4. Mia #3
My mood threatens to sour at the mention of Dario.
I can’t get that man out of my head, and it’s starting to really get to me.
I’m having way too much fun taunting him, and I’m not so sure I want it to end.
“I think I have the patience of a saint when it comes to him. He made me do burpees last night. You know how much I fucking hate those.”
He grins and steps out when the elevator doors open. “It’s good for your heart. You need excellent endurance in a fight. No one who’s trying to kill you is going to let you stop to catch your breath. If you lose focus because you’re gasping for air, then you’re dead. No second chances, Mia.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, taking the helmet he offers me and then getting on his bike after him.
I grip the bottom of the seat, keeping some distance between us as he drives out of the parking garage.
I’m not at all surprised that it’s just a regular motorcycle ride with nothing spontaneously happening.
I’m beginning to think that Dario is to blame for always pushing me over the edge.
Without him driving me crazy and spurring my body on, it’s just a slightly pleasant sensation between my legs that I can appreciate without it turning into anything embarrassing.
I’ve been trying to figure out what Sasha’s surprise could be, but I’m still clueless when he pulls in front of an abandoned-looking warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
I’ve never been here before, and a quick look around reveals nothing but a derelict building about a hundred feet away and a few empty lots that have been overtaken by weeds.
We’re the only signs of life, and I’m more curious than ever about what my brother has planned for me.
After he parks in front, I follow him to the side and pull my helmet off. “Okay,” I tell him. “I give up. What’s the surprise?” I glance around, barely seeing anything since none of the lights work on this street. “I’d be a little worried if anyone other than you brought me here.”
Sasha looks around as he pulls a key from his pocket. “What do you mean?”
I gesture at the creepy-as-fuck landscape behind me. “This looks like the beginning of a horror movie, Sasha. If I didn’t know you, I’d assume you were bringing me here to kill me. ”
He thinks for a second. I can tell he’s trying to see it from my point of view, but it’s not quite clicking. “Seriously?”
“Uh, yeah.” I gently smack my brother’s shoulder. “If you ever decide to date, don’t bring her here.”
He looks around again like he’s filing this bit of information away in case it comes in handy one day and then turns back around to unlock the door.
I’ve learned to expect the unexpected with Sasha, but even after eighteen years, I’m still caught by surprise when he flicks a switch, illuminating the open space in front of us and revealing the bloody man tied to a chair in the center of the room.
“What?” I start to say, and then just shake my head as I take in the scene before me.
A strip of fabric is between his teeth and being used as a gag, he’s naked from the waist up, and it looks like Sasha’s already had a bit of fun.
Bruises have already formed along his ribs, and the man’s nose is obviously broken.
Watching us walk in has him frantically tugging on his restraints, hoping like hell that this time will be different and the rope will magically fall away.
It doesn’t. He struggles, nearly forcing the chair over in the process before he finally gives up, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath while more blood drips from his nose.
“Surprise,” my brother says, grinning as he steps in front of me and points to the bound prisoner.
“You got me a man?” I ask.
Sasha just nods and smiles even bigger. “I did.”
“For?” I ask, stretching the word out because I honestly have no fucking clue what’s going through my brother’s mind right now.
“To kill,” he says, like it should already be painfully obvious. “Practicing with dummies and punching bags and sparring with Dario and me is great, but it’ll never be the same as real-world practice. You need to fight someone who’s not going to back down, someone who’s out for blood.”
I look at the man, who seems just as confused by all this as I am before I meet my brother’s eyes. “You want me to fight him?”
“I do. I’ll be here, of course, to help if you need me, but I have complete confidence in you, sis. You want to join the Bratva, this is the way to start convincing the others that you can handle it,” he says.
“Dad is not going to be happy about this,” I say.
“Let me worry about Dad.” Sasha pulls his favorite knife out from the belt sheath that rests along his lower back and slowly makes his way to the center of the room.
The man tries to yell something, and the murderous rage in his eyes has a tiny prickle of fear running up my spine.
Sasha is right. I’ve never really fought anyone, not when it counts.
Dario may not go easy on me, but if I fuck up, he’s not going to stab me.
I’m always safe, no matter how pissed he might be at me.
I trust him completely, and I know he’d never hurt me.
This guy will kill me the second I give him the opportunity to do so, and that has me starting to doubt my abilities.
Before I can ask if this is a good idea, Sasha slides the blade of his knife along the man’s cheek, slipping it under the fabric and cutting through it with ease.
As soon as the gag falls, the man starts screaming.
Sasha shoots me a grin. “I had the place soundproofed.”
I look around the large warehouse. This one is different than the one he’d hidden me in before so I could watch him work.
That had felt more like a rundown office building, but this one is much more sinister.
There are drains strategically placed along the floor, chains and hooks that hang from the rafters, and a fridge sitting in the corner.
“Do I want to know what’s in there?” I ask him, making sure he can hear me over the man’s yells.
“Just some water and a few snacks to keep Uncle Vitaly happy when we’re stuck here for several hours.”
“He does get hangry,” I say.
Sasha and I wait for the man’s screams to turn hoarse, and when he finally stops, my brother squats down so they’re eye level. “This is my sister.” He points over at me without taking his eyes off the man. “You’re going to fight her. She needs to learn, so don’t hold back.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” the guy says. Wide, terrified eyes dart between us.
“We’ve already established that, Greg. Focus on what I’m telling you now. I’m going to give you a knife. Try to kill her before she kills you.”
“What if I kill her?” he asks.
I’m wondering the same thing, but instead of answering him, Sasha turns to me and says in Russian, “I would never allow that to happen. If I think you can’t handle it, he’ll be dead before he can do any serious damage.
I’m not stepping in unless I have to, though.
It’s important you learn to push past your fear.
You need to be able to think and react under pressure. ”
“I’m not scared,” I insist. He raises a dark brow at me, but aside from that, he doesn’t call me out on my bullshit. We both know I’m terrified, and when he starts to cut through the rope that’s keeping Greg bound to the chair, he says to me, “Get ready to spill some blood, little witch.”
I grab the large knife at my forearm, pulling it from the sleeve of my hoodie as I force myself to take a deep, calming breath.
I try to tell myself it’s just like a practice round with Dario.
I’ve trained for this, and I’m more than capable of taking down someone who’s not nearly as big as Dario.
Greg is probably five-ten, maybe a hundred-and-sixty pounds, way smaller than Dario and Sasha, the two men I’ve been training with.
This should be a breeze. If I don’t fuck it up, that is.
Once the restraints are cut from Greg, the man stays in the chair, too scared of Sasha to actually move from his seated position.
From the terrified look on his face, I’m guessing he thinks this is a test of some kind, but when Sasha pulls a knife from his pocket, Greg’s eyebrows shoot up.
This knife is much smaller than the large, serrated knife he’d been using to cut through the rope, but when he pushes a button, the blade that comes out is still plenty long enough to do some serious damage, especially with how sharp Sasha likes to keep his knives.
The knife I’m gripping is bigger, the blade longer and serrated like my brother’s, and I grip the handle a little tighter when I see the desperate look in Greg’s eyes as they meet mine.
“What will you do to me if I kill her?” he asks my brother again .
Sasha shrugs and takes a few steps back. “Then you win, and I’ll let you leave.”
“You’ll just let me go?” Greg asks, disbelief seeping into every word.
“Yes,” Sasha tells him.
There’s no way in hell Sasha would ever allow that to happen, but Greg’s desperate to believe in something, so he clutches onto my brother’s words and convinces himself that the crazy man with a knife is telling the truth.
Switching to Russian, Sasha says, “Don’t let your guard down, Mia. The goal is to end this as quickly as possible.”
He steps off to the side, giving Greg and me the floor, and as soon as the way is clear, Greg lunges for me.
Instincts take over, and I easily step out of the way, swinging my knife as I do and landing a nice cut to Greg’s outer thigh.
He hisses out a breath and stumbles, but it’s not a cut that’s going to do any lasting damage.