The thought of Sergey fighting anyone in such an ugly way is enough to send me into a pure panic. I should have a better grip on my emotions, but right now, feeling how thick the tension is has me spiraling.
When Yuri charges forward, forcing Sergey back before hitting him again, I surge forward instinctively to try and break out of the chair, but a heavy hand grips my shoulder and holds me in place. One of Yuri's men holds me back, his grip iron-tight, reeking of smoke and old leather.
“Get your hands off me,” I snarl and struggle, but he doesn't flinch.
"Stay out of it," he growls, more focused on the fight than on restraining me. Still, he doesn’t let go. “Nobody needs you getting in the way.”
"He's going to kill him!"
But he won’t…I already know it. Sergey is faster and stronger, and if there's one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Sergeyfights for more than pride. And right now, he’s fighting for me and us.
My brother may have endured his training, but he never took it seriously. He was too busy enjoying the fruits of Dad’s labor and playing pakhan-in-waiting.
Every punch Sergey lands sends a jolt through my body, but the ones Yuri sends in return hit me harder.
I hate this. I hate watching him get hit, and I hate feeling so useless.
I attempt to twist and kick back at the guard restraining me, managing to elbow him in the ribs, but it isn’t enough. He grunts, loosening his hold for just a second before holding my shoulder down harder and roughly grabbing my chin, making me look directly at the fight.
“Watch, Katya…watch your brother put the Lukov down like a dog.”
The words sting as they sink in, and I know I can’t let that happen. Even if I’m defenseless, I can’t allow him to succumb to it.
Sergey dodges Yuri's next swing and counters with a sharp uppercut that knocks Yuri back, blood spraying from his lip. It happens so quickly and viciously that I can’t even react. But the crowd around them yells and taunts, apparently not caring about who they’re even cheering for.
"Come on, Sergey," I whisper, chest aching. "Just finish this."
As the fight drags on, the tide begins to visibly turn. Yuri slows down while he pants to catch his breath, and his movements become more desperate and sloppy. But he masks itby laughing bitterly and grinning as if everything is working in his favor.
Sergey, bruised and bloodied, still stands tall. It's a nightmare to watch two men tear each other apart for something as twisted as family, money, and power. But for them, this is nothing. This is what they’re used to.
Then something shifts.
After taking another heavy hit, Yuri stumbles back while a dazed expression masks his face, and his men exchange looks. I see them begin to move subtly, their hands inching towards their weapons despite the 'no-weapons' rule.
No.No.
But before they can get close, the rumble of engines and the flood of headlights cuts through the building with ease. Black SUVs pull into the lot while they come to a screeching halt, doors flinging open before they’ve fully stopped.
Lukov men spill out, guns raised and ready.
At once, everyone freezes. For a heartbeat, no one moves. Not even Yuri or Sergey.
Then chaos takes over.
The guard restraining me curses and glances around, loosening his grip just enough, and that's all the distraction I need. Slamming my foot down on his, I drive my elbow into his throat and rip myself free, sliding the rope off the backrest.
My lungs burn as I jolt forward, heart hammering with adrenaline and fear. With the need to get to Sergey.
"Kat!"
I catch from behind me, recognizing Roman’s voice.
But before I see him, I feel another hand on my shoulder, and I whirl around defensively, prepared to strike.
Sergey’s brother, Ivan, appears in front of me, not letting go. “Hey, relax…it’s just me. Come with me.”
My pulse remains just as fast, but seeing a familiar face that doesn’t want to see my husband dead eases me somewhat. I let go of a breath and nod, staying by him through the chaos. I swallow hard. “Where’s Sergey?”
