Kolya willed himself to ignore the crowd as he took his mental preparations to a primitive, abstract level. Distractions, no room for them. Fight. Blood. Kill. Win. Those were the important things. The only thing he allowed into his thought process was his trainer, Simeon, who had to crane his neck to get the fighter’s undivided attention. Even as the man poked his finger at Kolya’s chest, the fighter appeared stoic, seemingly unmoved, yet Simeon knew he was focusing on every word.
When Alexander Glazov did something he did it right and that included selecting the trainers at his gym facility. Simeon Markov was one of the best in the world, having trained countless champions. Glazov knew his fighters couldn’t be in better hands.
“You listen to me!” Simeon ranted, jabbing his finger at Kolya’s chest for emphasis. “You may hit like a fucking bomb going off, but this guy has speed—get him on the fucking ropes and keep him there! You’ve got this, Kolya. You don’t let him get to the middle of that ring or he’ll be dancing around your punches. You must make every punch, every jab count. No wasted movement, you understand me?” Simeon continued to poke Kolya in the chest, undeterred by the fighter’s unflinching, stoic demeanor. “He’s got speed…You. Get. Him. On. Those. Fucking. Ropes.”
What the trainer was saying was gospel. Kolya’s punches were solid and true. When his opponents hit him he was unfazed, it was like hitting an immoveable object. An opponent’s hand would have to break to land a punch hard enough to affect the mountain of a man. Kolya was ready for this fight. He would do what he was trained to do: obey the order of his Pakhan. He would destroy his opponent, using whatever means necessary.
He spared a glance at Helena on the front row and thought about what she must be going through, seated with strangers that didn’t trust her, watching him get pounded on by a fighter who wanted to win as badly as he did. He hoped she could handle it.
He’d seen other fighters take up with a woman and then have the whole damn thing fall apart when the woman couldn’t handle the pressure. It was a story he’d heard often enough: late nights after hard fucking when sexy pillow talk deteriorated into angry tears as the woman begged her man to stop fighting, swearing she didn’t need or want the money and fame, that she only wanted him. Then when the guy refused, the angry tears became an all-out war. He’d seen it over and over, such a cliché. It was the reason he’d never gotten close to a woman until now. But Helena had been damn near impossible to resist – and so fucking worth it.
The referee called the boxers to the middle of the ring. Pre-fight instructions were given before the standard all-important phrase was uttered: “Protect yourself at all times.”
His opponent danced around in front of him in a blatant effort to keep Kolya from getting him on the ropes. The man had a lot riding on this fight – too much. Poor judgment had led him to place bets – bets he couldn’t afford to lose. If he lost, he would be as good as dead because there was no way he could cover the money he’d owe. He knew Kolya had killed a man in the ring once, long ago. If this fight didn’t go his way, he hoped Kolya would do the right thing and just finish him.
His momentary distraction was the opportunity Kolya had been waiting for as he drew first blood with a southpaw punch to his opponent’s jaw. The man’s head swam with the threat of passing out until the voices in his head whispered through the fog to remind him of the bets he’d placed, of what was at stake.
The bookies were counting on him winning this fight. If Kolya didn’t kill him tonight, they would if he lost. You can do this. Keep him in the middle of the ring and kick his ass. They’re going to fucking kill you. He shook his head to clear it, sending sweat flying in a spray of droplets to the mat.
Kolya swung with an immediate right-hand jab before the bell rang to signal the end of the round and send each man to his corner. Kolya looked over his shoulder at the chaos in the opposing corner. Fuck that bell ringing—I just rang yours.
He slumped down in the folding chair and Simeon immediately began sponging him off with cool water. “I hate that the bastard’s getting any time to rest. I’m so pumped tonight, he’s fuckin’ going down, Simeon.”
“Damn right, he is!” Simeon roared as he grabbed Kolya’s shoulders and got in his face. "They’ll be carrying his ass out in a body bag tonight when you’re through with him,” he hissed. “Just do what I told you, keep him on the ropes!”
Kolya knew his trainer was doing exactly what Glazov paid him to do: get him fired up. But he also knew the man’s intentions went far beyond just doing his job.
Kolya respected Simeon and, over the course of many years, had come to understand that his trainer loved him like a son. Simeon wanted to see Kolya succeed, not just for the money and fame but because he understood better than most the mean streets Kolya had grown up on. That kind of love bred loyalty; at least, with Kolya it did.
“Hit him! Hit him again!” Helena sprang to her feet, unable to hide her excitement. If Kolya was beating on his opponent, then that meant the other guy wasn’t beating on him. She was proud of him for working so hard and staying so focused in this fight. The kind of men who were banking on Kolya knocking out his opponent were the kind of men you only disappointed once. For Kolya to let the Pakhan down would be the end of what could have been a beautiful future for her and Kolya.
The more she thought about it, she knew she had a stake in this too. Alexander Glazov wasn’t going to leave her alive if he killed Kolya. Fuck! Helena, you think too damn much.
She screamed even louder, “Take him down, Kolya! Fuck him up!”
“Well, alrighty…I think you’ll fit right in.” Helena looked over to find Roksana studying her with amused eyes. “That’s quite the little closet gangster bitch you have going on there. I like it.”
It was now or never. Helena was going to have to stand up to these people—in a respectful way, of course, unless she wanted to be incinerated.
She took a deep breath and dove in. “Whether you realize it or not, I have a stake in this too. I get that I’m the new girl, I do; but you might want to take into consideration that if he ever fails to carry out your father’s orders, it’s a death warrant for me too. I’m saying this with all due respect, Roksana, but nevertheless…I’m saying it because it needs to be said. No matter how friendly things may get between us, that will always be hanging over my head.”
She lifted her chin and held her breath as she faced off against Roksana’s blistering gaze. Nothing could have prepared her when Roksana roared with laughter. “About time you got some fuckin’ balls. Now watch the fight. You don’t want to miss anything. Kolya’s on fire tonight, I hope he doesn’t kill the guy.”
One look into Kolya’s fevered eyes as he bobbed and weaved around his opponent, and the reality of Roksana’s words hit Helena right between the eyes: her man might very well end up killing this guy. And she knew with certainty that, after everything Kolya had already been through, he’d never survive the aftermath.