“You’ve got this, Sasha!” Maksim’s voice comes from behind me.
I look in his direction and give him a thumbs-up. Yuri, who’s standing by his side, doesn’t have the same encouraging expression.
He shakes his head at me as if telling me to give up. That no one here can take on Kirill. But that’s the thing. I just refuse to give up.
“Again.” There’s a harshness in Kirill’s tone this time. More than usual.
When I go for him, he all but sends me flying across the ring. A collective “Ahh” comes from my colleagues as pain explodes all over my side.
Shit.
“Again.”
I try to stand up on unsteady feet, but even I am aware that I can barely stay upright. Fighting and landing punches is impossible. We’ve been going at this for so long and my fist has never connected with any part of his body, let alone his face.
Hell, he doesn’t even look tired or like he’s exerted any amount of energy.
Damn it. This is so embarrassing.
“Sir, you can’t go inside.” Viktor’s urgent voice booms through the space.
I’m not sure if I should be alarmed or thankful for the interruption. Aside from when Rulan and his men died, I haven’t sensed an air of urgency like I do right now.
Even Kirill, who didn’t change his expression the entire time he was beating me up for sport, grows taller, more imposing, and larger than life. I take a peek at the newcomer while catching my breath.
It’s none other than Damien. All alone.
As Maksim outlined, it’s virtually impossible to find any of the Bratva leaders on their own. One, assassination attempts are real.
Two, they generally don’t want to die.
Three, and most importantly, having bodyguards is the most logical and secure thing to do.
I’m starting to really believe that Damien has a screw loose somewhere, because he’s solo. I doubt Viktor and the others could’ve stopped his guards if they’d come along. Usually, bodyguards, especially the inner-circle ones, are ready to die for their bosses.
Damien spins around to face Viktor. “You. Stop following me like a fucking lost puppy before I kick you.”
Viktor doesn’t reply, but he looks at Kirill. “I’m sorry, Boss. I couldn’t stop him.”
“Blah fucking blah.” Damien slides in front of Kirill, wearing a manic grin. “Hi, motherfucker.”
“Care to explain the reason behind your unwanted presence?” Kirill asks point-blank.
“Now I understand who taught your guards their sense of hospitality. I must say, zero out of five, strongly fucking not recommended.”
“Still doesn’t answer my question.”
Damien pushes me out of the way. “You, pretty boy, get out of here.”
Did he just call me a pretty boy…?
Kirill doesn’t move, but it’s almost as if he grows more intimidating with his harsh eyes alone. When he speaks, though, he sounds absolutely collected. “Damien. You have exactly three seconds to tell me why you’re here before I throw you out. One…three.”
Damien grins and widens his eyes. “Why else? To fight. of course.”
“What makes you think I want to waste my time fighting you?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You were fighting with the useless pretty boy who can’t pull a punch to save his fucking life, and you call fighting me a waste of time? What the, and I can’t stress this enough, fucking fuck are you on about?”