Page 5 of Rafi

He snorts. “What sort of a useless hobby is recreational fighting?”

I don’t tell him all the things I feel when I’m cage fighting. Most people think it’s just about the physicality—the blood, the sweat, the violence. The crowd's energy, the adrenaline, and the rush of victory. But they don’t see the other side of it, the part that no one talks about. It’s not all fists and fury. There's a darkness in it, a quiet part of me that comes alive every time I step into that ring.

When I’m in that cage, I’m fighting something deeper than the guy across from me. I’m fighting the need to prove myself—to my brothers, to my family, to everyone who’s ever looked at me like I’m just a kid. I’m fighting the life they want me to live, the life they’ve spent their whole lives building and telling me to stay out of. I’m fighting the cage they’ve put me in, even if it’s one they’ve built out of love.

But it’s more than just that.

When I’m in the cage, I feel alive. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I truly belong, even though I know it's dangerous, even though I know how much they’d hate it. The cage isn’t just a place for combat—it’s a place where I can let go of everything else. All the expectations, all the pressure, all the rules I’m supposed to follow. It’s just me, the opponent, and the fight.

It’s also the only place I feel like I’m in control.

The truth is, I hate that it’s come to this. I hate that my brothers try to protect me, keep me on the outside, thinking that by keeping me away from their world, they’re saving me. They don’t get it. They think the cage is dangerous, but it’s not. It’s the safest place I’ve ever been, because in that ring, no one can control me. No one can dictate my life.

Not my brothers. Not the family. And certainly not the life they want me to live.

“What’s going on with you?”

Kanyan’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to the present moment. There’s a concerned look on his face, and for a moment, I worry he’s going to retract his promise not to tell my brothers. If they knew I was cage fighting, they’d put a stop to it in an instant.

“I’m sitting here minding my own business.” My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

He gives me a reluctant look and asks me why there has to be a reason for him to check in on me.

“Did they send you to check up on me?”

“I’mchecking up on you. Don’t make me regret being nice to you.”

“You’re doing exactly what they do, man. I don’t need a babysitter. And I sure as hell don’t need anyone telling me what I can and can’t do.” I keep my voice level, but there’s an edge to it now, a hint of the frustration I’ve been feeling for months. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know that,” Kanyan replies softly. “But you’re getting defensive for no reason. I’m just checking in on my brother to see how he’s doing.”

My eyes soften, and immediately I feel regret lancing through me. For a second, I wonder if I should argue. Push him away. But I don’t. Not with the way he’s looking at me, not with the understanding in his gaze. He might not know the full story, but he understands what it’s like to fight for something—anything.

“They have to stop treating me like the kid they still think I am,” I say, my voice quieter now, my hands curling into fists at my sides. They think they’re protecting me, but they’re holding me back.”

Kanyan doesn’t flinch. He simply nods, acknowledging the struggle I’m facing. “I get it. I do. But you need to understand where they’re coming from. They want better for you, Rafi.”

I don’t know why I trust him. Maybe it’s because he’s always been there when I needed him most. Maybe it’s because he sees the bigger picture, the one I’m fighting to get to.

“Maybe better isn’t necessarily anything other than what I’ve been born into.”

Kanyan’s lips twitch, a faint smile I can almost believe in. “When you take your place at that table, you’re going to be the biggest, the fiercest, the most formidable. It’s going to take time, but you’ll get there, brother.”

4

TAYANA

Iglance in the rearview mirror as the van rumbles away from the dock, the sound of sirens in the distance a constant buzzing in my ears. My hands shake as they grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, blood coating the aged leather. For a split second, I catch my reflection — the lines beneath my eyes deeper than they were a few years ago, the weariness settling in the corners of my gaze. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, how much more of my soul will be destroyed before I’m the one taking a bullet.

I had to leave Sasha behind. Even as his body grew cold and rigid, death finding its home. Even as his brain matter clung to me like a second skin, hanging limply from my hair, staining my clothes and assaulting my senses. I had to run, otherwise there’d be too many questions. An investigation. A connection leading from one bridge to another, from the world of light into a world of darkness. My whole operation, and the sister operations that were born from my determination to help others, would come under scrutiny and be compromised. And then where would I be? Where would all those people who depended on me to save them, to rehouse them, be?

Leaving Sasha laying there on the cold concrete is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It inspires in me a coldness I’ve never known myself to possess. I may be Anton Aslanov’s daughter, but I’m nothing like him. I refuse to be. And yet, it crosses my mind to call him.

I know I made my choice, and he may not agree with it once he finds out what I’ve been doing, but I don’t know what I’m dealing with here. My thoughts swirl around the image of Sasha dead on the ground. I try to reconcile the events of the night with the faint fear that niggles at the back of my mind; if Sasha hadn’t moved into me tonight, if he hadn’t sealed his body against mine, that bullet may have very well hit me. Which leaves me asking; had I been the intended target?

The betrayal weighs on me, a burden I can’t shake; the Bratva doesn’t forgive weakness, and my actions, the very ones that are meant to save lives, have possibly sealed my fate. But just how far would my father’s forgiveness stretch? In his eyes, I know my father may see me as the daughter who went from being exiled to becoming a liability— a weakness he can no longer afford.

At home, I sit alone in the dimly lit apartment, the soft hum of the city below barely reaching my ears. The window is cracked open, and I can feel the cold, crisp air brushing against my skin, but it doesn’t help clear the knot of tension lodged deep in my chest.

---