Free Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Book 0) by London Miller

around—no one dared tell him otherwise—she was kept locked in his room whenever he left, and even when he was there, she still sat in the same spot on the floor, bundled under a sheet. As the temperatures were steadily decreasing, Valon frowned at the sight of her there, knowing from experience how cold those floors could get.
    But she didn’t know what he had done to earn this bed, a luxury that most people even older than him took for granted. Some nights, he woke up delirious, the feel of the bedding on his skin like the blood of those he faced in the Pit. Maybe it was their close proximity, or the fact that up until this point, he had done her no harm, but while the moon still hung heavy in the sky, the house quiet for the time being, Valon shot awake once again, sweat bracketing on his skin.
    He tried to see clearly, scrubbing a hand down his face, but the more he tried to calm himself, the more he sunk deeper into the nightmare that was slowly seeping into his reality. He couldn’t think, he could hardly breathe as face after face flashed through his mind on a continuous loop, forcing him to confront memories he wasn’t ready to deal with.
    A hand came down on his shoulder, startling the hell out of him. Without taking a moment to see who the person was, Valon had a hold on their wrist, yanking them off balance. Springing from the bed, he had a hand around their throat before they could even take a breath, dropping them to the floor, using his full weight to keep whomever it was pinned there.
    He could feel them struggling to breathe beneath his hold, nails scoring down his arm for purchase as they struggled to get free. It was only then did anything penetrate his fog. None of the men he knew had long nails, nor were their hands this small.
    He repeatedly blinked , the image of the girl coming into focus, her face bright red from her lack of oxygen. He jerked his hand away, still staring at her as she took in deep breaths, coughing as she choked, her hands flying to her own neck as if she could still feel the phantom weight of his own.
    Valon frowned down at her, not because she was making a lot of noise—noise that would probably wake up others—but because a foreign sensation raced through him, one he hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages.
    “Sorry.”
    As soon as he’d uttered the apology, Valon could see the surprise on her face as she finally got her breathing under control. Considering he had barely spoken ten words to her in the short time she had been with him, he could understand why his apology for hurting her was met with this reaction. Undoubtedly, she had heard about who he was and what he did while she was being transported here by Bastian or whoever had brought her. She’d looked frightened enough, and he was glad for it, but now, he just wanted her gone.
    He got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. She gazed at it warily, and then after a few seconds, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
    He let her go a second later, looking away as he tried to fight past an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time.
    Embarrassment.
    Valon never had to worry about someone witnessing his night terrors as no one bothered him during the wee hours of the night.
    Except for this girl.
    “Do you speak?” he asked angrily, scrubbing a hand down his face as he walked to the bathroom and turned the light on. He didn’t realize that she was watching his every move until after he’d splashed his face with water and came back out. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    It would be just like Bastian to find an American girl and bring her here. If she didn’t understand what they were saying, then she couldn’t provide information to anyone who asked. And even if she could vocalize something she saw , she wouldn’t live long enough to see the outside of this place.
    “M-My name is E-Elena,” she said in English, her speech hesitant.
    His mother had taught him the language,