Forced to Marry the Bratva: Age Gap Mafia Romance (Zolotov Bratva Book 5)

Chapter 11 - Damien

I watch as my opponent staggers back to his feet, the raucous crowd closing in around us. Their cheers ring through the air, praising me as The Killer they‘ve come to know me as since the start. Sweat drenches my body, and I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I size him up once more.

“Come on, Damien! Finish him!” a voice shouts from nearby.

My opponent’s one of the dirtiest fighters I’ve ever faced, but I’ve learned to anticipate his every move since I lost that first round to him. With Alexai watching my every move, I don’t have the option to lose this match. I will win my boxing ring operation and be the last man standing, no matter the cost.

To do that, I know I have to rely on my intelligence and strategy to counter my opponent’s relentless onslaught. It’s a twisted dance that we’re engaged in, one that I secretly enjoy despite the pain it brings me.

“Is that all you got?” he taunts, blood smeared across his nose from the last hit I landed.

I smirk at him before launching into a series of calculated moves. My fists fly, each strike calculated to bring him down further. Left jab, right hook, a swift knee to his gut—my mind races as I quickly analyze his reactions, predicting his next move as if it were a game of chess. But this is no game; there are no winners or losers here, only survivors.

“Nice try,” I sneer as I dodge his wild swing, feeling the rush of wind as his fist narrowly misses my face.

As long as I stay focused and use my wits, I’ll walk away from this fight victorious. I try to tire him out, my feet moving in successive fast movements, taking him in circles with me. But just then, from the corner of my eye, I think I see a familiar face. It seems impossible, and I look again and lose all my focus when I realize I’m not seeing things—there, in the middle of the crowd, stands Anoushka.

What the hell is my sister doing here? The world around me fades away, and I think of how I need to get her out of here, but I can’t just walk off. Before I even collect my thoughts, my opponent jabs me right under my armpit. I stagger back, the wind knocked out of me.

Fuck. Alexai. I can’t lose to the underground Ring Boss, not if I want to win my first ring off of him. I must focus on winning this match and then...then I’ll deal with the other matters that are consuming my thoughts. Matters like Anoushka and the growing disappointment I feel toward her for being here. But those thoughts are for later—right now, it’s just me and my opponent in this ring of blood and sweat.

“Come on, Damien! Show him who’s boss!” a voice shouts from the crowd, spurring me on as I prepare to fight back.

The crowd roars around me. Sweat drips down my face, and my breathing is heavy but controlled. Well, as controlled as I can get it to be. I had just found my element after losing the first round, finding motivation in Alexai’s deal, but Anoushka’s presence has changed something in me.

“Finish him!” a voice cries out, breaking through the cacophony of cheers and jeers.

My knuckles ache from the impact of my previous hits, but I ignore it. As I prepare for another calculated strike, my eyes momentarily flicker toward the crowd, and then I see her again—Anoushka, staring at me, her eyes wide. Did I see a flicker of blonde hair near her? Could it be…?

The man standing in front of the blonde walks off, and then I see her.

“Shit,” I mumble under my breath, momentarily losing focus. The mere sight of her causes my heart to race faster than any fight ever could. Her presence here is dangerous—both for her and for me. She shouldn’t be here, but there she stands, wide-eyed and biting her lip nervously, seemingly unable to look away from the brutal scene unfolding before her.

“Genevieve?” I whisper, disbelieving my own eyes.

Of all the things I want her to think of me, a monster isn’t one of them. Right now, that’s exactly what I am: a beast in the ring.

The momentary distraction proves costly as my opponent capitalizes on my lapse in concentration, landing a dirty hit on my ribs. A sharp pain shoots through my side, and I stagger back, gasping for breath. He chases after me, punching me again and again. An uppercut to the jaw, another jab at the ribs, and one at my nose. The referee tries to stop him, but he doesn’t stop. He hits me with one final blow, and this time, I feel a sharp pain, like a knife piercing through my ribs. I notice a metal glint from the corner of my eye before my vision goes hazy. Had he concealed a knuckle ring somewhere?

He punches me again, and I fall to the ground, unable to stand.

My opponent steps away, raising one fist in the air in victory.

“Dammit!” I hiss through gritted teeth, feeling my anger surging within me. I glance down at my side and notice blood seeping out through a gash over my ribs. It’s worse than I thought.

“Looks like I found your weak spot, pretty boy,” my opponent taunts, now standing over me, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

The referee makes him step aside, and I lie on my back and close my eyes.

I see stars behind the darkness and can focus on nothing but the pain. The pain, and Genevieve and Anoushka. I’m now in a dreamlike trance, and all I want to do is succumb to this darkness and find some sleep.

In my dreams, I hear sirens. These sirens from the distance change the atmosphere around me. Shouts echo through the underground fighting arena as people scramble to escape the imminent police raid.

A police raid? Yeah, right. It’s only a dream. I’m sleeping.

A bed would be good. I force myself to open my eyes. I need to get to my feet, find my way home, and sleep in my bed. I’m dizzy, nauseous, and disoriented from the pain in my side, but I can’t fall asleep in the ring. As I struggle to stand, an approaching figure catches my eye, and I instinctively brace myself for another attack.

“Back off!” I growl at the figure, swinging a weak punch in their direction.

“Damien, it’s me! It’s Lev!” His familiar voice penetrates my foggy mind, and I recognize my younger brother’s face just in time to stop my fist from connecting with his cheek.

“Lev?” I ask, my voice strained with pain. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your stubborn ass, like always,” he replies, smirking despite the chaos surrounding us. “We need to get out of here, now.”

“Anoushka’s here, too,” I tell him urgently, my thoughts immediately concerned with her safety. “She was in the crowd. Genevieve’s with her.”

“Damien, you’re hurt and confused,” Lev urges me, grabbing my shoulder firmly. “You’re injured; we can’t waste any more time ‘cause the cops are gonna be here soon.”

“Find Anoushka and Genevieve, then we can go,” I insist through gritted teeth, determined not to abandon them in this dangerous situation. “I won’t leave them behind, Lev.”

The sirens and screams grow louder.

“They’re not here,” Lev argues, his eyes darting nervously around the chaotic scene. “You must be imagining things.”

“I’m telling you, I saw them!” I snap back, frustration mounting as I lean against the wall for support. The throbbing pain in my side won’t relent, but it’s the fear that Anoushka and Genevieve are in danger that truly clouds my thoughts.

“Damien, there’s no way they’d be here.” His voice softens, trying to placate me. “You’re just... hallucinating from the pain and adrenaline. Please, we really need to go.”

“Fine,” I concede, knowing we don’t have the luxury of time and that Lev’s not listening. Perhaps I could find them in the crowd and get to them if Lev won’t help me. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Good, let’s go,” Lev says, grabbing my arm to steady me. The sirens are closer now, and I can’t help but feel a sudden sense of urgency in the air. Just as we start to move, two familiar figures emerge through the mass of chaos, reaching toward me.

“Anoushka! Genevieve!” I exclaim, relief washing over me. My sister is standing before me, looking fierce and angry, with Genevieve at her side, looking petrified.

“What the hell?” Lev screeches in disbelief, his eyes darting between us.

“Damien! Are you okay?” Anoushka asks, concern etched on her face as she rushes to my side and gently begins to touch my face, my shoulders, and my chest, taking in my bloodied appearance and trying to see if I’m okay.

“See? I wasn’t hallucinating,” I tell Lev smugly, even though my vision is still swimming.

“Damn it, Anoushka!” Lev hisses through gritted teeth, fury and fear intermingling on his face. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here?”

“And bringing Genevieve with you?” I spit out, equally angry at my sister.

“Damien, we just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she replies defensively, her chin jutting out with that stubborn determination I know all too well. She reaches over and clutches Genevieve’s hand in hers before stepping in front of her, staring at me and silently daring me to yell at my wife.

I shake my head to clear it and take a few deep breaths to assess the situation. Right now isn’t the time to be mad. The sirens are growing louder, and from the shouts I’m hearing, some of the cops are already in the building, and backup is on its way.

“Listen,” I instruct, finally finding the balance I need to stand on my own two feet. Something about seeing Genevieve here, so helpless and scared, makes me forget my own pain. “We need to separate. That way, if one of us is caught, the other can help out without involving the family. Lev,” I look at my brother. “Take Anoushka. Genevieve, stay with me.”

I can see Lev wanting to argue, worried for me. But I see no other choice. What’s the point of the four of us getting caught together? There’s no way I can leave the girls alone, unprotected.

“Lev, take Anoushka and get out of here. Now.” I order, my voice brokering no argument. Lev hesitates for a moment before nodding in agreement. He knows as well as I do that we have no time to waste.

“Come on, Anoushka,” he says, grabbing her hand and starting to lead her away from the chaos.

“Be careful, Damien, Gen,” she calls out, worry evident in her eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I reply grimly, turning my attention back to Genevieve.

“Stay close to me,” I tell her, locking eyes with her as she nods shakily, fear etched onto her delicate features. I feel an unexpected surge of protectiveness, a need to shield her from the danger surrounding us.

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself, forcing down the pain radiating from my injured side. Focus, Damien, focus. I can’t afford any more distractions.

“Ready?” I ask Genevieve, gripping her hand tightly as she nods. Together, we move as one, weaving our way through the frenzied crowd and dodging flailing limbs as we navigate toward the exit.

“Where are we going?” Genevieve whispers, her eyes darting from side to side as if searching for potential threats.

“Out to my car and back home,” I assure her, my mind racing through possible escape routes. I feel the full weight of my responsibility for Genevieve’s safety, an unfamiliar sensation that unnerves me.

The wail of fresh sirens cuts through the air, injecting urgency into my already racing heart. We’re swamped by cops. One wrong turn, and we could end up in the slammer. I tighten my grip on Genevieve’s hand, determined to get us out of this chaos before we run into the cops.

“Stay close,” I command. “And tell me if you see cops.”

We push through the crowd, bodies jostling against us as we weave our way toward the exit.

“Damien, they’re getting closer!” Genevieve warns, her breath rapid as she glances behind us. I turn and see those dreadful uniforms.

“Left, now!” I bark, pulling her with me as we take a sharp turn down a narrow corridor. The way we rush makes me sick and dizzy. I stand against the wall, trying to catch my breath. There are no lights here, no people. It’s cramped, and Genevieve’s chest is pressed against my own.

“Are you okay?” I ask breathlessly.

“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone defiant despite her labored breathing. She reaches over and accidentally touches my waist.

“Fuck,” I groan without thinking. She touches a deep cut, and I feel the wave of nausea hurl over me.

“Damien,” she whispers. “Damien?”

“Ugh,” I manage to grunt out.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly and pulls out her phone, her eyes filled with worry as she examines my blood-soaked torso with the beam from her phone light. I can see the fear etched on her face, but there’s a determination there, too—a strength that surprises me.

“I’ve had worse,” I lie, gasping for breath as the pain intensifies. She doesn’t need to know how much it hurts; she has enough to worry about. “We need to get out of here before they find us.”

“You’re right,” she says without skipping a beat. “But you’re in no shape to lead us out of here. Now, I’m going to take over. One more word from your mouth, and I swear I’ll tape it shut if I must,” she says, leaving no room for argument. She places her hand on my shoulder to keep me in check and has her other hand on my lips to keep me quiet before slowly peeking out from the corner of the unlit corridor toward the scene of chaos.