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“Because he told me to.”
“Mikhail, this isn’t right!”
I hush her gently, making sure to place myself between her and Konstantin’s line of sight. He’s already taking a seat, watching with a cool, steely gaze.
“Every member of the Antonov Bratva goes through this phase of initiation,” I tell her. “I take no pride in it, but it must be done.”
“Teach them a lessonhow?” she asks, tears welling in her eyes.
“Konstantin lets them fight for their pardon. If they knock me down, their transgressions are forgiven. If they don’t, they remain here until they do.”
“That’s sick.”
“I don’t disagree,kisa.”
“How many people have managed to knock you down?”
I grit my teeth. “None.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Can’t you just let them win?”
“If I don’t give it my all, Konstantin will know. And if he does, that means you—”
“What?” she demands. “What does this have to do with me?”
I suck in a sharp breath. God, I’m tired, but I can’t give up now. “He made me a deal, Aurora. As long as I keep up my performance, he promises to give you more and more privileges. The books, access to the east wing, reducing the number of guards on your detail…”
Her mouth drops open. “I thought those were because of my good behavior.”
“It’s a little bit of both,” I confess. “He’s fickle.”
My uncle clears his throat. “Come along, Misha. We have a lot of guests to get through, and we only have so much time.”
“Go take a seat, sweetheart,” I murmur to her.
She shakes her head. “I can’t watch you do this.”
I press my lips to her ear. “This is a test, Aurora. For you as much as it is for me.”
Aurora audible gulps. “You can’t be serious.”
“Whatever you do, don’t react. Don’t cry, don’t scream, don’t gasp. He’ll be watching. He needs to know you’re cut out for the Bratva. Do you understand? You must be brave.”
She nods shakily before giving me a quick, searing kiss. “For you,” she promises.
Her bodyguard, Alexi, guides her to her seat. Once she’s settled, I turn and head straight for the ring.
I’m more than aware of how brutal this is, how barbaric. However, I am in no position to question the old traditions of the Bratva. Our people were born from sweat and tears and blood. Our tenacity and viciousness are what saw us through many crueler winters and even crueler governing bodies. We’re an unforgiving bunch, or so they say—a brotherhood built upon the shoulders of the unyielding.
The guards bring out the first offender. He’s roughly ten years younger than me, tall and scrawny. My understanding is he was one of Konstantin’s dealers. Whether it’s arms or drugs, I can’t be sure. My uncle didn’t get too specific about the details. The point is this poor bastard made the unforgivable mistake of skimming off the top. Now, as Konstantin’s iron hand, I’m obligated to carry out his punishment.
“Please,” the man rasps in Russian, his hands up in defense. “It was a mistake. I’ll never do it again.”
I roll up my sleeves and undo the first button of my shirt collar. I stretch my neck from side to side. I don’t want to do this, not with Aurora here, but I have no choice.
“Fight me,” I tell him. “Or you’ll spend another week in the hole. Is that what you want?”
“Just beat me to death. Put me out of my misery.”
