(Zorya)
Tatiana was a stern-looking woman.
Sitting behind a polished desk, she was writing with a golden pen in a diary, with a tight bun at the back of her head and a face carved out of granite.
Her pristine white coat had not a single crease on it.
“She is new.
Might have some experience.
You needed an assistant.” Hadis pointed towards me.
Tatiana’s sharp eyes took me in.
“I did.”
“But don’t forget, she belongs to the Alpha.
When he calls, she goes,” Hadis warned in a grim voice, which had her nodding her head.
“Understood.
You can leave her with me.”
Hadis left, closing the door behind him.
Tatiana placed the golden pen down on the paper and clasped her hands.
“How many years of medical?” She questioned, showing no emotions.
“I completed three years.”
Tatiana reached into a drawer on her desk.
She extracted a bunch of papers stapled together and extended them towards me.
“Complete these questions so I can know your level.”
Stepping forward, I accepted the papers.
She pointed to the other side of her desk and rolled a pen towards me.
Settling down, I began.
A few questions were difficult; some were trick questions, but I managed to answer most of them.
Silence remained between us.
She didn’t speak a word while I attempted the questions.
Completing them, I handed the papers back to her.
She took her time checking them and then glanced in my direction.
“What’s your name?”
The phone on her desk rang before I could answer.
It was an old-style black cord telephone.
I noticed no one had cellphones here.
They took mine and tossed it into the fire back at my village.
She picked up the receiver.
“Dr Tatiana.”
…..
“Understood.”
With a click, she placed the receiver down and focused her attention on me, her hands nearly folded over each other.
A single ring with a blue gemstone rested in her middle finger.
“Zorya!” I answered.
“Zorya, you know how to dress wounds and stitch them up?”
I nodded in answer.
“Find everything in the pharmacy through this door.
Rami will help you.” She pointed to the white door on her left side.
“And go to Vega Canara’s room.
Her slave needs stitching and dressing of his wounds.
”
Vega was the title used for Alpha’s sister.
So it meant Caliath had a sister, and she also realised in this hell hole that she also had slaves.
Was she torturing them?
A wave of hatred ran through me.
I fidgeted with my hands while trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Now, Zorya.
This place doesn’t wait nor does it care for your emotions,” she sternly said, her lips thinning out, and I got out of my chair.
Moving towards the door, Tatiana’s voice halted me in my steps.
“Remember, whatever you see there, it’s none of your business.
Keep your head low.
Do your job and get out of there.”
“I understand, Dr Tatiana.”
Opening the door, I entered the pharmacy.
The cold, chemical sterility and a sharp bite of antiseptic alcohol hit me when I entered the clean, air-conditioned place.
White and sterile, with everything neatly arranged and labelled in white painted cabinets.
This was a medicinal heaven, and I couldn’t help but remain in awe for a second, forgetting all my sorrows.
“May I help you?” A boy almost my age in a white lab uniform sat at the desk, labelling medicine.
He carried a shy smile.
“Yes, I need some supplies,” I informed him of what I needed.
Picking up a cold metallic tray, he began gathering.
“New!” He softly questioned.
I fiddled with my hands.
“Yes!”
“I wish I could say welcome, but how do you welcome someone to hell?” he sorrowfully chuckled more to himself, and I was lost for words.
He handed me the tray along with a white lab coat.
“Be careful.”
I offered a single nod.
Putting on the coat and exited the pharmacy.
Tatiana was waiting for me.
A sentry stood beside her in his snug black leather uniform with the same crest on his chest as the maids had.
The sigil of Caliath’s pack.
A whip and handcuffs hung from his belt.
Built as a warrior one sees in movies.
“Jazian will take you to the room,” Tatiana said uninterestedly, returning to her work.
“Follow me,” Jazian grunted.
Carrying the tray, I obeyed.
This place was like a labyrinth, difficult to keep track of where we were going.
There were security cameras installed on every corner.
Sentries in the same uniform as Jazian had been posted in front of several doors.
The walls were painted grey, dull and boring, carrying a sinister vibe.
Soon we began to descend through high stone stairs, and a distant sound of people cheering hit me.
We reached the ground, and the narrow dark corridor opened into a vast one.
The roars and shouting grew louder, almost ear-splitting.
We again climbed a flight of stairs, and it spread out into an arena with seats on all three sides, jam-packed with excited, raging onlookers.
The scent of sweat and humidity hit me in abundance.
For a second, I was left stunned at the sight that met my eyes.
The “Sunken Pit” lay in front of my eyes, filled with sand and surrounded by a cage of thick black rods.
The yellow spotlights from up ahead made the sand sparkle in the pit.
Two warriors battled it out in the pit.
Both wore only grey sweatpants.
Their naked torsos shimmered from the beads of perspiration and blood oozing out of their wounds.
One held a mace, and the man was built like a barrel, thick and brawny.
His wide face held a visceral expression as he thumped his chest in rage.
Blood oozed from a deep gash on his right cheek.
“Boulder!
Boulder!” The crowd echoed behind him as he raised his mace and nodded his huge head.
Then my gaze shifted to the other warrior and stayed.
Long black hair that grazed his burly shoulders.
The body perfected under strenuous training.
His hair had fallen into his eyes, and I couldn’t clearly see his face from the side.
Unlike the Boulder, this man was not built like a mountain but had an athletic build.
He held a spear in his right hand like Aquaman.
He jumped forward, straightening his spear, exposing his back to me.
Blood trickled down from the wounds.
Both fighters had black collars around their necks.
The crowd roared as the weapons clashed; the heavy grunts pierced the air.
The warrior with the spear moved like lightning, striking the Boulder.
His voice screamed madness; his movements were agile.
Boulder was hit in the stomach and then cut across his face again.
“Arghhh!” The Boulder shouted, trying to swing his mace one last time.
But the lean warrior struck against his hand, sending his weapon flying.
Boulder crashed on the ground with a thud.
The sand particles danced in the air all around him.
The warrior with the spear stood over Boulder’s naked chest.
The edge of his glistening spear was only an inch away from piercing his heart.
“Kill!
Kill!
Kill!” the crowd chanted behind him.
But he stood still, unmoving, only his chest heaving.
“Kill him.
End the fight,” an authoritative female voice spoke from above me, and my head turned to watch who had spoken.