Page 71 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

“One time, I was in the middle of the Venezuelan jungle. I had just been betrayed by my business partner, who attempted to expose me to the United States DEA. Instead of being arrested, I ran into the forest, convinced that I would be able to survive.”

Despite myself, I’m kind of interested. My father has not once told me anything about himself, and certainly nothing about his past.

He smirks. “In order to find my way home, I entered into a… fight club? I think that’s the word you would use. I knew that the only way to get back to my business and destroy my former business partner was to fight.”

Benicio pauses, and for one second his eyes linger on me. “I did have some help,” he murmurs. Then, his eyes shift back to the group, and he booms, “But that is not the point. You will not always have help.”

Interesting. Why did he look at me? I don’t have long to wonder, because he stands, raising his arms like he’s some kind of Cesar. “The first of three trials will be this. You will fight each other. There are no rules, except there are no weapons. The last man conscious will be the victor,” my father booms.

The contestants all shuffle. None of them seem to be intimidated or confused, but they do seem like they’re… ready

Or like they’re getting ready, anyway.

My father gives a broad, scathing grin. He turns to the group and says one word.

“Begin.”

13

DINO

As soon asBenicio calls for the competition to begin, I have approximately three seconds before everything around me explodes.

Literally, in the case of a fist to my head.

Despite the ricochet of pain exploding across my face, I grin.

One thing I can do is fuckin’fight.

I don’t know if it’s rage or blood that turns my gaze red, but it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

I’m here to fight.

Fast as I can, I round on the person who hit me. When my fist connects with his body, it sends a thrill of something wild and animalistic through me.

I don’t have time to feel. I don’t have time to do anything exceptmove.

So that’s what I do.

I don’t know what is happening. Not consciously, really. I move like I’m programmed, like every movement is flowing through me, channeled by something that I’m not in control of.

It’s like a bar fight, but so much better.

Everything around me is chaos. Fists. Feet. The crunch of bone and cartilage under my fingers.

At some point, someone is manically laughing. It takes me a second to realize that it’s me.

Then, I keep going.

“Dino!” I hear Johhny yell.

I look over at him.

The Russian, Volkov, is towering over him. Johnny isn’t a huge guy, maybe somewhere around six foot, with a fairly lean build.

Volkov is built like a fuckin’ polar bear.

I snarl, dodging someone’s fist before I duck and roll over to Johnny and Volkov. With a swift kick, I hit Volkov in his ankles.

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