A Treacherous Killer-Dark Bratva Romance

nine

Maks

The hot jet of water streams down my face and down my blood soaked body. I watch as rivulets of it run down my leg and disappear down the drain.

The man's blood had splattered all over me. I was caught up in the moment and hadn't noticed the excessive amount of it. Not until we tied a rock to him and sunk him below the Moscow river. He was fish food now. He wouldn't ever have the chance to harm another woman.

I extended my aching hand out, examining the normal dark bruises on my knuckles that are now a brilliant shade of purple. I had beaten the guy to a bloody pulp before ending his miserable life with a quick slash of my blade across his neck.

I hadn't killed many men like the one from last night. A slimy creep who preyed on weak minded women. He had probably seen the princess stumble into the club and viewed her distress as a calling card.

He had wanted to get her alone, make her feel special and then take from her what he wanted while she was unconscious and couldn't fight back.

I was no vigilante but I had no problem ridding the city of a bastard like him.

I had overheard Caine updating Simon on Nadia. He had said she was feeling better and the drugs were mostly gone from her system. I hadn't intended on listening in or caring for that matter about their conversation, but a small part of me was relieved that she was okay. Even though I despised the princess, I didn't wish to see her hurt.

She reminded me a bit someone I used to know. Naive and oblivious to the vileness the world contained. She wanted to see the good in everyone, even when good ceased to exist in some. I used to live my life trying to protect that innocence I saw in the person who meant everything to me, but I had failed and they were no longer mine to protect.

I turned the water off and emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel off a hook. Leo had wanted to go to the Beyala Roza again tonight but I had no desire to return there so soon after the events of last night. Plus, I still had too much adrenaline running through me to sit and watch idiots grinding on each other.

I quickly dress in a pair of loose fitting jeans and a t-shirt and get in the elevator to meet Leo in the lobby. When the elevator dings open, I find him leaned against the counter talking to Denis.

"There he is," Leo says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "It's nice to see your face again without all that blood on it."

"Shut the fuck up," I growl, shoving his hand off.

Denis can't quite meet my eyes. He'd seen me walk through the lobby with a few drops of blood on my coat or mud all over my shoes a few dozen times, and didn't bat an eye. However, I think it had been a real shock when he witnessed me walking in with blood soaked clothes early this morning.

"Let's go." I grab Leo by the collar of his jacket and drag him across the lobby and out onto the street.

"Damn, you're feisty tonight," he says, fixing his collar.

"We're going to be late." I hit the unlock button on my keys, the headlights flashing in response.

"I'm putting all my bets on you. Especially after witnessing that savage display of aggression you performed on that guy last night. I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life," he spouts. I ignore him and get behind the wheel of my Audi, pulling out onto the street.

A short while later, we pull along the curb in front of the abandoned gym called the Plamya Fitness (Flame Fitness). It's already packed, cars lining down both sides of the street as far as the eye can see and people swarming into the entrance. Leo and I join the crowd, Leo taking satisfaction in seeing people noticing us and whispering amongst each other.

The old gym had long since been stripped of its equipment, the only thing that remained was the fighting arena smack dab in the middle of the room. A fight was already taking place as we approach the ring, the crowd urging the two men on.

I spot Damien in the crowd collecting money from people placing bets. His eyes widen when he sees me.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he laughs and claps a hand on my back.

"Is there a spot open?" I ask, surveying the crowd for possible contenders.

"There's always a spot open for you, Vasilyev," he chuckles.

I turn back to watch the end of the fight going on in the ring. The smaller guy is quick on his feet, dancing in circles around the heavier guy. He swats at him like an annoying fly, not managing to make any contact until the smaller guy makes the mistake of getting too close. The bigger guy lands a blow across his jaw that sends him flying back into the ropes. He lands with a thud on the mat, knocked out cold.

The bell rings and the announcer ducks under the ropes to announce the bigger guy the winner. He holds his fist up above his head and grins at the crowd.

"Timur Benovich ladies and gentlemen!" The crowd yells their approval. Timur exits the ring and a new guy enters. He's about my height, toned muscle rippling underneath his white t-shirt. I can immediately tell he's light on his feet, jumping up and down like a trained boxer. My steps were slower, but that just meant my hits packed more power.

"It's your turn Vasilyev," Damien yells over the crowd. He tosses Leo a roll of tape and he quickly helps me wrap my hands. The announcer calls out my opponent's name and then my name is being called and I'm shoved forward by Leo into the ring.

The guy gives me a bloodthirsty grin, I notice a few of his teeth are missing. I try to drown out the raucous noise of the crowd and focus my mind on the task at hand. Nine times out of ten guys that are quick on their feet tire out quickly. If I could toy with him long enough, he'd eventually give up and that's when I would lay my final blow.

As soon as the bell rings the guy charges at me full speed and I easily sidestep him. He circles around the ring over and over again, the impatient crowd urging one of us to make a move.

He lurches forward again, sweeping for my legs. I use the opportunity to lay a blow to his stomach. He doubles over and I grab him by the shoulders, lifting him up. I land blow after blow to his face, he doesn't have the capability to fight me off.

I shove him back, too jacked up on adrenaline to win so easy. Two guys on the opposite end of the ring shake his shoulders and he stumbles forward. I allow him to lazily shove me and graze a blow across my cheek before punching him hard in the jaw. His back hits the mat and he doesn't get up again.

The announcer comes into the ring and raises my hand above my head. "Maks Vasilyev everyone!" The crowd chants my name but I don't stand around long enough for them to admire me. That's not why I fought.

I exit the ring and find Leo counting a stack of bills in his hand. He gives me a shit eating grin and waves the money around as we walk out of the gym.

The night air feels good compared to the stifling heat of the crowded gym. Some of my adrenaline had worn off and my mind felt more clear.

I had started fighting at the Plamya Fitnes about five years ago to release some of my pent up anger. I realized that if I didn't do something about the rage eating away at my insides, it would consume me. What better way to curb my anger than beating up random strangers.

As Leo and I get in the car, my phone dings. I retrieve it from my pocket and find a new message from the unknown number. I squeeze the phone in the hand before slamming it down in the cup holder. Those messages served as a reminder of why my rage existed in the first place.