The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

Captive prt. 2

Chapter 30

Edited

"Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head at Maksim's question, shivering to death despite the rising atmosphere. "No."

"The bruises on your face?" Arseny looked about ready to slay someone to pieces.

"That was me," Erik said, wiping the blood from under his nose. "Bitch had the nerve to knee my balls. I decided a lesson was needed."

"You need to be taught a lesson," Arseny started forward.

"Not yet," Lukas said, calmly, forcing his brother back down.

"If that's bad you should have seen the clothes she had on before this," Vitaly scoffed.

"What clothes?" Maksim turned feral.

"A schoolgirl uniform," Angelo answered, taking a bite of his steak.

Krugan, with a menacing glare, tightened his fingers on his gun. "You dressed her like some sex doll? What kind of sick human being are you?"

"I would like to know as well," Angelo stared at Erik. "You youngsters get more and more abrasive with your fetish for certain things that disturb me. What has your father taught you?"

"Wouldn't know," Erik ground his teeth together from the corner where he watched over us all, his gun hung between his legs. "Boris was gone most of his time acting as a God for the Bratva that wasn't his."

"You say that with so much conviction."

"It's the truth," Erik hissed, glowering from under frail eyelashes that came off as feminine. "Abandonment issues can cause serious, deviant behavior. I guess I took up a few sadistic urges to tame me."

"Tame you?" I glared at him. "You nearly raped me!"

"What," came several howls.

There was actual fear in his eyes. Erik shifted his weight, holding his gun a little more forcefully with less confidence than he had before. A nervous twitch I noted since we were kids.

"It was nothing," he said, looking at the ground.

"Nothing?" Maksim stood up so fast no one had time to stop the severe knockout that came as punched Erik in a swift justice. Not that anyone made a move to stop him. Again Erik was on the floor, unconscious, but Maksim didn't stop; he kept punching, punching and punching.

"Maksim stop," I begged, gently at first but voice rising. "Stop it, now!"

With one final blow Maksim shot up from a bleeding Erik, his face unrecognizable with the swollen damage and blood filling what used to be his pretty boy face. Though dazed, Erik moaned in his sleep. The pain must have been powerful enough to impact him while wrapped in darkness.

He spat on Erik's face. "Yebanaya suka." Fucking bitch.

"You are still as fast as I hoped my fighter," acknowledged Angelo. "We will need you back in the ring soon. This one," brushing a lock over my ear, "has preoccupied your mind too much. You have skipped many fights. We need to fix that."

"I told you I wanted out," Maksim growled.

Angelo scoffed. "You will never be able to get out of this. This is your life. All men of the Mafia understand the sacrifice. You must," his hand snaked in my hair, gripping to the roots, "let go of this fantasy with my niece. You are from different worlds."

"Our world is the same," I said, biting the pain. "What you see is a daughter of royalty and a soldier."

"That is what he is." He twisted me to look at him again. "He is Made Man. They know no love. They must know guns. Skill. Not of the heart."