Page 9 of Fight

He watched the crowd solemnly but then began to smile. “There was interference”—he glared at the man before he continued—“but I am a man of my word. No matter the reason, the challenger survived. All bets placed in her favor will be paid.”

An uproarious cheer filled the room, and I watched Markov as he reveled in the adulation. I also struggled to figure out what would happen next.

Because there would be something.

As the crowd filed out, the interloper kept his hand on Ciprian’s, and Ciprian kept his eyes on Markov.

My plan was to sink into the floor and disappear, though it wasn’t working out so far.

When the room was finally empty, Markov stood and walked over, his shiny shoes clicking on the concrete. God, I hated that bastard. But this was one of the few times I’d been in his company that he seemed oblivious to my presence.

Instead he focused on the interloper.

“Ioan, you interfered,” he said.

Ioan.

My new best friend had an interesting name.

He looked at me with something like disgust in his eyes, and I frowned at him but quickly suppressed the expression, trying to remember that my job here was to disappear.

“You would have had him kill a defenseless woman,” he spat.

A little retrograde in his perspective, but I agreed with his basic premise, and his not even barely concealed disgust for Markov.

“Defenseless? Why don’t you tell him what you did to my soldier, koshenya?” Markov said, acknowledging me.

Speaking out of turn had gotten me into this situation, and as stupid as it was, the urge to do so again was burning at the tip of my tongue. But for one of the first times in my life, I chose not to speak.

“So quiet,” Markov said, a little smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Still, I held my tongue, though the most vile curses I could conceive of demanded to be spoken.

But I’d been close to death, way too close for comfort, and I would not let this viper tempt me toward my demise any further than he already had.

That sobering thought was chased by another, one that had me directing those vile curses at myself as I realized my newfound self-control would have been much more helpful two fucking weeks ago.

Water under the bridge now, so I used the common sense the good Lord only saw fit to intermittently give me and kept my mouth sealed shut.

Markov soon tired of staring at me and looked to Ioan. “You interfered. Clan Petran interfered. There will be consequences for that.”

“Consequences that I will determine.”

I turned at the sound of the newest voice, and watched as yet another man entered.

This was getting way out of hand, and I was having trouble keeping track of which scary-looking motherfucker was which.

And there was the not so small issue that with every face I saw, I was that much less likely to survive, and the chance of that was already pretty slim.

I knew what kind of shit Markov was into, and these guys were obviously into the same if not worse.

The deeper I got, the less likely it was that I would get out.

I wanted to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, and start screaming, but that probably wouldn’t help me either, so I continued to stay quiet.

“Anton,” Markov said, looking from Ioan and Ciprian to the latest newcomer.

It was the only time I’d ever seen him address someone with something that would pass for even a modicum of respect, and I wondered what kind of power the new man held if he could get to Markov.

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