Chapter 2
Chapter two
Alisa
Natalya walked inside the Pakhan’s massive meeting room, and settled into a folding chair beside me.
“Alisa, you look like shit,” Natalya Markova, my only friend in the Bratva, said in her typical blunt manner.
I glanced at the small needle pricks inching up my wrist. My doctor, nicknamed Dr. Poison in the underworld for his unorthodox methods, had taken a liter of my blood yesterday. If only his treatment had stopped at that then my skin might not have looked nearly translucent.
I sighed. Microdosing myself with poisons didn’t do wonders for my complexion.
After starting a new regiment, coming here was the last thing I’d felt like doing today. But when the Pakhan called all the candidates from his competition in for a meeting, you showed up.
“Appreciate the compliment,” I said dryly.
Her only response was a shrug. Before I could change the subject, a dark energy pulled my gaze away from her.
Dmitri. I could sense him before I even turned my head.
And I was far from the only one looking. The moment Dmitri Novikov stepped into the massive room, the attention of a hundred people seemed to gravitate towards him.
Not that he paid us any mind. His chiseled face appeared almost bored as his long legs carried him across the room.
Once Dmitri settled into a chair in the front row, I watched Natalya reluctantly tear her attention away from him.
I knew she was about to say something about him, but that conversation topic was the last thing I wanted. I’d spent the last week looking over my shoulder waiting for Dmitri to exact revenge for defying him.
Sometimes when it was late at night and the darkness of the city was stretching all around me, I could’ve sworn I heard his sardonic chuckle. Yet every time I whipped around, I saw nothing but dirty sidewalks and unfamiliar faces.
Natalya’s incoming comment was interrupted by a voice near the front. A voice that always set my teeth on edge.
The Pakhan.
The leader of the Vassiliev Bratva and the person who’d created this competition to become his heir.
Now that all the candidates were gathered here, he was reading off a list of our current rankings.
Natalya nudged me when the Pakhan read my new ranking: Number Twenty.
I’d been taking on extra assignments to gain more points and try to increase my ranking in the competition. Points were based on the difficulty of the assignment and how cleanly you handled it.
There were certain assignments that the Pakhan would only entrust to the highest ranked competitors. And I had to imagine with the added danger came higher points.
Twenty was higher than I’d ever been ranked before. Higher than even my brother Kiril had reached….
The Pakhan’s eyes met mine, and my stomach dropped.
No matter how long I lived, I’d never forget the cold smile on the Pakhan’s face when he saw my brother’s dead body.
As he moved on to the next names, I kept my expression even.
Predictably, Dmitri was ranked number one. He’d been for years. The amount of points he had was exponentially higher than the other competitors.
Sometimes I wondered why we continued on in this competition when the distance between him and everyone else was so great. Everyone knew he was the Pakhan’s heir apparent.
Not that he even reacted when the Pakhan read his ranking. Nothing in the last few minutes had shifted his expression from boredom.
Not even when the Pakhan’s demeanor shifted into irritation.
“Last week, I had an interesting conversation with some Italians," the Pakhan said. "They insinuated that some of my people were weak.
“As you know, weakness is not something I permit within my ranks. Let alone someone in line to be my heir. So today, I will evaluate you in sparring matches against your fellow candidates.
“The rules are simple: No killing and hold nothing back.”
I noticed he mentioned nothing about maiming.
My heart stuttered as he described how it would work. He’d be calling up candidates in the fight for the throne, and we’d have to fight until either we tapped out or were unconscious.
The winner of each match would obviously gain points towards their ranking. If you were knocked out, you’d lose some points.
But you’d lose a massive amount if you yielded.
I prayed I wouldn’t be paired with someone completely sadistic. But that was a tall order in the Bratva. Especially among the competitors who’d been raised with the sole goal of becoming the Pakhan’s heir.
“Dmitri Novikov, you’ll start,” the Pakhan said. “Mikhail Kuzin, you’ll face him.”
Mikhail cracked his tatted neck after he stood up from his seat. I’d heard muttered grumblings from him when the Pakhan announced the rankings. He didn’t like being ranked fifteenth, and it was obvious from his bold strides he thought this was his opportunity to increase his standing.
Dmitri’s expression of boredom didn’t lift as he approached the blue mats at the front of the room.
Mikhail’s hand clenched into a fist as he glared at Dmitri. The last time the candidates had been gathered, Mikhail hadn’t even had the balls to look Dmitri in the eye when he passed. What had changed?
And then I noticed that Mikhail’s arm muscles had seemed to double in size in the span of a few weeks. Roids.
Hell, maybe with all that roid rage he’d actually be able to get a punch in, and mess up Dmitri’s obnoxiously chiseled face.
“I will fucking destroy you,” Mikhail snarled.
Dmitri raised an eyebrow. Dark humor flickered across his face.
Mikhail charged towards Dmitri with a roar. Dmitri remained casually still as if he was waiting for a taxi instead of a roided out asshole who wanted to kill him. When he was a foot away, Mikhail raised his beefy arm towards Dmitri.
Dmitri’s fist slammed into Mikhail’s throat, and Mikhail collapsed backwards onto the mat while clutching his neck. Mikhail’s face purpled as he tried to gasp air back into his lungs.
Dmitri stepped over him. “What was that? I thought you were going to destroy me.”
Rage flared in Mikhail’s eyes, and Dmitri smiled back icily.
“I-I’m going to-” Mikhail gasped out.
Dmitri slammed his foot down on Mikhail’s throat. When Mikhail started thrashing underneath him, Dmitri’s eyes glowed. He kept pressing down even as Mikhail’s face turned blue.
Eventually, Mikhail went limp, but Dmitri still didn’t remove his foot.
“You’re not allowed to kill him,” the Pakhan warned.
For a moment, I thought Dmitri was going to defy the Pakhan. A tendon ticked in Dmitri’s jaw, anger flaring across his face. But he picked up his foot…
And slammed it down on Mikhail’s wrist. Bone snapped underneath the force of the strike.
The room was completely silent while someone cleared away Mikhail’s unconscious body.
“Andrei Nosik, you’re up next,” the Pakhan said.
Andrei’s face went paler than snow. He stood up from his chair unsteadily, but he still approached the mat.
For a moment, Andrei trembled on the mat, just absorbing Dmitri’s stormy temperament.
“Don’t make me come to you,” Dmitri said.
Andrei’s eyes widened before he jerkily rushed towards Dmitri.
Dmitri grabbed Andrei by the neck and lifted him. Andrei kicked his legs out ineffectually as Dmitri tightened his grip.
When Andrei’s eyes rolled into his head, none of the sadism in Dmitri’s gaze seemed to dissipate.
“Can you pick someone a little less boring?” Dmitri drawled before dropping Andrei’s unconscious body unceremoniously to the ground.
I felt bad for whoever the Pakhan called to the mat next.
“Alisa Solovyova, you’re up,” the Pakhan ordered. My soul fled my body when I heard my name.
But then something even more terrifying happened.
When Dmitri tilted his head in my direction, he smiled.