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With each passing second I could hear the shouts growing louder. I could feel the energy rising in the cavernous room. God, this place was huge. All exposed rock walls as if they’d been dug out and just left to their own natural severity. The flooring was standard gray cement, the ceiling a highway of red beams, wires, and caged fluorescent lighting.
And then there was the cage, a massive structure that seemed to dominate the space. I rose on my toes to see if I could get abetter look. I caught glimpses of rusty colored smears on what was probably a once white cage mat.
Razoreniye. Razoreniye. Razoreniye.
The name was shouted over and over again, ringing in my ears.
Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon
Whoever—whatever—they were shouting for was about to make itself known.
I kept to the farthest back wall, but my focus was on the cage. And with each passing second the crowd seemed to get even more frantic, as if whatever was about to happen was what they’d come here for.
I was at the corner of the room when I stopped, rising up on my toes and getting a good vantage point of the cage. An announcer started saying something overhead but the crowd wouldn't be quiet enough for me to understand or hear clearly. And then a second later the crowd erupted in shouts and roars, and I swear the entire interior of the room was shaking, the walls threatening to crumble from the force itself
I couldn’t see anything, not with as many people as there were, not with how short I was. I contemplated moving further up when I saw the top of a dark head, and broad, bare tattooed shoulders.
The crowd calmed slightly when the announcer started speaking again, when the beast of the man climbed into the ring.
“The one. The fucking only.Razoreniyeis in the motherfucking ring to destroyyy.”
Skull splitting noise so that I had to cover my ears.
“I know we have some newbies in the crowd tonight. Get ready, you sick bastards, to watch the man they call Ruin, a Russian killing machine who is a certified sociopath.”
The crowd erupted in excitement after that.
And then I saw him, a hulking beast of a man who made Nikolai seem almost… soft in comparison. And it was because as I looked into his face I saw absolute nothing.
Nothing but focus, concentration, and a very clear need for the ruin his namesake was derived from.
The entire front of his chest was covered by a massive wolf’s head, a snarling beast with death in its eyes and blood on his snout. His body was covered with Bratva insignia tattooed on his scarred, tanned flesh.
I was frozen in place as I watched his opponent enter the cage, a man not nearly as tall or muscular, but still beefy, his hands like anvils, his bald head covered in swirling ink.
I didn’t know how long I stood there after they started fighting, but as blood and spittle painted the mat, as punches were thrown, flesh bitten out, cracks of bones being broken, and screams and roars of pain and violence, I knew I’d made a mistake.
A terrible mistake. I should have listened to Nikolai. I shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have inserted myself where I didn’t belong.
I was backing up, one hand held out behind me until I touched the cold wall. I curled my fingers around the straps of my shoes in my other hand, tightening them so hard around the delicate leather my knuckles ached.
I didn’t take my focus off the cage until I’d moved ten feet or so, not realizing I’d walked so far into this underground coffin. And that's what this place was. A home for death.
I was about to turn and run back up to the main level and barricade myself in the office. But when I spotted Nikolai standing off to the side of the cage, his dark head bent low as someone said something in his ear, a thick yellow envelope being passed to him, I was once again rooted to the spot.
Although Nikolai stood still, a scowl on his face, not doing anything threatening, he exuded power and strength, dominance and severity in whoever went up against him.
The crowd roared and I snapped my focus to the cage, sawRazoreniyetackle the other fighter to the ground and start throwing his fist against the side of his head. Blood sprayed everywhere, and when I glanced back at Nikolai, I watched as he stared at the cage, a splatter of blood on his cheek.
He ran a finger over that blood , a slow grin covering his face as if he got off on the violence. I clenched my thighs again as a wave of heat slammed into me.
And then it’s over, the fight finished,Razoreniyeclimbing off his unmoving opponent, his chest pumping up and down, sweat and blood dripping off his body. And I didn’t think the latter was his. Not a drop.
Razoreniyewalked to the edge of the cage and curled his hands around the fencing, his biceps flexing as he strained against it. Nikolai stepped forward and I could see his mouth moving, see the other man nod once. I found myself taking a step forward, some unseen force pulling me toward my husband.
But before I could move, a heavy arm wrapped itself around my waist and yanked me back so hard my head snapped back on my neck, my shoes fell from my fingertips, and I cried out in pain.
I instinctively reached for the arm, clawing at it, trying to get it off of me, but the grip was like iron, vice-like. And the harder I fought, the more I was dragged away into darker parts.
