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“Get up,” I whisper into my hand.
My heart is beating out of my chest as I watch Pasha push up, propping himself onto his elbows. He can do it. I know he can do it. He is almost up when his opponent approaches again and kicks him in his kidney. Pasha falls back down, rolling to his side. His face is turned toward the chain-link cage, directly in front of us. The crowd goes crazy. The applause, chants, and hollers are deafening. That damn beast walks around the cage, shouting something at the audience, laughing.
“Finish him!” someone from the crowd yells.
I stare at Pasha, waiting for him to get up, but he just keeps lying there, unmoving. He needs to get up, or the guy is going to kill him. I take off toward the cage.
Several more voices join in the cheering. “Finish him! Finish him!”
People are standing too close together, so I have to squeeze myself between them to get to the front. Bodies are touching me from all sides, making me want to throw up, but I keep pushing myself forward.
“Finish him! Finish him!” the chorus rings all around me.
I finally reach the cage and my eyes find Pasha again. He is still lying on the floor, his face is turned toward me, but I don’t think he sees me.
“Pasha!” I yell at the top of my lungs and vault at the cage.
“Pasha!” a female scream reaches me.
I blink and focus on the person clinging to the outside of the chain-link cage.
“Get up!” she yells, grabbing the mesh structure with her fingers. “Please!”
I close my eyes. As if it’s not enough that I dream about her every single night, now I’m hallucinating that she’s actually here.
“Pasha! Look at me!”
When I open my eyes, she’s still there, just a few feet in front of me. If I reach out with my hand, I could touch her fingers where they’re gripping at the wire, shaking it.
“Please, baby! Get up!”
My breath catches. “Mishka?”
As I watch, one of the security guys approaches Asya from behind and, wrapping his arm around her middle, pulls her away from the cage. She just grips the metal mesh harder.
“He’s coming!” Asya whimpers, looking somewhere behind me. “Get up!”
The guy keeps tugging at her, yelling something. Asya’s fingers slip off the links. As the guard carries her away, rage explodes in my chest. He dared to touch her! He put his dirty hands on my girl, and he’s wearing a fucking suit!
I roll onto my stomach and rise to face my opponent. He’s standing in the middle of the mat, looking at me, blocking my exit. I launch toward him. When my elbow slams into his diaphragm, the air leaves his lungs and he stoops forward. Grabbing his head, I knee him in the face. He stumbles. My leap on his back is swift. Once my arms are coiled around his neck, I squeeze—applying pressure to the back of his head while simultaneously forcing my forearm against his windpipe. The guy starts thrashing around, trying to throw me off. Keeping my choke hold on him, I wrap my legs around his midsection and dig my heels under his ribcage, tightening my grip. He thrashes a few more seconds before he drops to his knees and falls sideways with me still hanging on his back. I keep squeezing, listening to the wheezing sounds coming from his throat. Somehow, I hear them despite the thundering roar of the mob around us. His body goes limp. And I snap his neck. The crowd goes wild. I get up and run toward the cage’s exit.
The security guy still has Asya, carrying her toward the back where three other goons are holding Kostya down. A murderous growl leaves my mouth as I sprint toward them. The sea of people splits, letting me pass. The moment I reach the asshole manhandling Asya, I wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze. His hold on Asya loosens. As soon as she’s free, I let go of the man’s neck, grab him by the back of his jacket, and heave him to the side.
“Pasha,” Asya whispers behind me.
I turn to face her and just stare. I thought I’d never see her again, and having her here, standing before me, is tearing me apart inside.
“What are you doing here?” I bark. It’s killing me to be this close to her again.
Her lower lip is trembling as she watches me. The hand she’s pressing to her slender neck is shaking. She’s trying to keep her gaze on mine, but her eyes wander to the side every other second. I throw a look to the left where she keeps glancing and notice that some of the people from the audience have moved closer and are standing just a few feet away. Most of them are sharply dressed men. Suits and fucking ties!
“Shit, baby,” I mumble and take a step forward, wrapping her in my arms and blocking her view of the crowd. “Let’s go outside. Okay?”
She tilts her head up and, after a second of hesitation, places her palms on my chest. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. It’s hard to have her touching me, to be so close, to know I’ll have to watch her walk away again, going back into the arms of that fancy son of a bitch I saw kissing her. But I’ve already concluded that I’m one selfish bastard, and I’m going to take this opportunity to feel her in my embrace again, even if only for a short while.
I open my eyes and look down at her. “Want to hop on?”
The smile that spreads over her face as she strokes her hands up my chest feels like a knife burrowing itself into my heart. I bend and scoop her up. Asya’s arms wrap around my neck like so many times before.
