All the Dangerous Things (The Underworld Kings #5)

3. Tatiana

3

TATIANA

T he bastard tightened his hold on my arm, despite the introduction of one of the fighters.

My instincts said to run.

My mind said to pull my gun out and shoot this motherfucker right between the eyes, like Nikolai and Dmitry had taught me.

But just then, someone shoved the man holding me, and I jerked my arm away. The asshole started cursing at the person who bumped him, dragging his attention away from me.

I took that moment to move backward, yet it was hard to push through the people as they all tried to get closer. But then the crowd parted, and a flash of a large body making his way toward the ring caught my attention. Something inside me made me freeze, and I got a better look at the ring.

The fighter, Maximus, climbed in and moved to the center of the ring, his body scarred and covered in horribly inked tattoos. His hair was greasy and slicked back, and although he looked tweaked-out, he was a big fucker and packed a lot of muscle.

He bounced on the balls of his feet before moving to the corner. The crowd quieted for the next announcement.

“And now the moment you asswipes have all been waiting for. Here comes the one… the only… D’yavoool!”

The room erupted in the most deafening sound I’d ever heard.Up ahead, even the man who’d grabbed my arm was now focused on the ring and on the other fighter making his way toward the cage.

And that’s when I saw him , the man they called Devil.

D’yavol.

I was transfixed as I watched him stalk toward the ring.

He was big, his muscles raw and cut, and his skin was covered in tattoos. The distance made it hard to see what the tattoos were. All I saw were dark lines creating intricate artwork .

People were trying to move closer to the cage, so they had a prime shot of all the violence that was soon to happen. I could smell the death in the air and knew by the end of this fight a corpse would be on that cage floor, blood staining the once white mat.

Although I’d never seen either fighter before, I felt this tightening on the back of my neck as I stared at the monster of a man who was now in the center of the cage.

The tattoos.

The olive skin stretched over hard muscles.

The short, dark hair that was already damp with, presumably, sweat.

And then there was the skull mask that covered the lower half of his face.

Though he only wore a pair of black track shorts, the mask, and tape on his knuckles, his identity was wholly concealed. No one would be able to tell it was him if they encountered him out in public… unless they recognized some of that dark ink that fully covered his body.

It seemed so contradictory, wearing next to nothing, with so many distinguishable marks, yet totally unrecognizable.

God… di d I know him?

No, definitely not. I would never forget anyone who looked like that. Not when the mere appearance of him set off such a strong reaction inside me.

He could’ve worked for my brothers, which I supposed was possible. This underground fight was no doubt filled with Russians who bent to the will of the Petrov family. But unless I encountered him while he was completely clothed from the neck down, with nothing but his face exposed, I’d never seen him before.

I made sure my wig was on securely and ducked my head, hoping like hell my identity was as concealed as I hoped.

And then the fight started, and the noise faded away. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

The greasy-looking fighter, Maximus, started bouncing on the balls of his feet with his fists up by his face. He approached D’yavol, continuing to jump and taunt, but the masked man remained still. Only his head moved, just slightly, as he tracked every single one of his opponent’s moves.

Despite the roaring sound filling the room and the crush of bodies around the cage, D’yavol looked relaxed, but I could tell he was anything but. I’d unconsciously moved closer, or maybe the crowd had pulled me along with them, but either way, I could see him more clearly now. The concentration I saw in his eyes—eyes that looked light and a stark contrast to his darker hair and tan skin—was like a predator stalking its prey.

Maximus finally swung at him, but the devil blocked it easily and countered with a swing of his own. But the other man dodged it, and I could tell D’yavol was toying with his opponent as he swung out again, purposely missing.

And then the skull-masked fighter stood still, allowing Maximus to slam his meaty fist right into the side of his face.

His head cocked back, and a second later, D’yavol lifted the lower half of his mask just enough to spit out a mouthful of saliva and blood. He slid the mask back into place, and I realized he’d strategically made both movements in a way that, when he spat, his face was still concealed.

And then he rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck as he faced his opponent, and I knew right at that moment the fight was about to end.

D’yavol was on the other man a second later, so fast I felt like I might’ve missed something while I blinked .

The devil was precise with his movements, and everyone seemed to go deathly quiet as they watched a man get murdered right in front of them. Literally. That's what was happening before our eyes.D’yavol took Maximus to the ground and slammed his fist repeatedly into the fighter’s big body.

The air in my lungs stilled, and I swore no one around me breathed either. But then all hell broke loose when the screams and roars erupted. It all came back in a rush around me, and my ears rang from the sudden intensity.

Only minutes after it started, the fight was over, and I had no doubt it would’ve been finished even sooner had the masked fighter not bothered with playing around for his audience. When the devil climbed off the bloody, beaten-to-a-pulp, lifeless body beneath him, I stumbled backward, feeling lightheaded.

I couldn’t take my focus off D’yavol as he stared at the… corpse, unable to regain my footing as everyone cheered and applauded for the winner, so I just let the wave carry me where it willed. The back of my neck tingled in a way that told me I was being watched and needed to get out of here, but I had no control .

And then I felt hands on me, and I tipped my head to the side to look at who held me, even though I already knew.

The Russian scumbag I had the confrontation with before the fight was now holding me, the look on his ugly face telling me he had plans that included the vilest, most violent actions against me.

I turned, but before I could attempt to flee, a hard, painful grasp on my nape stopped me. I had zero chance to react before I was hauled against him and then all but dragged through the crowded, nasty-smelling basement.

I reached back and clawed at his hand, but it was no use—his grip was too tight. Thinking quickly, I remembered the gun in my purse and grappled to get it open. I struggled, the pain in my neck traveling up to my skull. Tears were prickling my eyes as I tried my hardest to get that pistol, but the jarring motions as he used me as a battering ram to get through the audience and the needle-like stabbing in the base of my head made this far more difficult than normal.

I cried out and screamed for help, but although people looked at me, the fuckers just laughed, some tipping their beers to the asshole with the death grip on me .

“Ты умрешь за это.” You’re going to die for this , I warned, but it was an empty promise. I could never tell the two men in my life—who would’ve made this man into ground meat and served it in a butcher shop come the morning—because this was my fault. I was the one who snuck out.

The asshole just laughed, the sound making the pain in my head worse.

The crowd moved away from us to give him room to drag me—probably headed to a darkened corner to assault me… or worse.

I closed my eyes to help me focus. Finally, my fingers found and tightened around the gun, but just as I was about to pull it out, he slid his hand up, grabbing my hair. He cranked his wrist, using the leverage to turn my body, so I was now facing him.

Suddenly, he threw me against the unforgiving, cold, hard cinder block wall. The air was knocked out of me, but the wall gave me the stability I had been missing since the fight ended inside the cage.

My grip still firm, I lifted the gun out of my purse and pointed it at the massive Russian standing a few feet in front of me. I realized then he’d taken me to one of the many rooms that were situated along the perimeter of the basement. There wasn’t a door, but his big body blocked the only exit .

“ Думаешь, я не знаю, кто ты?” You think I don’t know who you are?

I froze at his words.

“ Твой внешность может обмануть всех этих идиотов, но я не такой, как они .” Your little get-up might fool all of these idiots, but I’m not like them. He took a step closer.

“ Тогда, если ты знаешь, кто я, ты знаешь, что мои братья сделают с тобой, когда узнают .” Then, if you know who I am, you know what my brothers will do to you when they find out.

He just laughed.

“ Судя по тому, как ты говорил со мной, ты был мертв .” You were dead by the way you spoke to me , I said, but he took another step forward, despite my gun and words. I moved to the side, my hands steady as I kept that gun trained on him. “Но прикасаешься ко мне? Это гарантировало, что мои братья сделают твою смерть медленной и мучительной.” But putting your hands on me? That ensured my brothers will make your death slow and painful.

He grinned, flashing me his disgusting teeth. He shook his head as he replied, “Я не питаю никакой лояльности к Петровым. На самом деле пришло время их падения, и я собираюсь начать их распутывать, трахая Петрову принцессу, пока она не окровавится и не сломается?.” I have no loyalty to the Petrovs. In fact, it’s time for their fall, and I’m going to start their unravelling by fucking the Petrov princess until she is bloody and broken.

I didn’t think about anything else as I focused and aimed. I squeezed the trigger and watched as the bullet went right through his shoulder, hitting my target. I wasn’t quite ready to take a life, especially since that would definitely lead to my brothers finding out I was here.

The bastard was big and burly, and he grunted as his arm whipped backward from the force. But then he took another step closer.

My heart was racing, panicked now, so I didn’t bother aiming as I squeezed the trigger again. He dodged it this time as he lunged forward, and I screamed, but I knew I wouldn’t be heard over the roaring crowd watching the next cage match, even if the sound of the gun firing hadn’t been noticed.

Minimal light filtered in from the main room, casting shadows along his girth as he grabbed me around the throat and slammed me back against the wall.

The breath rushed out of me once again, and I lost my hold on the gun, the metal clattering to the cement floor. It sounded so loud to me, even though I knew no one else would’ve heard it over the rush of… everything.

The shouts and screams from the audience told me that whatever was going on in the ring kept their focus. Despite being in the middle of getting choked, I idly wondered if the skull-masked, tattooed fighter was killing another man inside the cage.

The asshole in front of me must’ve sensed my distraction because he added to the stench around us as he exhaled in my face before tightening his hold so hard around my throat I could no longer even sip at the air. I knew he’d crush my larynx soon, so I began clawing at his hands and forearms, starting out strong, feeling it as I drew blood when the skin tore and opened up beneath my nails.

Although this fucker was speaking—his disgusting mouth twisting and turning as he snarled in Russian—I didn’t hear a word. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears as I weakened, a sudden wave of lightheadedness coming over me.

“Fuck… you,” I gritted out as darkness crept into the corners of my vision. I felt the fight leaving me as my arms grew too heavy to hold up. They fell to my sides, and my eyes closed.

It seemed like only a moment passed as everything went completely silent. And then, even though I was surely about to die, I somehow heard a low, menacing rumble through the fog. It became louder, more violent… frightening. Did it come from the asshole about to kill me? Was it inside my head—a replacement for the ringing in my ears? Was this what a person heard when their soul was leaving their body?

Unexpectedly, sweet air rushed into my lungs, and I fell to the cement floor. My hands were already around my throat of their own accord, trying to rub the pain and burning sensation away. But it only got worse the more oxygen I inhaled, and I became more and more lucid with each breath I took.

Hearing grunts, curses, and groans, a violent sensation suddenly filled me. As I tried to focus, all I could make out were two bodies a few feet from me, one beating the shit out of the other. But things were still so dark that I couldn't see anything but shadowy figures and glimpses of a terrifying, stark-white face. I didn’t know if it was real or just inside my head. Beyond the door, it appeared the basement was empty.

What the fuck?

How long had he been choking me before the feral-sounding demon pulled him off me ?

Or am I in hell?

I heard a wet, meaty sound, followed by something hard and heavy hitting the ground.

I blinked my eyes open, not realizing I’d even closed them, but everything was skewed and blurry. I pushed myself up and rested my back against the wall. God, I couldn’t think straight, and I was fighting to not pass out, my throat and chest hurting so badly.

I realized I was crying, adding to my blurred vision, but my arms were so weak I couldn't lift them to wipe the tears away.

I could smell blood in the air, stronger, fresher, mixing with the decay that seemed to be the glue holding this place together, and then I heard a drip , drip , drip as it became louder. No way I could’ve caught the sound over the deafening crowd. Surely, I was in some kind of afterlife because they had all just disappeared.

Yet, when the body on the floor went still, the creature standing over him moved to the side, allowing a flash of muted light to wash into the little room. And it was then I recognizedwho it was.

It wasn’t a demon with a horrifying, colorless face.

It was the skull-masked fighter .

D’yavol.

His tattooed skin was glossy with sweat and blood, his chest pumping as he breathed harshly. I let my gaze travel to his hands, which were still taped-up, but the adhesive material was no longer white, instead stained dark from the death he inflicted.

Several heartbeats passed with us just staring at each other, and then he walked over. I flinched, pressing myself further against the wall. But he only came close enough to grab my weapon, walk back over to the body that was beginning to rouse and groan, and place the tip of the gun to the top of his head.

I gritted my teeth as I stared into the dark, seemingly lifeless eyes of the fighter and didn’t react when he pulled the trigger. Burying a bullet right in the other man’s skull.

The sound seemed muted, and all I could concentrate on was that darkness creeping back into the corners of my eyes.

And then he rose and tucked the gun into the waistband of his shorts.

The last thing I was aware of was him walking closer, crouching in front of me, and reaching out.