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With that, I usher her away from the ring and through the crowd, which is not an easy feat. Everyone there wants to know who this woman is, the fighter who deftly took down a man three times her size. We make our way through the corridors and to the office I’d been using.
In the dimly lit space, the low hum of the crowd outside filters in through the thick walls. Ana lies stretched out on my office couch, still buzzing from the adrenaline, her sleek form still gleaming with the sweat of the fight. Every breath she takes causes the curves of her muscles to flex subtly, a tantalizing display of strength and resilience.
She undoes her hair tie, her long, black hair spilling around her like a dark halo, contrasting starkly with the paleness of the couch. Those lush lips, slightly parted, hint at exhaustion but also an underlying fierceness that draws me in.
Her toned arms, legs, every inch of her, screams power yet remains undeniably feminine. I find myself struggling to tear my eyes away, each second increasing the risk of her catching me in this indiscreet moment of admiration.
I force myself to look elsewhere, every ounce of my self-control tested.
"Why the hell are you doing this?" I ask, my voice hushed, attempting to keep the mix of anger and concern from overwhelming me.
She shrugs, wincing slightly as I start wrapping a bandage around her ankle. "Viktor can't. Someone has to."
"Not like this, Ana. Not this."
Her green eyes meet mine, defiant but also searching for something. I can't help but get lost in them every time our gazes lock. It's a secret I've harbored for too long, always carefully tucked away behind a mask of casual camaraderie.
"I have to prove a point, Samuil. Prove it to everyone and maybe to myself as well."
I sigh. "You're reckless."
She chuckles softly. "Says the man who has been in more fights than he can count."
"That's different."
"Why? Because I'm a woman?"
I shake my head. "No. Because you're you. And you mean a lot to... people."
Her eyes glitter with amusement and something deeper, something I can't quite place. "Just 'people'?"
Swallowing hard, I nod. "Yeah. Just people."
There's an intimacy in the silence that ensues. The smallness of the room, combined with the intensity of the moment, suddenly feels suffocating. For years, I've kept my distance, honoring the unwritten code that she's off-limits. But now, with her in such close proximity, with her life potentially on the line, those barriers seem inconsequential.
Finishing with the bandage, I sit back, and take a deep breath. "You can't go through with the Death Match."
She frowns, drawing her knees to her chest. "I can and I will."
"You could die, Ana."
Her gaze softens. "So could you. Any time you step into that ring or go on one of your missions for the Bratva."
"It's not the same."
She tilts her head, her long black hair cascading down one shoulder. "Isn't it? We're both fighters, Samuil. This is who we are."
I look away, my thoughts chaotic, the feelings I've kept buried for so long threatening to spill out. "I just, I can't lose you. Not like this."
Her fingers brush against my chin, gently turning my face to meet her eyes. "You won't. I promise."
Despite her assurances, fear gnaws at me. "I've seen what happens in those matches, Ana. It's brutal."
She pulls her ankle closer, testing its flexibility. "I've trained for this. I can handle it."
"I don't doubt your skill. But one misstep, one moment of hesitation..."
The intensity in her eyes is unwavering. "I know the risks. And I'm willing to take them."
