Chapter 29 #2
The entrance to Gusev’s territory wasn’t what most people would expect from a man rumored to oversee one of the most brutal underground fighting circuits this side of the state.
There were no crumbling warehouses, no rusted gates, or tattooed guards standing around with rifles to keep people who didn’t belong out.
Instead, the road curved upward through manicured landscaping illuminated by soft golden lights hidden beneath plants and sculpted stonework. Trees swayed gently in the night breeze, and water cascaded down black volcanic rock into narrow streams that cut through the property.
A paradise on the outside. That was the only word for it.
The estate stretched across acres of land, and the massive white structure in the center of it all looked more like an elite luxury resort than the location of an illegal fighting empire.
Glass walls reflected moonlight in silver shards, and music drifted faintly through the night air from somewhere deeper inside the compound.
Luxury vehicles lined the circular driveway. Bentleys. Ferraris. Rolls-Royces. Men in tailored suits stepped from them beside women draped in diamonds and silk, all laughing softly as though they were arriving for a gala instead of an evening dedicated to bloodshed.
“Jesus Christ.” Nik let out a low whistle beside me. “The fuck? Are you sure we’re at the right place?”
“Gusev always liked expensive things,” I muttered.
But even I hadn’t expected this.
When I’d fought in this very territory, it’d been hidden in basements thick with sweat and mold and empty parking lots with the ring being the body of people surrounding us. Men fought there because they were desperate. Because they needed money, or protection, or somewhere to put their rage.
This was different. Gusev had taken brutality and dressed it in gold, and the rich always lusted after anything shiny.
A security checkpoint blocked the road ahead before we reached the main building.
The guards stationed there weren’t flashy about their weapons, but I noticed all of them immediately anyway.
Shoulder holsters beneath fitted jackets, discreet earpieces, and eyes too alert to be ordinary hired security.
One of them approached my window. “Invitation code.”
I rolled the window halfway down and gave the phrase Gusev had texted earlier that evening. The codes changed for each event and were never revealed until the day of the event to preserve its integrity.
The guard’s expression didn’t change, but he stepped back immediately and pressed a finger to his earpiece. A moment later, the gates slid open.
“Welcome, Brigadier.”
Nik snorted quietly beside me as I drove forward again. “Well, that’s dramatic.”
“That’s Gusev for you, but there’s a reason he’s been one of the most successful brigadiers in Maxim’s business. He doesn’t target lower-income people, and the way he runs his operation promises anonymity.”
We parked beneath a covered entrance where another pair of guards waited at the checkpoint.
We stepped out of the vehicle, and the guards searched us.
Luckily, I’d told Nik to leave his weapons in the SUV rather than to hand them over.
I didn’t trust anyone else to touch my tools of trade.
The guards cleared us and waved us toward the main doors, which opened and Gusev himself emerged.
He looked as impeccably dressed as usual, wearing an ivory suit that didn’t need a designer label visible to know it was expensive.
His hair was slicked neatly back, his smile warm enough to fool anyone who didn’t know better.
After meeting at the club, we’d chatted casually over the phone leading up to tonight, and so far, he seemed solid.
I could see us getting along easily, but I wasn’t ready to let my guard down yet.
It took a while before most people showed their true colors, which was why I stuck around Leo. Eventually, he had to let his guard down and let me see all of him. I’d already glimpsed it when he’d thought he’d hurt me with the door. I still smiled when I thought about how concerned he’d been then.
Seems like the way to the doctor’s heart is to need his medical attention.
“Sergei.” Gusev descended the steps and held out his hand. “You actually came.”
“Well, I have to see what gives the Great Gusev the Midas touch.”
Gusev laughed and took my hand into a firm handshake that surprised me when it ended in a brief embrace.
“Hey, we’re not competitors here. We run different businesses.
I just happen to know what the market wants and how to target the right demographic that will pay the highest dollar to get it.
And besides, tonight we’re friends, no? No more of this Gusev nonsense. Call me Pyotr.”
I nodded and introduced Nik to Gusev. Nik might have just been my shadow for the night, but I needed Gusev to understand he was way more than that to me. He was under my protection, and I expected him to be treated accordingly while we were there.
Gusev greeted him briefly, then motioned for us to follow him inside.
“You’re just in time to cast your bet for the next fight,” he said as we entered the sprawling marble foyer.
A woman in a tight red leather dress approached, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. Her dark hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail that exposed the glittering diamond cuffs climbing both ears. In her hands were two matte-black tablets no larger than notebooks.
“Thank you, Isabelle.” Gusev took them from her and passed one each to Nik and me.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Gusev. Is there anything else you need?”
“The important guest in the crystal suite: ensure his every need is fulfilled.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
My gaze lingered on the back of the woman as she walked away. Who was that important guest who deserved to have his every need fulfilled?
“House rules.” Gusev handed one of the tablets to Nik and the other to me. “No personal phones. No watches with recording capability. No outside electronics whatsoever. Everything for the evening runs through the estate network for security reasons.”
I glanced toward a long, illuminated counter a few feet away, where guests were surrendering their devices into individual biometric lockboxes. Armed security stood nearby, watching every interaction carefully. Nobody argued. Nobody even looked inconvenienced by it.
Rich men hated being separated from their phones.
Powerful men hated surrendering control even more.
Yet here, they handed over their devices without hesitation because whatever happened in this building was valuable enough to protect at all costs and dangerous enough that nobody wanted evidence leaking out.
They complied because they knew the procedures protected them from the polite society they were a part of finding out about their perverse pleasure in violence.
I tapped the screen of the tablet, and it powered on instantly beneath my thumb.
The interface was sleek, black, and gold, with Gusev’s serpent insignia stamped across the top corner.
Images of the two fighters appeared side by side on the screen alongside a countdown clock showing ten minutes remaining before the match began.
“Holy shit. Aistov’s fighting?” Nik cried softly.
Ah, so that’s the reason Gusev thought we’d be interested in this fight.
Aistov’s photograph looked more suited for a luxury fashion campaign than an underground fight circuit.
Pale skin. Sharp cheekbones. Long dark hair flowing down his shoulders.
Even shirtless in the profile image, he looked elegant.
Not the kind of man you’d expect to be in the ring.
Why was he even doing this? Aistov was wealthy in his own right from working as a brigadier for Maxim.
His opponent looked built from concrete and prison violence.
Below their images, betting categories scrolled endlessly down the screen.
It wasn’t just betting on a winner. In fact, the winner’s bracket carried some of the lowest payouts on the board because that part was considered too predictable.
The real money came from the details surrounding the violence.
Patrons were wagering on the method of victory, how many rounds the fight would last, whether the match would end in a knockout or submission, and how many bones would break before it was over.