No split lips.
My jaw’s bleeding, though, a thin, shallow cut right along the edge where that bastard got lucky. Gritting my teeth, I flex my jaw, roll my neck, and exhale slowly — like it’ll help.
Behind me, the room is silent, but I can feel Viktor’s stare, sharp like a blade between my shoulder blades.
I peel off the white tank top Maksim tossed at me before I stepped into the cage; it’s soaked in sweat and blood. Then I pull my compression shirt over my head, fingers still aching from impact.
“God, I wish Anton weren’t out of the country for that business trip,” Maksim mutters under his breath. “I need to call him.”
It’s quiet. But not quiet enough.
I turn slowly, eyes cutting toward him, rage curling back into my throat like a second tongue.
“Why don’t you just fucking call all our family members at this point?” I snap. “Go ahead. Group call. Let’s all have a nice little family bonding while we’re at it.”
Viktor lets out a frustrated sigh, and Maksim doesn’t flinch at my outburst. He never does.
But there’s a flicker in his eyes. Not disappointment.
Worry.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I growl, grabbing a towel, wiping the water and leftover blood from my hands. “You’ve done worse.”
“I have,” Maksim says, stepping forward, arms crossed, jaw tight. “But you haven’t been here for years.”
Victor leans back against the metal lockers, arms folded, jaw tight. “It’s been years since you lost it like that.”
I grind my teeth in silence, but don’t say anything.
“What the fuck happened with you today?” Viktor demands, staring into my eyes like he’s digging for something buried. “Talk to me.”
“None of your fucking business,” I mutter, flat as stone.
I shove past him, the metal door only a few steps away. I need air—space—anything. But he moves faster, slamming me into the lockers so hard the sound cracks through the room like a gunshot. The steel rattles, my ribs seize, and the breath tears right out of me.
Rage blooms instantly. Sharp, vicious, and alive.
“Get the fuck off me,” I growl, voice low and lethal. I can barely stay upright, exhaustion gnaws at my muscles, but I swear I’ll crush his skull into the wall if he doesn’t move. “I swear to God, Viktor—”
“You gonna try to smash my head in now?” he snaps back, face just inches from mine, breath hot with fury. “You think you can win this time, Sasha?”
My fists tighten.
We both know I can’t.
But neither can he.
Because the truth is, we’ve never beaten each other. Not once. No matter how many times they threw us into a ring like dogs when we were younger, how many times they shouted at us to fight harder, bleed more. We always ended the same way: bruised, gasping, on the ground together. No victor. No surrender. Just two boys who were never allowed to stop.
It’s like we were made with the same fire, same strength. Same curse.
A war older than both of us simmers in the silence. Viktor’s grip doesn’t ease.
“You almost ripped that guy’s head off,” he barks. “That wasn’t a fight. That was a fucking blackout. I’ve seen you being violent. I’ve seen you angry. But that? That was something else.”
I don’t answer. My jaw pulses with restraint.
“This isn’t just about hunger for violence,” he presses, quieter now. “This is about him, isn’t it?”
