Page 87 of Cashmere Ruin
Then I step into the ring.
28
MATVEY
Grisha’s gaze sweeps over the crowd. It feels odd to have a referee for a duel to the death, but the old laws are clear: a neutral party must be present.
Despite being my third, no one would question Grisha’s integrity. Beyond Ivan, he’s the one with the strongest ties to the original Groza Bratva. After all, his father was Igor Groza’s second. That’s not something anybody here would take lightly, not even the newest recruits who haven’t so much as stepped foot on the eternal snows across the ocean.
Ivan doesn’t take it lightly, either. “Thank you for your service, Grisha.”
He hasn’t even grazed me and already, he’s acting as the newpakhan.
“No thanks needed,” Grisha replies stiffly. “I serve the Groza Bratva, now and always.”
The subtle jab almost makes me laugh. If there’s one thing Grisha’s never liked, it’s brown-nosers.
“Old rules?” I cut in.
Grisha nods. “One dagger each, no armor. Bandages are allowed, but only up to the elbow and the knee. No additional weapons and no shoes.”
We take each other in. I don’t know if today’s Ivan is expecting any dirty tricks, but I learned to fight with honor. If he’s still the same man who taught me, he’ll fight with honor, too.
But is he? Would the old Ivan have challenged you like this?
Satisfied with our inspection, Grisha continues, “The duel ends when either participant stops breathing.”
“Perhaps we should allow ourpakhanto tap out,” Ivan suggests. “Lately, he’s shown a tendency to jump ship when things get bad, hasn’t he?”
What the hell is he talking about?“Sounds like you’re the one who wants the option,” I retort. “Is your back acting up again? Don’t worry; I won’t stab you there. Someonetaught me better than that.”
Ivan’s jaw sets. “If only.”
It’s like I’m missing a piece here, but there’s no time to find out which one. Ivan made that call for the both of us.
I catch some commotion out of the corner of my eye: on the Solovyov side, someone is elbowing their way to the forefront.
Vlad’s eyes and mine go wide at the same time. “Petra!” he cries out. “What are you doing here? This is no place for you.”
“No place?” she scoffs. “When my own husband is dueling to the death? Was anyone even intending to tell me or was I supposed to find out from the evening news?”
Which raises a good point—howdid she find out?
But no sooner do I ask myself that question than I realize I already know the answer.
Yuri.I swear, if I get out of this alive, I’m gonna kill him.
“Go home, Petra. You don’t need to be here for this.”
“He’s right!” Vlad spits, the surreality of agreeing with me making his beady eyes bulge even more. “You can’t be here in your condition!”
“It’s a pregnancy, Dad, not scurvy.”
“Regardless! A Bratva ring is not meant for women!”
He keeps prattling on, but his daughter ignores him and looks at me instead. “Matvey, please reconsider. Think of your family.”
She words it very carefully. To the onlookers, there wouldn’t be a doubt left that she’s talking about herself and her baby. But we know differently.