Series: Series by Ker Dukey
Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
It’s what makes Zahkar so lethal. You just don’t expect him to find such pleasure in handing out punishment to those who wrong us.
Svolach. Scum.
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Angelo, aka The Shark, grunts, darting his eyes between the hand Mika has on his shoulder and the gun digging into his ribs by one of Mika’s team.
Z circles him, mocking his fighter name, “The Shark.” He’s not the predator in this room, he’s the prey. And my brother is ravenous for blood.
“Good fight tonight,” I croon.
Angelo flinches slightly. I don’t miss it. Neither does my twin.
“I g-got lucky,” Angelo stammers out, his lie catching on his tongue.
Lucky, my ass.
Coming up behind him, Z swiftly kicks out the back of his leg, causing him to crash to his knees before me.
“Fuck!” he cries out, reaching for his now-injured leg.
His girlfriend gasps and tries to break free of the security guard holding her.
Feisty.
The woman’s blonde locks fall over her face, and the fight in her brings a painful pang of memories of a woman long lost to me—to us. Now, she had the same spunk.
“I warned you,” the woman murmurs in defeat to her now sweating lover.
“Shut up, Brenda,” he growls, shooting her a scathing glare.
I smirk at him, wagging my finger. “Hmmm. That’s no way to speak to the woman who you coerced into putting on your big bet for you.”
He freezes, his eyes wide with terror.
“Here,” I say to the woman, Brenda, thrusting my glass at her. “Taste this and tell me if it’s something you’d order in a club like this.”
Her brown eyes widen at first and then narrow with confusion. “W-What?”
Did I stutter?
“Taste the drink, Brenda,” I urge, handing her the glass. “Tell me what you think.”
With a skinny, shaking hand, she reaches out and takes the glass. Sipping the drink, her face contorts, and she spits the liquid back into the glass.
That’s not very ladylike. Revolting, even.
“It’s disgusting.” She holds the glass out and then releases it before I find purchase, sending it crashing into the hard, wood table below. The glass smashes on impact, spilling the sweet and sour abomination all over the table.
A defiant smirk lifts Brenda’s lips on one corner. Damn, a brave little spitfire she is. I think I might take this one for a ride.
“How is Angelo supposed to try it now?” I say in a mocking tone.
Z meets my gaze, amusement dancing in his fierce eyes. He knows we don’t need new cocktails from the US. We need clubs in the US.
But he enjoys the games we play.
Grabbing Angelo by the scruff of his neck, Zahkar forces him to the table and pushes his head down, scraping his face through the glass.
“Drink up,” my brother purrs.
Ignoring Brenda’s horrified screams, Z doesn’t let up, even when the liquid on the table is now mixed with a heavy amount of Angelo’s blood.
“Zahkar,” I call out, but he doesn’t even flinch. Madness has momentarily stolen him from me. I shout louder at him. “Zahkar!”
Like awakening from a dream, he turns my way and releases Angelo, offering me a shoulder shrug when I raise a brow at his enthusiastic torturing.
It’s been a while since he’s let loose.
“We’ve been in this business since before you were even getting your cock polished for the first time. And we’ve been fighters longer than that,” I tell Angelo bluntly. “I know all the tricks and seen people throw fights before.”
“I didn’t. I swear.” Angelo gurgles on blood dripping into his mouth from his busted lips. The cuts on his face resemble something that’s just been put through a blender.
Running a hand through my unruly hair, I sigh, looking up at the ceiling. I hate people who pull this kind of shit, but it’s made a thousand times worse when they’re caught and still try to lie about it to my motherfucking face. It’s disrespectful.
“You lose three fights to weaker, smaller men, and then manage to easily defeat one of the best fighters we host here?” Zahkar grinds out. “Just so happens your woman places a large sum of money on you to come out victorious? I hate lying cheats.” With that, Z grabs his sledgehammer and motions for Mika to hold out Angelo’s hand.
“What the fuck, man?” Angelo cries out, whimpering like a fucking baby. “Don’t do this. I’ll pay you back. We can work something—”
Lifting the sledgehammer, Z brings it down hard, crushing Angelo’s muffled attempts to talk his way out of the consequence of his actions.
Bones crunch on impact and it’s oddly soothing.
The table cracks and I make a mental note to order a new one.
Angelo’s screams are noisy but satisfying.
“Your mistake wasn’t the money, Angelo,” I say coolly, interrupting his pained fit. “It was thinking we were fools.” I shake my head in disgust, gesturing for a real drink from Nikita, not the bullshit she gave me earlier.