’t hurt anything bein’ careful.
Never know what the Jackal might do to you if you evenlookat him wrong. And it actually kind of works. Even with the guards.
My buddy narrows his eyes, slowing down warily as he approaches me.
“Hands on head!” he barks in Russian, pointing his billy club at my skull.
“Zastav’ menya,” I chuckle, sneering.
And oh, does he evermake me.
A gloved hand snatches my wrist, wrenching it around and kicking out my knee, driving me to the ground. The sting of the cold cement rings through my kneecaps in that sweet, familiar way. Like the way stubbing your toe feels. Every. Single. Time.
Never gets any more fun.
But it’s all part of the show.
Can’t break character as long as I’m in these walls. It’s the only thing keeping half the population ill at ease enough to not swarm my ass and tear me apart. I’m honestly lucky as fuck.
Or maybe they’re all way more scared of the Volk’s influence here.
Apparently, my new family is the most brutal in the country as far as retaliation goes. Sounds like a blast. Harassment and hazing are all fair game, but you kill one of us?
Let’s just say the only time it happened while I was here, three of the KrestBratva thugs got skewered and posted out on the outer wall. Not sure what killed them first, the bleeding or the cold.
I guess I’ll see once I get out and present myself to the big boss.
Speaking of which…
“Tell me again what happens after I make it to the gate?”
“We make it to gate. Someone from Volk will be waiting to take you home.”
“Home. You say it like it’s your home.”
“It is. Same for you now.”
“Not what I meant. Why are you always so cagey about your life before we met?”
“Right, because you spill beans about Diamante family history all of time, no?”
“Hey! You actually used that phrase right—Ow!” His fist numbs my shoulder. “And keep it down! I kept my fucking mouth shut about my past in here because there’s always someonelistening!”
I hiss out the last bit, annoyed that he used my last name.
Not that it’s a secret.
But it doesn’t do me any favors. A lot of the branches of the Russian mob hate my family.
With good reason, apparently.
“Heads up, guard coming for us.”
“Oh goody! One last baton to the back of the knees, I hope!”
I slap on my Shakal grin as the two brick shithouses in full riot gear step into our common area, making a beeline right for us. Not that I really like playing the role, but…
Doesn’t hurt anything bein’ careful.
Never know what the Jackal might do to you if you evenlookat him wrong. And it actually kind of works. Even with the guards.
My buddy narrows his eyes, slowing down warily as he approaches me.
“Hands on head!” he barks in Russian, pointing his billy club at my skull.
“Zastav’ menya,” I chuckle, sneering.
And oh, does he evermake me.
A gloved hand snatches my wrist, wrenching it around and kicking out my knee, driving me to the ground. The sting of the cold cement rings through my kneecaps in that sweet, familiar way. Like the way stubbing your toe feels. Every. Single. Time.
Never gets any more fun.
But it’s all part of the show.
Can’t break character as long as I’m in these walls. It’s the only thing keeping half the population ill at ease enough to not swarm my ass and tear me apart. I’m honestly lucky as fuck.
Or maybe they’re all way more scared of the Volk’s influence here.
Apparently, my new family is the most brutal in the country as far as retaliation goes. Sounds like a blast. Harassment and hazing are all fair game, but you kill one of us?
Let’s just say the only time it happened while I was here, three of the KrestBratva thugs got skewered and posted out on the outer wall. Not sure what killed them first, the bleeding or the cold.
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