Page 31 of Bratva Menace

2:01.

“Two minutes left! Free-for⁠—”

I was already moving, ducking underneath the ropes, Illayana hot on my heels. Aleksandr did the same from the other end, Arturo only a step behind him.

Autumn and Drea were trading blows. Aleksandr and Illayana ran for each other at the same time as Arturo and I did. We clashed like a pair of raging bulls and locked into a grapple. By skill and, okay, I’ll admit, a smidgen of good luck, I managed to wind my arm underneath his and thrust forward, bending his limb at an odd angle. Arturo cried out in pain. I punched him in the stomach, once, twice, three times, a pain-filled grunt falling from his lips every time, and then finished it off with a front kick to his chest.

He flew back, landing in a heap in front of the ropes. With a fancy, kung-fu kind of bullshit move, he flipped himself back up and glared at me, rage simmering in his multicolored eyes.

He charged.

I kept my body loose. Waiting…waiting…He raised his fist, preparing to strike.

Illayana was on my left. I yanked her in front of me. Arturo came to a screeching halt, his fist freezing in the air an inch away from Illayana’s jaw, his face panicked and full of distress.

I popped my head around Illayana’s body. “Heh, Heh,” I teased, then struck him in the side of the head with a high kick.

Arturo’s eyes rolled back, and he went down like a house of cards.

Booyah.

“Lukyan!” Illayana whined, pushing away from me and running right on over to her poor little unconscious husband.

Both would be down for the count.

A hard body rammed into me. I went flying, landing harshly on my shoulder blade, but I used the momentum from the attack to push myself back up and onto my feet in one quick, flawless—yet slightly painful—move.

I spun.

Aleksandr stood before me, all big and broody and downright fucking murderous. I wasn’t a small dude, by any means, but my big brother fucking dwarfed me.

Despite that, though, as we stared each other down, I felt good. Like it might be my fucking day to finally beat his ass.

“That was cheating, Lukyan,” he chastised, crossing his arms. His chest expanded from the fucking movement alone.

The big brute.

I smirked, watching him closely. “You heard Father at the start of the match. No rules, remember?”

He grunted, cracking his knuckles. “That shit won’t work on me.”

Won’t it?

I looked over his shoulder, dropping my face in mask horror. It was so good, so believable, I almost bought it myself for a second.

“Oh my god! Drea!”

Panic flashed across Aleksandr’s face for a microsecond before he spun around. I ran up and kicked him in the balls from behind. He choked, a tiny, barely audible whimper falling from his lips as he dropped to his knees, hands cupping his privates.

I locked him in a choke hold, my arms wrapping around his neck, and squeezed with every ounce of strength I possessed. The crowd screamed so loudly it hurt my ears.

Aleksandr fought me, trying to find some way to pry me off him, but I was locked in. There was no getting out.

“I’m—going—to—fucking—kill you,” he rasped, struggling hard.

Yeaaaaah, he probably would.

Would be worth it, though.