“Come on!” Alik hissed at me. “Let’s finish this shit.” Alik’s words were slurred. I stared at his face and just felt numb.
“Alik, get it the fuck together!” I glanced to the side of the cage to the man who was shouting and instantly had a flashback.
Alik’s papa; Abram Durov.
My lip curled in anger and I looked across the crowd, the men chanting at me to kill Durov. They all knew I had the upper hand. They wanted me to spill blood.
And then movement from higher up caught my attention, and my gaze immediately slammed on a woman stood behind a huge glass window. She was badly beaten. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, something making me stare… and then my heart fell.
Kisa.
Whipping my head to look at Alik, he had followed my gaze and his eyes bugged when he saw Kisa stood at the glass.
Without pause, I ran at Alik and swept his legs with my feet. He fell to the ground, but used the movement to stab his dagger straight into my thigh.
Roaring out in pain, I turned, flipping his body, twisted my leg around his and locked him a chokehold, his arms unable to strike.
“You did that to her?” I growled and I saw Alik smirk as looked down. I tightened my hold, his face growing red.
“I’m going to make her pay,” he threatened. “When I kill you, she’ll be sorry. I’m going to break her.” And that was enough to break me. He’d threatened my Kisa.
I was done.
Done with it all.
Using my legs to roll Alik, I straddled his waste and let the pent up aggression I’d been holding for years fill my muscles. Alik lifted his dagger and sunk the blade into my calf, but I clenched my fists and began punching at his face, the spikes from my knuckledusters slicing at his skin, mangling his features.
Screaming out in rage, I couldn’t stop, fueled even further by the volume of the bloodthirsty crowd. Hands were shaking the wire of the cage, testing its strength. Abram was screaming for the fight to be stopped, but I was caught in the bloodlust. Alik’s breathing slowed, his body jerked and my fists froze in the air as I started to see him dying underneath me.
I expected relief. I expected to feel whole again… but seeing him breathing his last made me feel nothing… absolutely nothing…
“Do it,” Alik whispered, his eyes, although losing life, still taunting, still as fucking as crazed as they had always been.
Glancing up to Kisa at the window, I could see tears streaming down her cheeks and I knew I had to save her. I had to protect her.
She was mine. I wanted to have her again.
I wanted to be me again…
Tightening my fists, I lifted them above my head, turned them inward and, on a final shout, ran my bladed fists right into his chest… and straight into his heart.
Alik gurgled on his own blood, his eyes blazing fire, until they stilled and glazed over…
Durov was dead.
Removing my fists, I slumped my shoulders, my heart racing too fast and my breath coming too hard.
The crowd exploded, the volume almost deafening. The cage began to rock and I saw the Byki pushing through the crowd, making a pathway, butting men with their guns and firing warning shots into the air.
The place was lifting, the atmosphere charged with the excitement of the crowd. I’d killed the reining champion.
A lot of money had just been lost.
And I felt none of it, just stayed staring at his corpse. The sure win had just been slaughtered.
Durov’s still-warm body was bleeding out as memories flooded my mind like a torrent. Me as a child, Rodion… and Kisa… my Kisa. Always with me, stroking my hair, kissing me, reading to me…
Suddenly, the cage door flew open and Abram pounded in, dropping to his knees to look at his son dead on the floor, shock and pain etched all over his face. A path suddenly appeared through the crowd, another man leading the way.
Jumping off Alik’s body, I got to my feet, legs apart and fists clenched bracing for the punishment for killing their number one fighter… the Bratva heir. I’d fight my way out of here if I had to, slaughter them all. And I’d be taking Kisa with me.
A man with long gray hair entered the cage, two Byki following behind, who ran straight to Abram and wrenched him up off the floor. Abram was too numb to fight, still staring at his slain son on the cage floor.
As he looked at his son, he appeared dead too.
The man with gray hair approached me, his eyes assessing. Every muscle tensed to strike, my head lowered and I clicked my fingers, reforming them back into fists.
The man held out his hands, placating, and confusion trembled through my body. My head tilted to the side and my eyes narrowed.