ALEKSEI
Every strike I throw is supposed to do one thing: take me further away from her. Empty the chamber in my head where her face lives, where the memory of her hands and the way she looked at me the last time we spoke slinks beneath me and won’t leave.
I came here to punish my body so I would stop thinking of her. Each punch, each kick, is a promise to myself that I will not be undone. Not by her. Not by anyone.
My opponent is solid, bred to fight and take the kind of pain I give. But unfortunately for him, he won’t be getting out of this cage alive.
Still, with each connection—the crack of knuckles on bone, the thud as elbow meets ribs—I keep seeing her. The way she called my name in the dark. The way she spits words at me like a challenge. The tilt of her chin when she refuses to be afraid. Her face sits like a flare behind my eyes, and the more I try to extinguish it, the brighter it burns.
A right hook crosses the man’s jaw, and he crumples. The cage hops with a roar, and I step back, ready to finish. When I raise my arms in victory, the crowd cheers louder, and I stare around the room, knowing why they came. They want to see me finish him…and I always give the people what they want.
The second my eyes sweep the room, my pulse spikes.
For a moment, I think I’m seeing things because I have been starving for her. So badly it’s started to feel like a sickness.
My attention fastens on her, and for one split second, everything shifts. The cage, the crowd, the fight…it all fades.
It’s just her. She’s the only thing I see.
Which is why I don’t notice the punch coming. Until it slams into the side of my face like a hammer, snapping my head sideways and ripping me back to reality.
And that is what happens when you let a woman distract you. It’s what my father always said.
He would be embarrassed if he saw me now: staggering, wobbling on my knees, my hearing cutting in and out as the world distorts around me.
The copper tang of blood hits my tongue, sharp and bitter. I swipe it from my mouth and glare at the man who landed the hit, but the real fury spirals inward. I deserve worse.
Because I know better. I’ve been trained better.
And still, one look at her—just one—and I let my guard drop.
“Yebanyy amateur,” I mutter under my breath, spitting blood on the mat.Fucking amateur.
Before I can recover, he’s on me, knees pinning me down, fists raining with precision. Pain bursts sharp, then dulls into a heavy rhythm that rattles through my skull. The crowd blurs into noise, the cage lights blinking overhead like distant stars.
“Aleksei!” Her desperate voice cuts straight through the chaos. “Aleksei! Get up!”
It slices through everything. The roar, the pain, the noise. Until it’s the only thing I hear.
She shouts my name again, and the pitch in it, fear and something like command…that sound reaches the last shred of the animal inside me.
My fingers find the bastard’s eye, and I dig in hard. When he screams and rolls off me, that’s all I need. I snap back.
Then I make him pay. I hammer him with fists like winter hail in Moscow. Cold, unforgiving, relentless. I don’t just fight; I destroy. I give him everything I have and then some, blow after blow, until he’s nothing but bone and blood and twitching weakness beneath me.
I don’t stop. Not when he gasps. Not when the ref yells. Not until the blood on the mat spreads wide and his face is something unrecognizable.
When they finally drag me off him, the crowd explodes, but it’s all distant. Muffled. My chest heaves. My fists drip. My face is a river of blood, but most of it isn’t mine. And still…
I’m only looking for her.
The second my arm is raised, she’s already moving, pushing past the ropes, ducking into the ring like she can’t stand another second of distance between us. Her eyes are wide and filled with concern, her steps urgent, focused only on me. And the sight rips something open inside me I didn’t know was still there.
“Your face.” She cups her mouth. “You need to see a doctor.”
“I’m fine.” The referee walks away and returns with two rags, handing one to her and the other to me.
I clean my hands and chest while she presses the other to my cheek, and all I can do is look at her, forgetting why I ever hated her in the first place. Her fingers are clumsy and perfect, and I let her touch me because she is the only thing that has kept me human.
