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I tighten my hold around her, feeling her body relax against mine. Her breathing deepens, signaling that she's drifting off to sleep, and I can't help but let out a contented sigh. Tonight has been a whirlwind of emotions—from the high stakes at the poker game to the intimacy we've shared—but lying with Ana, holding her close, feels like the perfect ending.
Chapter 14
Samuil
"Who's the unlucky lady?" Viktor asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tilts his head, making a pointed look at the mark on my neck.
Of course, he'd notice the hickey, I think to myself. Always observant, always aware. I should've worn a higher collar.
Viktor's room in the hospital is surprisingly bright for such an early hour. The morning sun filters through the blinds, casting golden hues on his battered face. Despite the injuries, there's an undeniable spark in his eyes. Being bedridden hasn't dimmed the fighter in him one bit. A temporary setback for a man like Viktor. He'll bounce back quickly, I'm sure of it.
Rather than answering his question, I glance around the room, taking in the fresh flowers on the bedside table, the cards from well-wishers, the hospital equipment beeping softly in the background. "You don't have to play coy with me," he continues with a teasing smirk, sensing my hesitation.
I shrug, looking away for a moment.
"Maybe there's someone," I admit, but I don't divulge any further details. The thought of Viktor finding out about Ana and me is nerve-racking, to say the least. There's no telling how he'd react, considering his protective nature toward her.
The weight of that secret adds a heavy atmosphere to the room, and I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for keeping him in the dark. Before the silence becomes too awkward, I steer the conversation in another direction.
"How are you feeling about the upcoming qualifier?" I ask, hoping to distract him. The Death Match looms large in our collective minds.
Viktor sighs, his fingers drumming on the bedsheet. "I won't lie, it's going to be tough, especially considering my current state. But I've been training and preparing long before this mess. I won't let it sideline me."
I nod, admiration for his tenacity evident in my gaze. The two of us are cut from the same cloth. Bratva blood running through our veins, always ready for a fight, no matter the odds. Yet there's an underlying tension in the room, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.
"You'll get through it," I reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're one of the best fighters I know."
He chuckles, wincing slightly at the pain the movement causes. "Thanks, Samuil. Means a lot coming from you." There's a brief pause before he adds, "Just promise me you'll watch my back."
"Always," I reply without hesitation. We've been through so much together, faced countless challenges, I'd never let him down. Not now, not ever.
He gives me a knowing look. I can tell he wants to press me further about the 'unlucky lady', but he holds back, at least for now.
The conversation drifts toward other topics—the state of the Bratva, our plans for the future, the daily grind. Still, in the back of my mind, the thought of Ana lingers, making me both anxious and excited for what lies ahead.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for the impending confrontation. "Viktor," I begin, my voice low and tense, "Ana's fighting in the Death Match."
The room's atmosphere instantly changes, the air charged with immeasurable tension. Viktor's eyes widen in shock, and then quickly narrow in anger. "You’re allowing this?" he spits, his voice filled with disbelief.
I push back a surge of defensiveness, trying to keep a level head. "It wasn't my choice, Viktor. She's doing this of her own free will. Besides, you of all people know how capable and determined she is."
His face flushes with a mix of anger and fear. "That's not the point. The Death Match isn't just any fight, it's more brutal and no holds barred than any other. ”
I nod in agreement, knowing full well the gravity of the situation. "I'm aware," I reply quietly, "and so is she. But she believes in her skills, in her strength. And so do I."
Rubbing his temples, Viktor seems to age a decade in mere seconds. He exhales heavily, his gaze fixed on the far wall. "I should've told her no. I should've stopped her."
"You know as well as I do that when Ana sets her mind on something, there's no stopping her," I remind him gently.
Viktor remains silent, but I can see the whirlwind of emotions in his eyes: anger, fear, uncertainty, and guilt.
Pushing forward, I dive into the other topic weighing on my mind. "Speaking of full disclosure," I say, leveling a piercing gaze at him, "Why didn't you tell me about the bet? About your plans to go to America with Ana?"
Viktor's expression turns to one of frustration. "It wasn't set in stone," he admits, his voice edged with weariness. "Just a fleeting dream, a distant possibility. The idea of a fresh start away from all this chaos. Where I could keep Ana safe."
"Clearly, fate has other plans," I note with a touch of bitterness.
Viktor looks pained. "I didn't want to burden you with it. Not until I knew for sure."
