Miron
Luka points the barrel of his gun at me. There’s no way I saw this coming.
I’ve played his game and beat him at it, but Luka is a sore fucking loser. That’s something I have known for years.
“You won’t be leaving with her, Miron.” He cocks the gun. “I will take her from you.”
I stare down the barrel, wishing I’d been more prepared for something like this. My gun is strapped to my leg, not exactly easy to reach discreetly.
The click of another gun’s cock being pulled sets my nerves on edge until I hear my pakhan’s voice. “Like hell you will, Luka.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Andrei and Vera, each with a gun pointed at him.
“This man broke bratva code when he stole his own pakhan’s daughter.” Luka’s eyes narrow. “Are you saying you stand by his actions?”
Sofia steps forward. “Miron didn’t steal me. I went of my own free will.
I escaped you,” she spits.
“It sounds like your claim is unfounded. You came to me and asked me to offer Miron this option-to win Sofia in a game of your choosing.” Andrei steps forward. “He’s won. You have no claim on your daughter anymore.”
Luka’s hand slips into the inner pocket of his jacket.
Several guns are cocked around us. Luka brought a lot of the brotherhood here to back him up. They’ve come into Andrei’s territory armed. If they’re not careful, we’re about to find ourselves in the center of a full-blown war. Luka may be stupid, but I didn’t think he was insane.
“Are you declaring war on me?” Andrei asks, not even moving to glance behind him.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you I’ll be leaving here with Miron and Sofia. I will do with them what I want.”
Andrei laughs dryly. “You are telling me, but you are in my territory.” He signals with his right hand and his men step forward, drawing their guns. “Not to mention, Miron was inducted to my brotherhood earlier today.” He steps toward me, reaching for my right arm.
I know what he intends to do, reveal the seal I had tattooed over my old Romanov bratva seal. Luka can’t touch me, not without declaring war.
Luka stands to his feet. “I challenge Miron to a fistfight for her.”
Fuck.
If I refuse, I’ll look like a coward in front of my new brothers. Luka has grown slow and overweight ever since he settled into his position, but he’s a brutal fighter.
Despite being a good fighter, the blood and gore wasn’t my scene, and Luka knows it. The smug smirk on his face tells me that much.
“Miron, do you accept Luka’s challenge?”
Luka can think again if he believes I won’t fight. When I told Sofia I’d die before I let them take her back, I meant it. I glance at Sofia and she shakes her head. She wants me to refuse, but I can’t. If I’m going to be respected in Andrei’s brotherhood then I have to accept. “I do.”
“Luka, stand down your men now.”
He gives the nod, and they all decock their pistols, stowing them away.
The tension is still cloaking the room. Everyone is on edge.
“Both of you will fight outside. We can’t ruin the interior of this yacht,” Andrei says.
Sofia runs over to me, grabbing my hand. “Please don’t do this,” she says.
I cup her cheeks in my hands, kissing her chastely. “I have to, Kiska. It would be dishonorable to refuse.”
Tears gather in her eyes as she tries to clutch onto me.
I prise her fingers from me and hold them in my hands. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” I shrug my jacket from my shoulders and pass it into her hands. “Keep it safe for me.”
She nods her head as a stray tear trickles down her cheek.
I wipe it from her face. “Don’t cry.” I force myself to turn away from her.
Sofia doesn’t want me to fight, and I almost don’t want to for her. It hurts me to see her so upset over something I’m doing.
Luka is standing in place, waiting for me. His shirt rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tattoos. I do the same, rolling each of my shirt sleeves up.
Andrei steps forward. “No rules. Fight until one of you can’t keep going.” He glances at me. “May the best man win.”
I give him a short nod, before turning my attention to Luka. He holds his hands up and ready.
I don’t like to fight, but Luka doesn’t know the real reason. He doesn’t know how brutal I can be. He doesn’t know that I’ve killed many men with my bare hands before we met, all before I was twenty-five years old.
I hold my fists up in front of my face, and he starts to dance around in front of me. I watch his every movement, tracking every step he takes.
My mind quiets. My body relaxes. It feels like the last time. Fighting is more natural to me than breathing, and that’s why I don’t do it. I hate that I’m built for the brutality and violence.
I step forward, jabbing my fist into his jaw hard.
His head jerks back, and he stumbles slightly. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunts.
He has no idea what I’ve got. I’m sick and twisted. When I get in a fight and lose control, the blood becomes my best friend. It’s as if I’m thirsty for it.
I jab at him again, busting open his lip with my bare fists.
Luka brings a hand up to his mouth, pressing his fingers to the wound. Blood paints his skin. “Sofia is a fucking whore, and I will sell her into the sex trade like one,” he spits, moving his legs faster in an attempt to evade me. “I’m sure the Colombians would take her.”
He’s making a grave mistake, threatening me with this. Every goading word just makes me more furious, and fury is dangerous for him.
He jabs at me, but he’s too slow. I dodge his fist and step forward into his space, leading with my right arm. My fist connects with his cheek, striking him. A gash opens, and blood streaks down his face. The hunger for inflicting pain deepens.
He takes a step back, retreating from me, but I’m relentless. I follow him, and I’m quicker. This time I land two punches, hitting him first in the jaw and then the throat.
He holds his throat with wide eyes. My fist connects with the center of his gut, winding him. He falls to his knees, gasping for air. I can’t stop. The anger and rage inside of me building and mounting beyond anything I’ve felt before.
I unleash my fury, punching him over and over again.
Everyone screams as a gunshot rings out. A bullet flies inches past my face-it breaks me from my violent outburst as I glance down at Luka’s bloodied face. Then, I search for where the bullet came from. Yerik is glaring at me, pointing his gun at me.
Idiot.
He’s never been a great shot, and he tried to shoot me. Before I can even reach for my gun, Andrei shoots him. The bullet hits him right between the eyes, killing him.
Sofia’s eyes widen, and I see the pain in them. Yerik was terrible to her, but her heart is too fucking big. He was her brother, and she still feels grief and mourns his loss.
Luka wails, launching himself from the floor. His eye is busted shut, and blood drips down his chin, as he dashes toward Yerik’s lifeless body.
Twenty years ago, we were best friends, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for him. He brought this on himself. He wouldn’t let go of Sofia, even though I’m better for her than Dima. We’re made for each other.
Even so, I didn’t see this coming. Luka knew Andrei would be in attendance, and he decided to attack us anyway.
Luka was never going to let me walk out with Sofia without a fight. This was always his plan. He may have hoped he’d win her fair and square, but if he didn’t, he’d kill us both anyway. He made a grave mistake and didn’t foresee his son and future heir’s death.
I swallow hard as I wonder what Sofia made of my outburst of uncontrolled fury. She’s seen me shoot guys pursing us or punch a guy here or there, but I lost my shit.
She probably thinks of me as the older man who is always in control. A man who can be her stable protector, but I’m far from stable. I’m a lose fucking canon. She deserves someone better, but I couldn’t ever imagine letting her go. Sofia is mine and only mine.