Page 5 of Forced By the Bratva

Shaking my head, I proceeded to the bright lights I could see ahead of me. I sometimes missed the thrill and adrenalin. That was one of the reasons I preferred to stay clear of such places. But I promised Mila that I wouldn’t fight and intended to keep that promise.

Entering the main area, stale beer and cigarettes filled my nostrils. I decided to take a quick walk-through and see what the place had to offer.

The bar area had a comfortable set-up. The bar counter ran along the back wall in a curve. It offered good access, and the seating was spaced for viewing the ring. The tables were also placed at angles apart, giving most spectators a reasonable view. At first glance, the place looked like a solid investment.

After grabbing a beer, I moved towards the ring. Two bulky men were swinging away at each other. The one was about a head taller with a darker complexion than the other contestant. However, the shorter guy was better built. Not that it meant anything in these kinds of fights. I had learned that the hard way in my younger years.

Space at the tables was quite limited. But I found an open spot at a table with two other men. They seemed preoccupied in their conversation. They didn’t even notice me as I sat down. The taller guy was taking a beating from the shorter one in the ring. But as can happen with such events, it was short-lived.

The taller man was down on his hands and knees. The other guy kicked him in the side. There was a sudden loud smacking sound as the taller man clamped the muscular leg of the other. With one smooth motion, he yanked the other guy to the ground. You could hear his breath leaving his chest as he made contact with the hard floor.

I also thought I heard a cracking noise. But I couldn’t be sure as the crowd rose and started screaming. Watching that takedown, combined with the distinct odor of blood, flooded my mind with memories.

I preferred leaving them in the past but being here made it harder to do. My vision blurred for a second as I remembered hearing Mila’s concerned voice ringing out into the air.

The pain I went through. The recovery and the possibility of never walking again had stopped my fighting career. Shaking my head to clear it from the ghosts that sometimes haunted me, I turned my attention to the men at the table.

Looking at them, I knew they weren’t fighters. Both were most likely in their early twenties and overly skinny. One was wearing a nose and lip ring with shaggy jeans and a leather jacket. The other one seemed to be wearing make-up. It was hard to tell between the strands of the oily mop he had for hair covering his face.

Another young man brought drinks and joined them. He wore a hoodie covering most of his face, and I couldn’t see if he looked as disheveled as the other two. After placing the drinks down, he moved in between the others. Placing his arms around them, he leaned forward as he spoke.

“Hey man, you wunt believe what I heard, haha.” He spewed in a shrill tone.

The other two turned to look at him in unison. For a moment they made me think of an oldie comedy.

“I heard tha lady is the prize for the winner, man,” the hooded guy added, looking across the floor and pointing into the shadows.

Glancing in that direction, I could barely make out the woman sitting in the dark. Deciding I needed to get a better angle and reassess the club, I got up. Heading back toward the reception area, I passed a table of elderly men. I only caught half of their conversation, but it made me think twice.

The one was asking about the dead fighters. The other replied something to the line of selling their organs. I wasn’t sure if I had heard correctly, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to stop and ask.

After a quick walk through the gambling area, I walked closer to the back of the ring. There was indeed a young woman seated there in the shadows. I wondered if I had missed something by coming late. Moving back to the bar, I was intent on finding out.

On my way, I passed some servers and heard them talking about Mr. Thompson. As I understood from Ashan’s friend, he was the owner. The young girls in their skimpy outfits were talking about another girl who was beaten for not listening. I felt my blood starting to boil.

Taking a second, I closely studied the patrons and staff. I realized that this wasn’t such a good investment. There was a lot more going on here than was legal. I felt sick and wanted to leave, but I remembered the young girl in the shadows. First, I would confirm the rumors, and then I would leave.

Standing by the bar, I signaled the barman. Mr. Thompson was turning out to be a sick and twisted man. I would discuss dealing with him with the rest of the crew later. As the barman came over, I heard a man’s voice booming behind me.

“Greetings, sir,” the man said as I turned to face him. “I hadn’t seen you here before. May I ask your name?”

It was him. It was Jones Thompson in the flesh. I recognized his face from the internet search I had done before I left home. Pressing my firm fists into the sides of my legs, I tried to speak in an even tone. I didn’t want him to notice the flare of rage he brought forth in me.

“I’m Piotr, and you must be Jones Thompson?”

“Indeed, I am,” he said, grinning. “I see you’ve heard of me, all good things, I hope?”

Nodding, I replied through clenched teeth. “Yeah, the best fights can be seen at your events, I’ve been told.”

The grin on his face grew, and I fought the urge to slap him so hard that he would never grin again. Before he could answer, another man came over and whispered something to him.

“I’ve got to go, but enjoy the show,” he said, then briskly walked away. He reeked of ammonia and a metallic blood smell.

Grabbing another beer, I watched him walk around the ring to the back. I noticed two big men dragging the short contestant out of the ring. The taller one was being assisted to the back by two young women.

The air filled with a sharp ring. Then, there was a huffed blow as a microphone was switched on. “Attention everyone, please,” a woman’s voice blared through the crowd. The place went so quiet one would hear a mouse squeak.

Glancing towards the other side of the room, where a light suddenly beamed brightly, I saw her. There in the chair sat the most stunning woman I had ever seen. Next to her stood Jones. He took the microphone from the skinny black-haired woman and kissed her on the cheek.

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