Page 32 of Bratva Menace

“It’s beddy-bye time. Shhh, shhhh. Go to sleep. Go to sleep,” I whispered in his ear, squeezing harder. Tighter.

“You’re—dead, you—little—shit.”

“Nun-nies, little Aleksandr. Off to la-la land you go.” My arms ached from holding the pressure. It defied all odds that he was still conscious. “Go to fucking sleep, you cockroach.” I growled.

I felt the fight start to leave Aleksandr, his body slowly drooping forward.

Finally.

I guided him down as slowly and softly as I could, but when he finally lost consciousness, I couldn’t hold him up any longer, and he thumped on the ground, passed out.

Deep, panting breaths escaped me as I braced my hands on my knees. That fucker just wouldn’t quit.

“Sixty seconds!”

My eyes snapped to Autumn and Drea, duking it out near the corner of the ring.

This was finally my opportunity to win against Aleksandr. I had to take it.

It was kind of funny…Hurting my brother didn’t scare me, but hurting his wife?

That absolutely terrified me.

My brother was over-the-top protective of his little cartel queen. If I hurt her, even under the pretense of a friendly sparring match, he’d hack my balls off with a rusty cleaver and serve them to me on a silver platter.

The prospect of finally beating Aleksandr at something was far too strong to overcome, though, demolishing that tiny ball of respectful fear I had for him.

I leaped back into action with renewed purpose. Drea had Autumn on her back, pummeling into her with that scrappy energy she had. I came up behind Drea and locked her into the same headlock I’d used on Aleksandr.

I found it kind of poetic; lovers knocked out from the same technique.

Absolutely beautiful.

A love story for the ages.

Drea thrashed, her legs kicking out wildly and a string of Spanish curses flying from her mouth as I lifted her off Autumn, my arms wrapped firmly around her neck. She tried to fight, tossing and turning, looking for some sort of opening, but finding nothing. Drea at least had more sense than my brother, because when she realized she had no way to get out of it, she tapped my forearm three times.

I won. I fucking won.

I let her go, my scream of triumph joining that of the roaring crowd behind me. I raised my hands in the air, basking in the victory against my older brother and Arturo, and began to pose like someone in a bodybuilding competition, flexing my muscles, turning this way and that way, all while a growl of pure elation fell from my lips.

I fucking ate up every second of it.

Nikolai jumped up onto the ring and dangled his arms over the ropes. A grin was plastered on his lips. Continuing my show of dominance, I made my way over to him.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “You know he’s absolutely going to murder you for that stunt, right?” he said, referring to an unconscious Aleksandr lying face down on the ring floor.

My smile was wide. Carefree. Fucking villainous. “I know. Was still worth it, though.”

Aleksandr stirred, a groan rumbling out of him. My face dropped. I checked my imaginary watch.

“You know what? I just remembered I’m late for an appointment.”

“What appointment?” Nikolai asked, his lips kicked up into a smirk.

“I’ve gotta see a man about a dog. Very, very important stuff. Cheerio.” I jumped down from the ring just as a pissed-as-fuck voice cut through the air.

“LUKYAN!” Aleksandr roared.