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Samuil steps closer, his proximity comforting. "Look, all I want is for you to be safe, to be happy. If there's anything I can do—"
I raise a hand, stopping him. "You're already doing it. Just being here, offering to help… it means everything."
We stand there, lost in the moment, the connection between us evident. Samuil has always been my rock, even when I’m too stubborn to admit it. I feel an overwhelming urge to lean into his embrace, to let him shield me from the world outside.
Instead, I force a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm so worried about Viktor. I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong."
Samuil's gaze hardens, determination replacing concern. "We'll find him. I promise."
Despite my worry, a smile tugs at my lips. "You always know just what to say, don’t you?"
He shrugs, a smirk playing on his mouth. "What can I say? I've had years of practice dealing with a stubborn Zaitsev."
I laugh, the sound breaking the tension. It feels good, a brief moment of levity in an otherwise dark night. But as the rain continues to pour and the minutes tick by, the reality of our situation settles back in.
The muffled sounds of shouting and pandemonium reaches our ears, drawing attention away from our conversation. I exchange a worried look with Samuil, and together we rush toward the noise. My heart races, each step filled with a sense of impending dread.
Turning a corner, a sickening sight meets our eyes: my brother, crumpled in a heap, his face a swollen mess of blood and bruises. His clothes are torn, his breathing ragged. Blood pools around him, glistening eerily in the dim light of the corridor.
"Viktor!" I scream, dropping to my knees beside him. I feel for a pulse, relief washing over me as I sense the steady beat beneath my fingers. He’s in bad shape, but he’s still alive.
Samuil swears under his breath as he pulls out his phone. "I'm calling for help."
But as he speaks, an announcement booms over the loudspeakers, echoing through the hall. "Next up, Viktor Zaitsev!"
Panic seizes me. We need the money from this fight, now more than ever. The thought of backing out is inconceivable. I make a snap decision.
"I'll fight in his place," I declare, rising to my feet.
Samuil's eyes widen in disbelief. "Ana, no! It's too dangerous."
I meet his gaze, determination steeling my resolve. "I've trained for this as much as he has. I can do it."
Samuil shakes his head, his voice filled with desperation. "You don’t understand, it's not just about rules. The fighters here are brutal, unyielding. They won't care that you're a woman."
But I’m already walking away, stripping off my outer layers revealing the athletic wear beneath. I can hear Samuil shouting after me, but his words are a distant blur. My focus is on the ring, on the fight ahead.
I hear Viktor's voice, weak but urgent. "Samuil..."
I turn to see him, his eyes fluttering open, struggling to focus on his friend. Samuil rushes to his side, crouching down beside him. I hesitate, torn between my brother and the fight ahead.
"Get me a cab," Viktor rasps, his voice filled with pain. "I need to get to the hospital. But you... you have to watch over Ana."
Samuil's eyes meet mine, filled with conflict. "Viktor, I can't let her do this."
I watch as Viktor's grip on Samuil's arm tightens, the urgency clear in his gaze. "She's going to get herself killed, Samuil. You have to be there for her. Promise me."
Samuil nods, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise."
Viktor gives a weak smile, then slumps back, unconscious once more. I take a deep breath, pushing away the fear that threatens to overwhelm me. I can do this. I have to.
With one final, steeling breath, I step through the arena doors.
The atmosphere is electric, a pulsating energy I can feel in my bones as I stride through the crowd, their jeers and whistles creating a cacophony of disbelief and mockery. The very walls of the warehouse vibrate with the roar of the eager audience, a mix of contempt and excitement flashing in their eyes.
Everywhere I look, faces contort in surprise and disbelief that a woman would dare step into the ring. The scent of sweat, stale beer, and blood fill the air. But no matter the taunts and jeersthrown my way, my eyes stay fixed on the platform ahead, my heart racing with determination. They have no idea what they're about to witness.
I step into the ring, hearing the gasps of the crowd as they realize I’m taking Viktor's place. Some look skeptical, others amused, but I pay them no mind. My focus is on the opponent before me, a towering brute of a man who sneers down at me with undisguised contempt.
