“She is.”
“She cried tonight because of shit you put in motion.”
His expression didn’t change. “That is yours to fix.”
I swung before I knew it. My fist flew through the air, landing on his cheek. He stumbled, then his knuckles came back with a sharp jab that snapped my head to the side.
I grinned. “Oh, you been waiting, huh?”
“Yes.”
I threw a right cross this time. It would’ve fucked up his face if it landed. Instead, he caught most of it on his forearm, but the force still rocked him back a step. Then he stepped in close and drove a short punch into my ribs. Air left me in a bigwhoosh.
I knew this nigga had hands, but damn. I went for his jaw. He ducked under it and came back with an uppercut that hitmy chin. Pain flashed behind my eyes. I stumbled back, laughed once, and rushed him. We hit the grass hard.
Somebody cursed behind us. I heard the sound of men moving in, then Sergei’s voice from somewhere near the front steps.
“Nyet.”
He told them no. That’s all he said, no yelling, no panicking. Everybody froze except me and Maxim.
I got my forearm across Maxim’s throat and pressed. He drove a knee into my side, then shifted his weight. He hooked one leg around mine and rolled us. Suddenly, his forearm was acrossmythroat, and his knee was digging intomyribs.
His face hovered over mine, calm except for the blood at the corner of his mouth.
“You fight like you mad about my authority,” he said.
I bucked hard, throwing him off just enough to get my hand between us. “And you talk like a man who wanna get hit again.”
I slammed my palm into his ear. Maxim grunted and shifted. That was all the room I needed. I threw him off me and jumped to my feet. He came up almost as fast, grass on his sleeves, blood on his lip, and murder in his eyes.
I smiled. Right now, he was not thepakhan, not the king, not Sergei’s perfect successor. He was just my brother.
He came at me first this time, throwing a quick jab right at my face, and then another one just as fast. I was able to block the first punch, but the second one split my lip. Before I could even get my bearings again, he landed a solid body shot that made my stomach tighten. I fired back with a hook to his ribs and smirked when I heard the pained sound that came out of him.
Yeah, nigga.
I stepped in and threw a flurry of punches, a jab, a cross, a hook. He managed to block most of them, but one of my punches, a right hand, made it through and hit him right onthe cheekbone. His head jerked to the side from the impact, but Maxim just blinked once and then looked back at me, like it didn't even faze him.
Then he smiled. It was just for a second, cold and crazy as hell.
“Careful,brat.You are beginning to impress me,” he said.
“You are beginning to annoy me because you still standing,” I responded.
He rushed me. His shoulder drove into my middle, arms locked around my waist. We went backward into the side of the stone fountain. My lower back lit up in agony. Water splashed up, cool across my arms and face.
We struggled out of the fountain. Wasn’t no technique after that. We were all hands, elbows, knees, and rage. He hit me with a short right that made my ear ring. I caught him with a left hook that staggered him. He kicked the side of my knee hard enough to make my leg buckle. I grabbed his shirt and yanked him with me, then drove my forehead into his. Pain cracked through my skull.
Maxim staggered.
I staggered.
Juvie yelled, “I know you hard-headed, OG, but damn!”
Mikhail rumbled, “You are not helpful.”
Lev said something in Russian that sounded disrespectful as hell.
