The Mafia and His Obsession, Part 2 by Lylah James

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 21

 

 

Viktor

 

Hate.

Hate was a strong word.

And hate was exactly what I’d been living on. I’d been surviving on one emotion only: hate. Pure loathing.

I continued this fucked-up game while hating the man who started it.

I continued to play by Valentin’s rules…knowing I’d be the one to end it.

“I think this is a bad idea. Last night—”

“Your opinion is not needed,” I repeated once again.

“Viktor—”

I cut Yegor off before he could continue. “Do as you’re told and we won’t have a fucking problem.”

I heard his jaw snap shut, and from my position in the backseat, I watched as he glared at the darkened streets. “Is that understood?” I snarled, kicking the back of his seat.

Anger filled my chest. Rage clouded my thoughts. Fury bled through my veins.

Yegor hissed from under his breath, and I fought the urge to pummel my own man to the ground. He was a friend.

Though right now…my mind viewed everyone with hatred. An enemy.

Except her.

My Valerie.

Thinking of her was both a balm to my soul and a torture to my heart. My fists clenched and I felt my knuckles starting to ache.

“Understood, sir.”

I stayed silent as he stepped out of the car, and I waited for a second before he opened my own door. My skin pricked with a dangerous need to fight. To maim. To watch blood spill. To rid me of the throbbing adrenaline coursing in my body.

And that was exactly what I was about to do.

Yegor was against it. But fuck him.

He didn’t understand.

Nobody understood me.

The pain. The anger. The hatred. The hostile need to fight someone, to watch them bleed by my own bare hands before I could hurt those I cared about.

The self-inflicted pain in my chest every time I breathed knowing I had somewhat failed the woman I loved.

He didn’t understand why I needed to do this.

So his opinions didn’t matter.

He could shut the fuck up and follow me like the puppet he was.

Yegor was a friend. But I was also the fucking Alpha.

Stepping out of the car, I walked past him. He silently followed behind me. Close enough I could feel the heat of his body, but far enough to avoid walking ahead of me by even a step.

Right now, we weren’t brothers.

Right now, he was my soldier and he’d do my bidding.

The deeper I walked into the dark alley, the closer I got to my destination. I felt it call my name, felt it down to my bones. The air was cold and musky. It also smelled like garbage and shit. The long alley was so dark we could barely see anything, but I knew my way around.

One after another, I continued to step forward.

Beat. Thump. Beat. Thump.

When I was close enough to hear the roars and the loud cheering coming at the end of the alley, I blew out a loud shuddering breath.

This place was a shit-hole, yet right now, it almost felt like home.

This fucked-up place was on the opposite side of Moscow from where Valentin’s estate was. Deserted from civilization. I was far away from him…and from her.

And here, I could be anything I wanted.

This dirty, filthy loud place, it was now my solace.

My shoulders relaxed, and I flexed my hands before closing them into a fist.

A few more steps forward and I was exactly where I wanted to be. I could breathe better, finally.

The roars were louder, like thunder to my ears. The sounds vibrated through my chest and I felt it with each intake of breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Beat. Thump. Beat. Thump.

“Fighting or watching?” a voice asked beside me.

My gaze found what I was looking for. At the end of the alley, there was light. And hundreds of people. They were formed into a circle, some jumping on their feet and everyone shouting in unison. Urging. Roaring for victory.

In the middle…there were two men.

I couldn’t see them from where I was standing, but I knew this place like I knew my myshka’s body.

“Fighting,” I growled, turning to face the voice.

The man’s eyes widened at the sight of me. He was shorter than me, but his body was bulked up with muscles. His bald head was shining under the fluorescent light, and I saw the fear in his darkened eyes. He made a choked sound. “You—”

My lips twitched. Me. Their worst nightmare.

Ignoring the cowering man, I walked past him to the table against the far wall. The man sitting there nodded in my direction. His silent greeting was almost cold and my lips twitched again. Fuck, I loved this place.

“You are fighting again tonight?” his partner spoke up in disbelief.

I cocked my head to the side, regarding the skinny fellow. Raising an eyebrow, I waited silently. Zad snapped his mouth shut and looked down at his paper. “Umm, we can fit you in. Next round.”

“How many?” Nor demanded. My gaze moved to the other guy. He was usually silent, except when it came to important business.

“Two rounds. I don’t need the money.” My voice sounded unreal to my own ears.

I only wanted blood.

I just wanted the fucking fight. No money.

I was already filthy rich as it was. Their dirty money made no difference for me.

Suddenly, the group went crazy.

Nor looked behind me and then nodded in satisfaction. We had a winner.

This place was a death-pit.

And everything I needed right now.

“Put me in,” I growled, my veins throbbing with adrenaline.

“Next!” Zad shouted on top of his lungs. He looked back at me, his eyes lighting up with a devious smile. “We figured you might come back tonight. We had someone ready for you. He has never…lost. But you will fight him in the second round. First round, you get to fight our first winner from tonight. He’s had some time to recover since the first fight, so don’t think you’ve got an advantage. I’ve got the best fighters right now, and we’re making money tonight. A shitload. Good luck.”

Perfect.

I nodded, sending him a cold look. If he thought I was losing tonight, then he was mistaken.

The only one walking out of here alive was…me.

Viktor Ivanshov never lost.

Shrugging off my jacket, I threw it at Yegor. He caught it with a solemn expression. Walking past him, I slapped his shoulder and then leaned forward to whisper, “Stop looking at me like you’re already planning my funeral.”

He swallowed, closing his eyes for the briefest second before opening them again. He stared right at me. “Good luck.”

“Now that’s more like it.” I winked before walking off.

The crowd split in the middle, making a clear path for me. Some of the girls tried to reach forward and touch me, but my snarls stopped them. They tried to smile and seduce, but none of them held an appeal to me.

You’d think this place would only be filled with men and raging testosterone, but I was surprised to find that females seemed to like watching men fight to the death. And very few times, we got to see some bitches going at it too.

Now in the middle of the circle, the sound of the audience cheering made my stomach clench. My opponent joined me, and a growl rumbled through my chest.

I could hear the people screaming, shouting and urging us to start the fight, but I tuned them out.

The need to kill thrummed through my body. It was the only way to stop the rage. For a small amount of time, before I had to come back here. Before I’d lose my shit again.

My blood boiled under my skin, searing through my veins. My body stiffened as I watched my opponent prowl closer. I surveyed with a cold bored stare. He was an easy target.

An easy fight.

Easy blood to spill.

Easy fucking death.

When he lunged at me, my brain shut down.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

There was pain, a raging fire in my body as I let him hit me. My stomach caved me where he landed a hard punch. I played with him, with his mind. He thought he had an upper hand. He thought he could win.

I let him believe the little lie.

I moved around the circle, letting him hit me twice before I hit him back once. It went on like that.

My knees buckled when he got my leg, and I went down. He came forward, thinking he got me.

Stupid.

Rearing back, I pushed away from his oncoming assault and got back to my legs. He lost his balance. Before he could go down, I lifted my leg and my knee made contact with his fragile ribs.

There was a harsh crack.

The crowed roared.

I snarled, hitting him again and again.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

He howled, but I didn’t let go.

I didn’t fucking let go until he went limp in my arms.

My breathing was ragged as I watched his useless body fall on the dirty ground.

The shouting from the audience became deafening. I rolled him over with my foot until he was on his back. His eyes were opened, staring into the dark sky. His face was bloodied, and my gaze traveled to his chest where all my attention had been during our fight.

It was a bloody fucking mess.

And I smiled.

His ribs had broken through the sensitive skin, and two of the bones stuck out almost mockingly. Blood paved the ground, turning it darker.

I wasn’t done yet.

I panted, the need to maim not yet subdued. My gaze found Zor, silently asking him to start my next round.

He seemed to understand the look on my face because he nodded and shouted something. I couldn’t hear what he said, the crowd now growing louder and louder.

My head started to ache and my muscles were locked tight, awaiting my next victim.

The crowd parted once again, and I saw him.

I remembered Zad’s words. He has never…lost.

I now understood what he meant. The black man standing in front of me was huge, easily weighing a hundred pounds of muscles more than me. I was tall and lean. He was tall, wide and bulked with tensed muscles. Definitely steroids. And drugs. He looked high as fuck. But the type of drugs that made him wilder, stronger, and more savage in his attacks.

You see, this place had no rules. Not like the legal fighting.

This pit only had only one rule.

Death or, if you want, tap-out before you die.

The sad reality—not a lot of fighters got to tap out.

I watched my opponent crack his neck, left and right before he cocked his head to side, regarding me with a disinterested look on his face.

He seemed to assess me like I did to him.

I saw something in his eyes, a darkness that reflected mine.

There was no time for the firing round. We didn’t wait.

No, one minute we were standing very still, facing each other across the circle.

And the next second, we both lunged for each other.

I ignored the roar of the audience.

I ignored everything except him.

My gaze found his hands. Spiked brass knuckles. Deadly.

I looked for any weakness from him. His neck. His heart. His ribs. His knees. Those were his vulnerable points.

He was vicious as he came at me. I didn’t have time to duck or protect myself. His fist found my stomach, and I snarled as agony coursed through my body.

He was relentless in his assault. This man was a trained fighter.

I was not.

I only fought to release my anger.

The spike of his brass knuckles sliced through the skin of my arms. The blade left a fiery pain behind. Fuck. I felt the blood running down my arms, and for the briefest moment, I felt something in my chest. Something tight and worrisome.

Fear.

This man…he could kill me. Right here. Right now. Tonight.

There was a possibility I wouldn’t make it out alive…a possibility I wouldn’t see Valerie again.

NO.

Enraged at the thought, I roared. The man suddenly charged at me, taking us both down. I saw him lift his fist up, the one with the deadly weapon. He smirked, and I saw my death. The crowd went savage, closing in on us. It was insanity. The air bled fury and danger.

Knowing he was bigger and stronger than me, I wouldn’t be able to move. He had me pinned down. His eyes flashed darker, murderous. I couldn’t die.

Struggling under his body, I was able to push my arm up. His neck. He left his neck vulnerable for me.

Without thinking, I jabbed two fingers into the side of his neck, hard enough to have him cough out a ragged breath. His muscles tightened and he flinched for the briefest second. My head up came up and I slammed my forehead into his nose. A crack.

He growled, slamming his fist down. But he was blinded in pain, and I turned my head to the side, feeling his fist coming down on the ground only an inch away from my face.

Rolling my hips, I knocked him onto his back. He fell over, and I stood up, not giving him a chance. I saw nothing but red as I slammed my feet down on his knee, hearing another crack. I felt nothing but immense rage as he kicked me back with his other leg. Stumbling away, I watched as he stood up on a shaky leg.

His crazed eyes were fixated on me.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

He lunged at me again. I waited for him to get closer before I wrapped my arm around his waist, pushing him back with the weight of my body. We were two enraged monsters.

You are a failure, Viktor.

The Devil was back, sitting on my shoulders.

Is this your way of feeling in power?

He mocked me.

You failed Valerie. You let Valentin fuck her. Right in front of you. A failure. You are weak. Weak.

A fucking failure.

His voice resonated through my ears, hurting me, enraging me.

You think shedding the blood of others will erase what you’ve let happen to her?

He laughed.

Weak. You are weak. Give up.

NO!

He laughed louder. Don’t you ever wonder…when Valerie looks at you…does she think of what you’ve done to her…what you’ve let Valentin do to her? You used her…like he did…

Punch.

I felt a crack under my fist.

She must hate you.

I felt another crack. His arm. Through the red…dark fog I saw that his arm had been bent in an impossible way.

Valerie hates you.

STOP!

You hate yourself, don’t you? Tsk. Tsk. Weak.

His teeth gritted so hard I wondered if his jaw wasn’t breaking under this pressure. He held his arm closer to his chest and growled at me, stumbling over his legs.

What can you give Valerie? Safety? You failed in that. Love? You failed when you sat there watching Valentin fuck her.

FUCKING STOP!

My head ached and my body throbbed. Confused and blinded by the devil’s constant mocking in my ears, I didn’t see him coming at me. His brass knuckles made contact with my stomach, under my ribs. Pain seized me, and I almost went down on my knees. I held my breath for a second, feeling the intense throb before I inhaled.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Tsk. Maybe if you died tonight…

No. I wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to die. I had to return to Valerie.

I had been sliced, bleeding, stabbed, breathless…weak.

But I wasn’t losing.

Every part of me was hurting. Pain and exhaustion. Pain and rage.

My opponent hissed and tried to come at me again, but I successfully avoided his jab. He stumbled and jolted forward; I reared my arm back and then punched him as hard as I could in his ribs. Not giving him time to recover, I moved behind him and jabbed my elbow into the column on his spine, where I knew he was fragile.

He went down and I climbed onto him.

Punch. Crack. Punch. Crack.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

The Devil wouldn’t stop laughing. And I fought harder.

You failed her.

No.

She hates you.

No.

Removing the brass knuckles from his hand, I put it in my own.

Punch. Crack. Slice. He bled.

His breathing became ragged.

His bones were mangled. His body was a mess.

You failed her.

“NO!” I screamed.

My fist came down over and over again. My opponent’s face became unrecognizable. The spikes were bloodied from their owner’s death.

Death.

He was dead.

But I couldn’t stop.

I was done…yet I couldn’t fucking stop. The pent-up aggression and rage I had held in me for so long became unleashed.

I was fucking incensed.

A mad mad mad man. Crazed and obsessed. Broken and weak.

A fighter.

A killer.

I was so wrong for her. My sweet myshka. This man I was, this man I’d become in a week since I failed her.

The body went limp underneath me…I felt…nothing.

Lifting my hand up one more time, I brought down my fist and felt it crunch the face of my opponent one final time. My vision cleared, the fog in my brain disappeared, the devil was gone, and my thoughts were mind again.

His eyes were wide open. Glazed over and empty.

My heart raced. My chest tightened and my stomach caved.

I knew I was losing blood as my vision started to blur, and I felt sluggish, tearing over the edge of conscious and unconsciousness.

The crowed exploded, going insane. The air was charged with excitement.

I won.

Yet…

Why? Why?

Fucking why did I feel so damn hollow?

The Devil was right.

I was weak. I did fail my Valerie.

She didn’t hate me, though.

Except…I wished she did.