Page 92

I’m not a big drinker, but when Cenzo gets me a beer, I eagerly slug some of it back before peeling off my shirt. I turn and catch sight of Adrik across the ring, similarly shirtless, sipping from a bottle of vodka. The light from the bonfire flickers over his heavy Bratva ink as he spots me and dips his chin in a subtle nod.

The evening's MC—a guy I don’t really know from The Reckless—jumps into the ring and starts hyping up the crowd. When the rest of the party starts to realize who is fighting, an even bigger crowd starts to gather. I take another slug of beer before I slam it down on the top of the wooden barricade at my back.

“So, who are you rooting for?” a voice yells over the din behind me as I roll my neck and let Cenzo finish taping my fists.

“Question. Has there ever been a boxing match where the two fighters knocked each other out at the exact same time?”

A throb zips down my spine.

I know that voice.

I glance behind me. Instantly, heat ripples over my bare skin as I lock eyes for the first time in days with Bella.

The air crackles between us. Galina Nikitin is chattering away with her. But while Bella chatters back, her eyes are trained right on me.

Her face is impossible to read. She’s not pissed. She’s not looking at me like she wants to cut my head off, or lower me into her vat of acid, or superglue firecrackers to my ass, or inflict any other comically over the top Coyote and Roadrunner violence on me. But she’s not smiling, either. Her face is just a completely neutral mask as she looks at me, unblinking.

Well, if she wants to talk about the other night, she knows where to find me. Until then, I’ve got other shit to do aside from trying to interpret her psycho, unbroken stare.

Cenzo yanks my attention back to the task at hand. He adds a last bit of tape to my hands and then knocks my fists with his.

“You got this. You and Adrik are pretty much dead even out of the gate, but he’s already had two fights tonight.” He taps his fist on my chest. “You good?”

“Of course,” I growl.

“I mean because of who decided to roll up behind you to watch⁠—”

“Cenzo,” I pat his shoulder. “I’m good. Trust me.”

He grins. “Okay then. Go make me some money.”

I turn and grab my beer back up off the wall. My gaze catches Bella’s again, and I let it linger as I drain the bottle just before the MC blares an airhorn.

“It’s time, people!” he yells over the cheering crowd. “Fighters! Are you ready?!”

I nod. Adrik knocks his taped-up fists together and nods back.

The airhorn blasts again and the crowd erupts around us.

Let’s fucking go.

Adrik and I might be pretty evenly matched in terms of our fighting ability and size, but it still feels like a fucking truck hit me when that fucker slams a fist into my jaw. I blink away stars and immediately go on the offensive, raining down punishing blows of my own that have my opponent staggering back, grunting.

I still feel Bella’s eyes boring holes into my back. But it spurs me on, making me swing harder and faster. Pretty soon, even though it’s all blur, I realize I’m actually beating the hell out of Adrik.

When the airhorn sounds again, ending the first round, it’s clear I’m on top. Adrik grimaces, turning and spitting blood into the dirt before stalking back to his corner. Kirill is already there, clapping him on the shoulder and handing him a bottle of vodka. Adrik takes a heavy slug from it.

Round two begins a minute later, and it’s glaringly apparent within seconds that Adrik isn’t messing around this time. He comes at me like a fucking monster, raining down blows that I barely can block.

Except…

I swallow uncomfortably as my pulse thuds in my veins.

It’s not just Adrik coming in stronger. I’m fighting back weaker.

I scowl, barely blocking a wild punch to the face before I stagger back.

The fuck?