Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I heard about the illegal, underground fighting match after eavesdropping on my guards tonight. They’d been tossing back too many shots and had loose lips. And when they started talking about a fighter named D’yavol and how it would be an incredible match, my interest piqued instantly.
So I listened harder, and when one of them asked how to get in, the other guard had been stupid enough—and loud enough—to say the code phrase for entrance.
I told them I was going to bed, waited an hour to make sure they thought I was good and asleep, and then I snuck out.
It was easy with the fire escape right outside my bedroom window. It had been risky to dodge the security camera my brothers installed and slip through the one and only blind spot, but I managed.
So here I was—my personal cell phone back on my nightstand because it was tracked and a burner cell in my purse—walking up to the abandoned slaughterhouse, while four burly-ass-looking guys watched me.
Three out of four of them had cigarettes between their lips, a cloud of smoke swirling around them. When I got close enough, I smelled the alcohol seeping from their pores.
I slipped my hand into my purse and curled my fingers around the small pistol Dmitry had given me months ago.
My brothers made sure I had my own weapons. Guns. Knives. Pepper spray.
They trained me on how to use them… how to kill a man with them.
Dmitry and Nikolai loved me. They were nothing like how our father had been. They didn’t see women as vessels or attachments or accessories. They saw them as queens to stand beside kings.
They knew women could be just as strong as their male counterparts, if not stronger.
So, even at my young age, I knew how to put a bullet between these fuckers' eyes without batting an eyelash.
My brothers were the smartest people I knew. They had to be in order to be ruthless Bratva Pakhans.
But I was just as smart, and my entire life, I’d been quiet and I watched. I watched everyone around me. I took notes on what the evil men who always surrounded me did, how they acted, and how they survived.
I filed away everything so that if—or, more likely, when—I ever needed it… I’d know what to do.
The men gave me a once-over, and right before I got to the door, three went inside, and the biggest one, who had the meanest expression, placed his boxer-like body in front of the metal door, blocking the entrance.
He said nothing as he crossed his arms and stared me down.
He slowly grinned, flashing a gold tooth in the side of his mouth. “Тебе уже пора спать, малышка. Беги туда, где безопасно, и Бабайка тебя не схватит.” It’s past your bedtime, little girl. Run along, where it’s safe, and the boogeyman won’t snatch you up.
I didn't respond to his condescending jab. I knew he couldn't deny me entrance once I said what he needed to hear in order to open the damn door. “Семь желтых бабочек умирают под солнцем.” Seven yellow butterflies dying under the sun.
The code phrase made no sense—not to me anyway—but it wouldn’t matter even if it was a jumble of words spewing from my mouth. As long as they were correct, that was all that mattered.
His smile faded, and his stoic expression slid back into place. “Это опасно внутри.” It’s dangerous inside.
I still kept my fingers around the pistol. “Я могу с этим справиться.” I can handle it.
There was a suspended moment of silence between us before he stepped aside and gave a hard rap on the metal with his knuckles, and then the door opened. “Удачи.” Good luck.
I didn’t respond as I stepped inside, and the door closed behind me with a heavy whomp.
This was my first time being at Butcher and Son.
This was my first time going to an illegal fight.
But this wasn’t the first time I smelled death. It was the stench of old blood, violence, and torture that never left a person’s memory once they inhaled it.
Although there was hardly any visibility but for the muted, caged lights that hung above me as I walked down a suspect hallway and a rickety staircase, there wasn’t anywhere for me to go except forward, so I kept walking.
When I got to the bottom, the stench of body odor, spilled beer, and aggression instantly claimed me. I could hear the noise and chaos becoming louder the deeper I made my way into the warehouse.
People leaned against the walls on either side of me, and all watched me with a level of distrust and suspicion. Hell, I was looking at them the same way.
And then I was standing in a massive room filled to the brim with a crowd screaming toward the center, where a huge boxing ring was set up. The people were packed in like sardines, and the heat and humidity made it hard to breathe.