Page 18 of Graves

Still out of control, I let out an angry scream. I want to tear at my hair, but it’s tied back and my hands are wrapped for training, so I just pace in circles trying to calm down.

My muscles burn. Sweat pours out of every pore. My shirt is soaked, and I should’ve worn shorts instead of these gray sweatpants that now feel way too hot. I didn’t plan on losing it like this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Levi asks irritably. “You haven’t been this bad in a long time.”

“Fuck!” I spit, fists clenched. “It’s not enough.”

“You wanna fight?” Levi’s hands are wrapped in black bandages too. “I’m game.”

I know I don’t stand a chance against him. At first glance, my half-brother resembles a model. Our Greek grandmother even compares him to a young Alain Delon. But look closer—especially at his almost fully tattooed upper body—and it’s clear: Levi isn’t one of the good guys. He’s all in on the family business.

He runs the gym with his twin sister Olena. She handles the money; he keeps order—when he’s not busy with more important “work.”

My pulse is still pounding in my head as I turn back to him, breathing hard. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a white T-shirt, hair held back by a blue bandana. Those pale gray-blue eyes watch me like he can’t wait to throw down. He’s like a fighting dog that’s been let off the leash.

“Come on,” I say, throwing my hands up. “You know I don’t stand a chance.”

“I’ll go easy.”

“Yeah, right. Last time you said that I went home with a split lip and a black eye. No thanks.”

I can’t help but smirk. The thought of showing up as Aran Graves’ roommate with fresh bruises for the paparazzi is weirdly tempting.

“Then tell me what’s going on. You’re radiating bad vibes.”

“Just forget it.”

Levi lunges, trying to take me down. My muscles are still wired from earlier, so I twist on instinct and shove him past me. It doesn’t work as cleanly as I hoped, but it buys me enough time to get into stance and dodge his right hook.

“Kuso!” I curse in Japanese. “You’re not even inviting me into the ring first?”

“I can tell you’re not done yet. Come on, Aniki! Don’t hold back!”

Levi grins wide, bouncing on his feet. He’s called me Aniki—big brother—since we were kids, even though he acts like the older one most of the time. He doesn’t even bother keeping his guard up, which feels like an insult after all the fights we’ve had.

I attack, throwing a flurry of punches and ending with a backflip. Levi counters immediately.

We started karate and boxing at fourteen. I went deeper into Taekwondo and Aikidō; he fell in love with kickboxing. At twenty-one, he spent a year in Thailand training in Muay Thai.

I never fully quit kickboxing, but full-contact isn’t my strength. Every spar with Levi proves it again.

“You’re rusty,” he taunts, ducking before my shin can connect with his head.

Before I can regain balance, he rushes in, grabs me around the waist, and sweeps my legs out with a kick to the calves. I hit the floor hard on my back. The air explodes out of my lungs in a pained groan.

“Kuso…”

“Levi!” Olena’s sharp voice cuts down from the gallery. “What the hell!”

Levi stands over me and waves her off with a calming gesture. Then he offers me his hand and drags me up.

“Good fight,” he says, slapping my back.

I start to turn away when he grabs my arm and yanks the sleeve of my shirt over my shoulder.

“What the fuck?” I snap, slapping his hand away and pulling the fabric back down fast.

“What the fuck?” he repeats in confusion. “You haven’t been this messed up in ages. I just wanted to check…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just nods at his own perfectly tattooed arm.