Page 37 of Brutal Bratva King

Some members of the crowd start cheering, and others are disappointed.

Rigor and Rad start chatting excitedly between themselves.

“Did you guys put money on Renat?” I ask, starting to feel excited for my brother’s fight.

“Of course, I’ve never seen him lose,” Rigor says and Rad nods enthusiastically. “The man is a brute in the ring. I don’t know what it is, but the second he’s in there, he turns into an animal.”

I finish my beer and Rad hands me another.

“Thirsty tonight?” he teases.

Renat’s opponent walks in first, a massive man with arms as thick as tree trunks. “Fuck,” I mutter. “That’s guy’s massive.”

“No, don’t let his size deceive you. When they are that bulky, they have no speed. You’ll see how quickly Renat is able to move around him.”

Renat enters the ring, and the entire space erupts in excited cheers. The sound of a hundred voices ricochet off the metal ceiling above us.

What the fuck? I wasn’t aware that my brother was a celebrity here.

I clearly need to come to more of these nights. I’ve been too focused on business and not focused enough on spending time with my brothers.

A whistle blows and the fight is on. Almost instantly, I can see what Rigor was talking about. The heavier guy can’t duck or swing as fast as Renat and he’s already taken a number of hits.

It’ll take more force than the average man to take him down, but Renat is ahead of the game.

“What are the rules tonight?” I shout to Rad. Each fight club is different.

“There are none. It’s like a street fight. Anything goes except for weapons.”

The more I watch, the more invested I become.

But this time, I’m not just interested in the outcome of Renat’s fight—I want to beinthat ring. The appeal is too much.

I want to release all of the frustration that is building inside me.

I need an outlet, and this appears to be the perfect opportunity.

Renat ducks low and nails the guy right in his kidney. I can see the pain on his face as he buckles forward. Then Renat lifts his knee with force—right into the guy's chin. He smacks against the floor with a loud thud, rolling on his back, gasping for air and clutching his side.

He’s done.

Rad and Rigor and cheer loudly.

I down the last of my second beer and lean close to Rad. “I’ll be back,” I say, then walk away quickly before I have to explain myself.

I head straight to the lockers and find one of the officials. “Where do I sign up? I want to go in the ring.”

“Is it your first time?” he asks, looking me up and down.

“Yes.”

“You sure you want to do this? There are no rules. Once you’re in there the only way to get out is by winning or getting taken down.”

“I’m sure.”

My heart is hammering wildly in my chest. I’ve always been the responsible one, the one who watched but didn’t get involved.

“Alright. Then get ready because you can head in next. The other guy just chickened out. No shoes, no jackets.” He points to the lockers.

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