Page 31 of Bratva Butcher

“We don’t know, at least not with one hundred percent certainty.” I slipped to the edge of the cot and placed my empty plate on the ground. “But I’m a person of my word, and I’veheardyou are, too.”

He grunted.

“We both know we have more of a chance of winning if we work together.” He took a sip from his water bottle, neither confirming or denying it. Fed up, I got to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m sick of playing devil’s advocate. Either agree to the truce or get ready for round two.”

“I think you mean round four, or is it five?” he scoffed, shaking his head. His eyes drifted to the side again—what the fuck is he looking at?—before he released a begrudging sigh. “I agree to your truce.”

He moved, standing toe-to-toe with me, a vicious promise laced in his next words. “But the second this is all over, I’m going to do what I swore I would do the moment I met you, and that’s kill you.” His hand wrapped around my throat. I allowed the move because why not? “I’m going to squeeze every ounce of air from your lungs until your heart stops, and then I’m going to smile down at your lifeless corpse.”

How cute. A threat fromtheBratva Butcher himself. If I was right in the head, I would have been scared. His exploits were legendary. Something that would survive the ages. Everyone had heard of the Bratva Butcher. Of his malevolence. His brutality. His lack of empathy for those he considered his enemies.

It didn’t scare me, though. It made me…excited.What would it feel like to be hunted by the Bratva Butcher? To finally be the hunted instead of the hunter?The thought intrigued me far more than it should have.

I grasped his wrist and twisted sharply. He winced, completely unprepared for the move, and involuntarily dropped to his knees. The angle at which I held his wrist didn’t give him much of a choice. Either he dropped, or I broke his wrist.

“Ahh, exactly where a man belongs, on his knees.”

He scowled up at me.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Butcher. I’m sure you’re used to being the superior one out of everyone you face, but that shit isn’t going to fly with me. Believe me when I say that if I’m going down, I’m dragging you down with me.”

Chapter Twelve

Dimitri Volkov

“This here is thetraining area.” The guard who spoke swept his hand through the air, gesturing to what I could only describe as an underground cavern.

After being woken by a bright, blinding light, a deep male voice had boomed, “Up we get, fighters. It’s time for your first training session.”

A guard had come in after that with our breakfast. A smorgasbord of eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns and toast. Each and every plate had been overloaded with so much food that it was practically falling to the ground.

At first, I’d been suspicious. Usually, prisoners were served the bare minimum. Just enough food to stay alive. The less energy prisoners had the better, so if they tried to escape, they couldn’t get very far.

But Talon was doing the opposite by going overboard with the food. Once I’d figured it out, it all made perfect sense, really. The Til Death Games were his baby. His only way to the fame, admiration and respect he so desperately craved. He wouldn’t get that if the fighters passed out from dehydration and malnutrition.

The same principle applied to the training. He needed the fighters in the best possible condition to guarantee a good, entertaining fight.

So, our location made perfect sense to me.

After eating breakfast, we were all led down dark, gloomy corridors and long winding staircases in single file until we got to that room. The ground was covered entirely in hard, dense sand. Rows of weapons lined the walls; swords, spears, knives, axes and different sized shields. Lit tiki torches surrounded a makeshift ring in the centre of the room. I felt like I’d been plucked right out of the twenty-first century and dumped into a time where Roman gladiators fought each other mercilessly for the appeasement of others.

Given what I knew about what was to take place there, it wasn’t that far off.

“You will be brought here twice a day to practise,” the guard continued, walking down the line with his hands behind his back, expression hard. “Whether you choose to train or not is entirely up to you. We’re not going to hold your hands and walk you through it. Last year’s games were single matches. This year, it’s pairs fighting. Your cellmate is your partner. Everyone else is your competition. If you and your partner make it to the end, you’ll be granted your freedom.”

I scoffed.

The guard cut me an angry look. I held his stare. The chances of Talon actually letting the winners go was slim to none. They would have seen too much, know too much about his operations.But you had to give people something to fight for, otherwise there would be no point in playing along with any of it.

“As I was saying, train or don’t train. It’s up to you. I don’t need to tell you what a serious disadvantage it is not to practise with your partner in a pairs fight. It’s crucial to learn each other’s moves and anticipate each other’s actions so you can both move on to the next round. In the event that your partner dies, you will move on by yourself. You will not be awarded another partner. Watching each other’s back is important if you don’t want to end up fighting in the next round all on your own. Defeating two opponents at once is doable, but extremely difficult. Don’t risk it. If your partner dies, so will you. It will just be a matter of time. Now, for the rules. There is to be no killing or seriously injuring other fighters. Any disputes you may have can be settled in the arena. Should you be caught significantly injuring another fighter to the point where they are unable to compete, your life shall be forfeited.”

Some outraged gasps came from the other prisoners. Autumn and I glanced at each other. The knowing glint in her eyes matched my own. Had we not reached an agreement with one another, we still would have tried to kill each other, consequences be damned.

“Should you try to escape, your life shall be forfeited. Should you attempt to attack any of the guards with any of the weapons you see here, your life shall be forfeited. Should you attempt to remove any of the weapons from this room, your—”

“Life shall be forfeited. God, this guy is like a broken fucking record,” Autumn mumbled under her breath.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. It’s not even that fucking funny.

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