Her only response was a shrug. Before I could change the subject, a dark energy pulled my gaze away from her.
Dmitri. I could sense him before I even turned my head.
And I was far from the only one looking. The moment Dmitri Novikov stepped into the massive room, the attention of a hundred people seemed to gravitate towards him.
Not that he paid us any mind. His chiseled face appeared almost bored as his long legs carried him across the room.
Once Dmitri settled into a chair in the front row, I watched Natalya reluctantly tear her attention away from him.
I knew she was about to say something about him, but that conversation topic was the last thing I wanted. I’d spent the last week looking over my shoulder waiting for Dmitri to exact revenge for defying him.
Sometimes when it was late at night and the darkness of the city was stretching all around me, I could’ve sworn I heard his sardonic chuckle. Yet every time I whipped around, I saw nothing but dirty sidewalks and unfamiliar faces.
Natalya’s incoming comment was interrupted by a voice near the front. A voice that always set my teeth on edge.
The Pakhan.
The leader of the Vassiliev Bratva and the person who’d created this competition to become his heir.
Now that all the candidates were gathered here, he was reading off a list of our current rankings.
Natalya nudged me when the Pakhan read my new ranking: Number Twenty.
I’d been taking on extra assignments to gain more points and try to increase my ranking in the competition. Points were based on the difficulty of the assignment and how cleanly you handled it.
There were certain assignments that the Pakhan would only entrust to the highest ranked competitors. And I had to imagine with the added danger came higher points.
Twenty was higher than I’d ever been ranked before. Higher than even my brother Kiril had reached….
The Pakhan’s eyes met mine, and my stomach dropped.
No matter how long I lived, I’d never forget the cold smile on the Pakhan’s face when he saw my brother’s dead body.
As he moved on to the next names, I kept my expression even.
Predictably, Dmitri was ranked number one. He’d been for years. The amount of points he had was exponentially higher than the other competitors.
Sometimes I wondered why we continued on in this competition when the distance between him and everyone else was so great. Everyone knew he was the Pakhan’s heir apparent.
Not that he even reacted when the Pakhan read his ranking. Nothing in the last few minutes had shifted his expression from boredom.
Not even when the Pakhan’s demeanor shifted into irritation.
“Last week, I had an interesting conversation with some Italians," the Pakhan said. "They insinuated that some of my people were weak.
“As you know, weakness is not something I permit within my ranks. Let alone someone in line to be my heir. So today, I will evaluate you in sparring matches against your fellow candidates.
“The rules are simple: No killing and holdnothingback.”
I noticed he mentioned nothing about maiming.
My heart stuttered as he described how it would work. He’d be calling up candidates in the fight for the throne, and we’d have to fight until either we tapped out or were unconscious.
The winner of each match would obviously gain points towards their ranking. If you were knocked out, you’d lose some points.
But you’d lose amassiveamount if you yielded.
I prayed I wouldn’t be paired with someone completely sadistic. But that was a tall order in the Bratva. Especiallyamong the competitors who’d been raised with the sole goal of becoming the Pakhan’s heir.
