Page 199 of Cashmere Ruin

When we clash again, it’s Yuri who pulls back bleeding. “That all you can do?”

He’s trying to provoke me.“You know exactly what I can do.”

“Then fucking come and do it.”

Once, I would’ve fallen for the taunt. But now, I listen—trulylisten—to the words, and the intent behind them becomes obvious.

Pressing the one advantage he has.

I’ve always had strength on my side. I’m bigger, taller, with thicker muscle and a heavier blow. When I strike, bones snap like twigs.

But there’s a drawback to that, and it surfaces when I face off against opponents like Yuri.

Speed.

“Why the rush?” I taunt back. “You got somewhere better to be?”

If I fall for his tricks—if I let myself lose my cool and charge blindly—I’ll be signing my own death sentence. It’s the one scenario where I’m vulnerable. It almost makes me wonder why he never used it against me before. If he had, he might’ve won a sparring match or two.

He respected you too much, whispers the voice at the back of my head.No matter what, you were still his big brother.

And he never wanted to see you fall.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts by Yuri charging again. He feints to the right, but I see right through it: with one swift move, I slam my elbow into his forearm and knock him back.

He almost drops the knife—almost. “You’re going to get them killed,” he snarls, barely audible.

“Carmine’s never going to honor the terms, Yuri.” I lunge, but he side-steps. “You might have been blinded by his promises, but I never was.”

“He will,” he counters with a slash aimed at my throat. “If he’s got nothing to gain and everything to lose, he will.”

“He’s a snake.” I dodge just in time, earning another superficial cut across my cheekbone. Any higher, and my eye would’ve been gouged out. “He left both our mothers to die. You really think that’s a coincidence? That wherever he goes, whatever ties he has, they all meet bloody ends?”

“He didn’t make them sick, Matvey.”

“No. But he sure as hell didn’t save them.”

I sweep his leg out from under him, sending him sprawled on his back on the dirty floor. He cries out in pain, the breath knocked right out of his lungs.

I could end it right here, but I don’t. “Get up,” I order. “I’m not done talking to you.”

He does as he’s told. “You’ll regret this,” he warns, wiping a bloody streak across his mouth.

I look at him. The man who was my brother. The boy who was alone, just him and snow and death.

“I know.”

Then we clash again in the middle of the arena.

“Think,” I hiss. “Think of everything he’s done.” I twist my knife to disarm him, but he holds on tight.

“This is pointless,” Yuri says. “What’s done is done.”

“This is the truth! He didn’t kill me then, and he regretted that. Do you really believe he’ll stop at me? That he won’t clean up all loose ends? April. May?—”

“Shut up.”

“—Petra—”

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