Page 15

It was about 100 feet from the start to the finish line. For Arturo and me, it would be easy since we were close in height. I leaned forward to catch sight of my older brother.

Aleksandr was at the far end, his left leg securely strapped to Drea’s right one. There was almost a two-feet difference in height between the two of them. Everyone, including them, knew they had no shot of winning.

“Let’s hear a little from contestants.” Mikhail stopped in front of Aleksandr and held up the imaginary mic, which was just his phone. “How are we feeling today, big guy? Confident on your win?”

Aleksandr simply grunted.

“Oh. Tough crowd.” He took one step and held out the “mic” to Drea. “How about you, gorgeous?”

Before she could say a word, Aleksandr growled, stepping forward abruptly, which, in turn, only jostled Drea, causing her to fall with a surprised shriek.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry, baby,” Aleksandr said, bending down to help her up.

“Whoa, whoa. No need to get aggressive. I call everyone gorgeous. Although, with you, I actually mean it.” Mikhail winked at Drea, which just angered Aleksandr even more, my big brother reaching for his throat.

Mikhail jumped back, winked again—this time at Aleksandr—and continued moving down the line. Lukyan and Lyla were the only ones to actually engage Mikhail in his antics, answering his questions as if they were in a real pregame interview, talking about their strategy to win and how they were going to kick ass.

“Remember, my left foot first, your right foot first, then our joined one together,” I said to Arturo, getting my head in the game.

“Got it, kotenok.” He nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let Lukyan beat us.” His gaze narrowed when he looked at Lukyan, as if the mere idea of having my brother beat him in something was an offense of the highest accord.

I chuckled. “Good. Use that. If he wins the games, he’ll be fucking unbearable.”

Arturo paled, his eyes snapping to me. “More unbearable than he is now?”

“Way more,” I whispered ominously.

“Oh, fuck no. We’re winning this shit.” He interlocked his fingers and pushed them outward, cracking his knuckles before he cracked his neck, first left, then right. He held up a closed fist between us. I bumped my fist against his, ready to fucking go.

“If you get close enough,” I whispered, glaring at Lukyan beside us, who was busy talking strategy with Lyla, “trip that motherfucker.”

Arturo smiled, and there was something positively evil about it that set my soul ablaze. “You don’t have to convince me, baby.”

Once Mikhail finished his pregame interviews, he ran in front, facing us. One clap brought all attention to him.

“Okay, contestants! Let’s get this round started! Before we begin, I’ll introduce Sam and her team.” He waved off to the side, where an older woman with a full head of white hair stood, along with two men dressed in medical scrubs. “They are the medical team and will be on standby in case of any…accidents.”

Down the line, Drea scoffed.

“Whatever happens, it won’t be by accident,” Tatiana commented with a laugh.

“That’s for damn sure.” Autumn agreed.

Mikhail held up two flags, one in each hand. “When I say go, you’ll race to the finish line down the field. As you already know, first place will score three points, second place will score two points, and third place will score one point. If you don’t place in the top three, you’ll receive no points. So move your ass. Hustle. Pushing, shoving, and hitting have all been sanctioned for this round, so do what you need to do to win. Ready?!”

“Ready!” we all yelled, taking a running stance.

Excitement hammered in my body, adrenaline making my fingers twitch. Because my godfather was an evil son of a bitch, he kept us waiting, letting the suspense build and build and build.

I looked down the line, seeing everyone just as reeved up and ready to go the moment he dropped those flags as I was. Even my father and Autumn, their faces set with determination, were just as eager as the rest of us.

Mikhail smirked. “Go!” he yelled, swinging down the flags.

Somehow, I managed to remember to put my left foot first. All the excitement had made me completely forget the plan, but luckily, my body was paying attention, even if my mind wasn’t. Arturo and I took off. One mind. One body. Completely in sync.

“One, two, one, two, one, two,” Arturo chanted, keeping us centered and focused. The man was my fucking rock.

I tried not to look back at the others. Tried to concentrate on the task ahead. But I was the type who, if I were getting chased by someone with a knife, I’d constantly look back to see how far away they were. I needed to see how close they were to catching me. It was almost a fucking compulsion.