Chapter 22
LEX
Miami, Florida
Getting ready to start Luca’s Red Hour.
DAD: Good luck son. Stay strong.
ME: I will. How’s mom?
Dad didn’t come with us to Miami. He decided to hang back and watch over Mom.
When she found out what happened in Costa Rica, she was a nervous wreck. Then I told her I was going to have to fight down here and the news sent her into a full blown panic attack. She may be an ice cold Bratva bitch to everyone else, but not when it comes to me.
We didn’t want to leave her alone.
DAD: She’ll be fine. You can’t worry about her right now. Stay focused.
DAD: Call me when it’s over.
ME: Will do.
I slide my phone into my bag. Cade, Rez, Roman, and Marisol are already stepping into the gym.
This place is more of a shitty practice gym than anything.
Nothing like I’d expect from a cartel boss known for his deep-pockets and high-stakes fight nights.
Rickety, rusted weight benches line the far wall and a few fraying punching bags drape from poles in the corner.
In the center there is an octagon surrounded by a metal cage and a few rows of bleachers.
“Well,” I mutter, dropping my duffel bag on one of the metal bleachers. “This is underwhelming.”
“Hey,” Marisol says, putting her hands on her hips. “Zeke said he needed a ring. He didn’t specify which one.”
“You have more than one?” Cade asks, looking around at the cage.
“We’ve got seven total all over Miami,” she beams. “Some for workouts like this one and others for Daddy’s big high roller fights.”
“In position,” Tex says through the comms. “No movement out front.”
He’s perched on the rooftop of the grocery store across the street. Sniper view locked on the main door.
“Nothing out back either,” Knox crackles in a few seconds later from the van.
“What now, babe?” Cade asks as he takes a seat.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Normally by now that bastard would have—”
DING.
The gym lights cut.
“Damn it,” I grit. “Spoke too soon.”
@LucaWasHere
Welcome Lexie, to my Red Hour.
The lights go black and the sky turns sour.
New ring, new rules, no promised bell.
Just blood and breath and bite and hell.
Your little kings would piss and run.
But I prefer a slower fun.
Three champions wait to test your name.
One dies fast, the next joins in the game.
The final one will beg for peace,
But mercy here does not release.
To earn the key, to win your round,
You’ll have to put them in the ground.
Check Alejandro’s desk for my little prize,
It’s black and white and just your size.
Put it on and seal your fate.
My first champion won’t be late.
But know this Lexie: if Rez gets bold,
If he steps in, or Cade’s eyes grow cold.
Then every collar starts to glow,
And all your precious kings will blow.
“Marisol,” I say, letting out a shaky breath. “Where’s your dad’s office?”
She jerks her chin behind me toward a dimly lit hallway. “Last door on the right. Come on.”
We follow her past a wall of rusted lockers and peeling paint. The office door creaks as she pushes it open. Sitting on top of an old wooden desk is the same black-and-white collar that’s strapped to our girl’s neck.
I reach for it.
A hand yanks me back by my forearm, slamming me into a chest.
“Don’t,” Cade’s panicked voice fills my ear. “You can’t really…” He shakes his head. “Babe, you can’t put that thing on.”
I stare down at the collar. “Don’t really see an alternative.”
I tap my comm. “Knox. Be straight with me. Can you get this thing off once it’s on?”
There’s a brief pause and a few clicking of keys.
“I can try to hack it,” Knox says. “But it won’t be live until it’s locked on your neck. And now that we know Zeke messed with Bella’s collar.” He sucks in deep breath.
“Just say it,” I snap.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it off without it igniting,” he whispers. “I’m out of my league here, Lex.”
“Sabine?” I ask, knowing she’s still listening next to Knox. “Any insight?”
“Without any knowledge of what that boy laced it with, chéri, I’m afraid I won’t be much help either.” She sighs. “Best I can do is help counteract any chemicals or poisons once they’re released into your system, l’ombre.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I groan. My fingers graze the black-and-white device.
“Babe, please.” Cade’s grip tightens around my arm. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to,” I whisper, placing a hand over his.
I lift the collar and press it to my throat. It locks in place with a mechanical click. A quiet hum coils through the metal as cold steel kisses my skin.
“Knox,” Roman says into his comm. “It’s on. Get to work.”
Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring.
All of our gazes shift in a flash to the landline phone blinking on the desk. Marisol reaches around me and leans down, her black and pink waves spilling onto the desk as she picks it up.
“Hello,” she says. Her eyes widen at whoever is on the other end. She nods once, sets the phone down, and hits the speaker button.
“Lexie?” his familiar and smug voice crackles through the old phone. “Lexie, you there?”
None of us answer.
The sadistic bastard laughs. “I know you are, because your leash just activated.”
“What do you want, Jac—Luca?” I growl.
“So,” he scoffs. “You know the truth then. Tell me then, was it the little pink crow who spoiled my surprise?”
Marisol gasps and retreats back a step, nearly crashing into Cade. He grips her by the waist to steady her.
“No,” Roman pipes up in a fury. “It was your shitty aim. Now where’s my daughter you—”
“Ahh,” Luca’s voice cuts him off, laughing again in pure glee. “Roman, my old friend, you made it! How wonderful.”
“Quit the shit, Luca,” I snap. “I did what you wanted. The collar is on. Now what?”
“Now it’s time, of course,” he chuckles.
“For what?” I ask.
He hums. “You boys really aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed are you?”
“Hey guys,” Tex’s voice rings in. “We’ve got movement up here. Black SUV pulling in… Five men getting out. Looks like two of them are armed. The others—shit.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“The other three have on collars.”
My fingers graze the metal around my throat. “Of course they do.”
“You’re going to want to tell him to stand down,” Luca says.
“How do you?”
“Not important,” Luca chuckles.
All of our heads turn. Roman rushes to the bookshelf in the corner, trying to find some sort of camera this freak’s got hidden in this place.
“You’re wasting your time, you’ll never find it,” Luca continues. “Now tell your little sniper friend to stand down. Remember boys, it’s Izzy who’ll pay the price for your disobedience.”
“Tex,” I order through my comms. “Do not engage.”
“What?” he barks. “Barinov, I’ve got a clear shot.”
“How many more shocks to her system do you think it’ll take before she’ll blame you for the pain, Lexie?” Luca taunts.
“Don’t engage!” I yell, slamming my fists on the desk..
“Damn it,” Tex says. “They’re entering the front door. I’ve still got a shot.”
“Stand down,” Knox’s voice comes through. “We have to let this play out. We can’t let him hurt Bella anymore.”
“They’re in,” Tex confirms. “Good luck, Lex.”
“Yes, Lexie,” Luca mocks. “Good luck.”
The phone call ends.
When we get back to the gym, two men stand at the cage doors looking like demons on Satan’s guard duty. Each locked down with more weapons than sense. Pistols strapped to their thighs and belts. Their sleeves are rolled back just enough to reveal the cursive C branded into each of their forearms.
Just like Bella.
In the ring, he’s already waiting for me. Luca’s first champion or whatever. He’s tall, shirtless, and has a nasty scar on his left cheek. His hair is so light it’s almost white.
Worst of all, the guy’s holding a fucking baseball bat. He’s standing there swinging it like he’s warming up for a home run derby. Only this time, it’s my head he wants to knock out of the park.
The guy looks familiar, but I can’t place it.
The other two are parked on the bleachers, quietly watching. Nearly the same build as the one in the ring. Same white-blond hair and same dead eyes. Black-and-white metal glowing on their necks as well.
Then it hits me.
“No way,” Rez whispers, realization punching him in the gut at the same time.
“What?” Cade asks.
“You,” I yell at the guy in the cage. “What’s your name?”
“You already know it, Barinov,” he calls back, swinging his bat again.
Rez steps up beside me. “The Vasilev brothers.”
They’re mine and Rez’s second cousins or some shit from Moscow.
I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw them.
Maybe at our great-grandfather’s birthday when Rez and I were seven?
Or were we eight? Who cares, all I remember is that they were the biggest mama’s boys I’ve ever met.
That and the one with the scar stole my piece of cake.
Shit what were their names anyway? I know the cake thief was like Vlad or Viktor or something. It was all Vs.
The intercom crackles overhead and Luca’s voice drips through the gym.
“Lexie, Lexie. You know what to do.
Step on in and punch right through.
Don’t hold back. Don’t play it cute.
Let him bleed beneath your boot.”
I step into the ring. The cage doors clang as they close.
The big dude with Luca’s brand locks the door behind me.
“What is this shit, Barinov?” my cage buddy asks. “What did you get us into—”
Zzzzk!
“AHHH!” I scream, my spine arching as lightning rips through me. The collar glows like an electric halo, searing and biting deep into my skin.
Across the ring, Vlad or Viktor or whatever drops too, screaming and clawing at his neck. Clearly in just as much pain as me. His bat clatters to the mat beside him.
The shocks stop and the pain dulls. My breath punches out of me, rage laced with voltage. I stagger to my feet, grinding my teeth through the aftershock.
He’s still on the floor panting. His white hair is plastered to his forehead. Curling his fingers around the bat, he slowly pushes himself to his feet.
“Welcome to The Red Hour,” Luca whispers over the intercom. “You boys know what to do.”
“I’m going to kill you!” I yell toward the speaker. “Mark my words fucker, I will kill—”
CRACK.
White-hot pain explodes across the base of my skull as the bat connects. My knees hit the mat and the world sways around me in a dark haze.
“LEX!” Cade’s worried voice fills my ears.
I look over just in time to see Rez haul him back.
“No, Cade!” he snaps. “We can’t interfere.”
I swallow blood. The taste coats my tongue like rust as another blow slams into my ribs. I grunt, twisting in agony, my vision smearing in red and fire.
I hear the scrape of the bat against the ground before he goes for another swing. This time, I catch it. I twist, rip it from his grip, and slam the butt of it into his jaw. His head jerks backward and he stumbles back.
I toss the bat and lunge, my fists flying.
One. Two.
A hook to the temple, an elbow to the gut. He folds. But I don’t stop. I pin him to the floor, my fists crashing down in a savage rhythm, until a cheap shot stops me cold. A knee straight to my balls that forces me to roll off of him. He coughs and starts crawling for the bat.
“No,” I grunt.
I grab his legs and yank him back, kicking him square in the face with the heel of my boot. A few teeth scatter. He goes limp. My chest is heaving as I shove myself to my feet. Blood drips to the mat in wet splatters. He stirs—barely—but he stays down.
ZAP.
Apparently, staying down isn’t in the cards. His screams echo through the gym, drowned out by the angry crackle of the collar as it sparks again. He scrambles upright and stumbles for the bat. He fumbles the grip and swings blindly as the electricity jitters through his frame.
I duck.
He whiffs.
I spin.
CRACK.
My elbow catches him clean in the nose. He staggers and falls to his knees, blood pouring down his lips. I reach down and pick up the bat beside him. The cold wood stinging my palm.
“Viktor!” his brothers scream at the cage.
“Do it,” Luca purrs through the speakers. “End him.”
His dead eyes meet mine, blinking through sweat and tears. “Please,” he whimpers. “D-d-don’t.”
I hesitate for just a breath.
Then our girl’s gut-wrenching and helpless sobs cut through the speakers. “Stop! Please… ahhhhh! Please stop!” Bella cries, her pain bouncing off the walls and rattling in my ears.
“I told you, Lexie, she’ll pay for your disobedience.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I raise the bat and slam it into his forehead. Once. Twice. Skull meets wood with a wet, splintering sound.
Again.
And again.
Until the only sound left is my own rabid breathing. No more of Bella’s screaming echoing in my ears. No more whimpering and grunting of a distant family member. Just a limp body and a deep red pool soaking into the mat under my boot.