Mafia Ties & LA Skies

Chapter 1 - Matteo

Present Day, 2024

I grab Andrei in a tight headlock, feeling the strain in my arms as he groans under the pressure. He struggles to break free, twisting and turning, but I hold firm. His feet move to trip me, a move I anticipate and sidestep. I pin him to the mat in a swift takedown, the familiar rush of victory surging through me as I lock his head tighter in the crook of my elbow.

The idiot still can't fight through my signature move, I think, grinning as Andrei taps out. Just as I loosen my grip, confident the round is over, he twists out from under me. His speed has always been his advantage, and he grabs my arm, flipping my entire body over his own. The world spins, and I hit the mat hard, the impact driving the breath from my lungs.

I stare up at him, anger flaring. "What the fuck?" I yell. "You know that's not how we fight."

Andrei snickers, his expression smug. "No shit. But I had to get you back somehow. I hate it when you use the Crusher," he says, referring to my signature chokehold move, which he's now nicknamed.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Respect the rules."

Andrei scoffs, strolling to the sidelines to grab his water bottle. He takes a long swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're one to talk," he retorts, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You'll actually kill someone doing that one day."

I roll my eyes, exasperated. "Yeah, well, tapping out just to bluff your way into a win won't fly in a real competition."

"Yeah, well, I'm retired from my UFC days, and you're heading off to California. So none of this really counts, does it?" he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

"So you keep reminding me," I reply, trying to mask the irritation in my voice. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're guilting me about going."

Andrei raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Remind me again why you're flying to the other side of the country just to see some old flame?" he asks, genuine curiosity tinging his words.

"She's not exactly an 'old flame,'" I say, using air quotes. "It's for a job."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I still don't get why you're doing this. I mean, you swore you'd never go back there."

A sigh escapes me as I think back to the call I received from Los Angeles—a call that dredged up memories I thought I'd buried. "It's complicated," I say, knowing it's a flimsy excuse.

"You keep saying that, and yet, I don't see what's so complicated. You left L.A. over a decade ago because of this woman cheating on you. That should've been the end. Now you're heading back, without hesitation. And to see her?" he presses, frustration evident in his voice.

"That story isn't entirely accurate," I admit.

"What do you mean? Isn't that why you left?"

"She never cheated. I—" I pause, the truth catching in my throat.

"You cheated?" Andrei interrupts, disbelief in his tone.

"No. I told you, it's complicated."

"Whatever, man. You want to keep your past private, that's fine. But at least be honest with yourself. This job isn't just for money," Andrei says, giving me a knowing look.

It's true; the job offer isn't as lucrative as my current career. But being a mixed martial arts fighter on a downturn isn't paying the bills like it used to either.

"It's not like that," I insist, though doubt lingers in my mind.

"Oh no?" He huffs out a laugh. "You just keep telling yourself that."