Page 5 of Ruthless Prince

“Make room for the Kraken!” the announcer shouts, causing the crowd to go wild as I jump into the ring.

My opponent is a young man with green paint over his face. He likes to think of himself as a dragon. He’s not.

I use my speed to slither around the ring and grab my opponent in a neck hold. It’s why my stage name is the Kraken. I’m fast and slippery, and once I have a hold of you, I don’t let go.

I force my opponent to the ground and get on his back, wrapping my arms harder around his throat. It’s satisfying to see his face turn red.

It only takes seconds for him to pound on the floor, signaling I’ve won this fight.

The entire match only lasts a couple of minutes.

The referee holds my hand up. The crowd cheers harder for me, clapping and stomping their feet. This underground fighting ring has been my home for many years. My father, Igor, trained me to be the best fighter this city has ever seen.

The smell of sweat and blood comfort me. It’s what I’ve been trained in all my life.

I step out of the ring and am instantly swarmed by a group of women. Some I’ve fucked before; others are new. I eye a brunette I’ve never seen before, and she offers me a flirtatious smile in return.

I approach her to ask if she wants to come back to my apartment when my father storms up to me.

“We have to go,” he says.

“What? Why?”

“Just do as I say, boy.”

Despite being twenty-six, my father treats me like a child. Buying my own apartment was a godsend. Just to have some peace and quiet.

I’ve been fighting in the rings for years now, making my father even wealthier than he already was. I grew up in mansions with him. We always moved around the state of New York, never quite staying in one place for too long. I tried asking my father about it once, but he brushed me off, and I never got an answer.

I follow Igor toward the front door when I see a woman who looks so out of place I have to stop and stare. She’s beautiful, with soft brown hair and a petite frame. Dressed in an innocent summer dress, she doesn’t match the usual women who frequent this place of dirt and grime. I want to ask her who she is and why she’s here, but Igor grabs my arm and forces me outside.

The cold hair hits my bare chest, sending goosebumps over my body. When I fight, I like to wear nothing but pants. My bare feet slap on the sidewalk. Thank god there isn’t snow on the ground yet, but that’s not really a consolation when my feet are still freezing.

“Move,” my father growls, leading me to his car.

He opens the door …

… and an explosion rocks him onto the sidewalk. His car goes up in flames. Someone rigged a bomb to it.

“Father,” I shout, rushing to his side. The blast caught his chest, and he’s bleeding. “Who did this?” I know my father is involved in shady business, but I’ve never asked too many questions about it. The reason? Whenever I would ask, Igor would turn me away and punish me. I learned to just stop asking altogether.

He gasps, the sound ragged. “Nico Mancini,” he manages to say right before he passes out.

I call for an ambulance, but when they arrive, my father is already dead.

The great Igor Antonov is gone.

A part of me is … relieved. I’ve always sort of hated my father.

But someone killed him, and for that, I can’t sit back and do nothing. He would expect me to avenge his death.

He gave me a name.

Nico Mancini is responsible for my father’s death, and I will find him and kill him to avenge my father.

Chapter

Two

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