Page 33 of Bratva Holiday

“Only because he and Father have never fought one-on-one before. Not like this.”

“Lukyan has a point.” Nikolai agreed.

“As always.” He winked.

I rolled my eyes.

Dimitri made his way over, face tense and hard. There was no playfulness in either of their expressions. Even though the Volkov Family Games was all fun and games, this fight was serious. Mikhail went over the rules. Standard stuff. No eye-gouging. No breaking bones. The minute he was done with the logistics, Aleksandr and Dimitri shook hands, stepped back, and took a fighter’s stance, fists up and bodies at the ready.

Any further conversation from the others ceased instantly. Tension built in the air, along with a hefty dose of excitement.

At Mikhail’s signal, they threw themselves into the fight.

Aleksandr moved first, swift and unrelenting. He threw punch after punch, forcing Dimitri on the defensive almost instantly, but the Butcher was nothing if not adaptable. He knocked away each of his successor’s strikes, one after the other after the other, and then lashed out with his own attack—a fast high kick to Aleksandr’s head.

“Oooo.” Illayana and Lukyan groaned at the same time.

Aleksandr stumbled back, slightly disoriented. Dimitri didn’t waste any time, capitalizing on the moment. He switched from defensive to offensive. Dimitri swung fast, and Aleksandr reared back just in time, barely missing the blow. Dimitri followed through with a powerful uppercut, forcing Aleksandr to back up a step or risk being hit. The Butcher allowed no reprieve, striking again and again.

Frustrated, Aleksandr pushed through the next round of blows and locked into a grapple with his father. He was taller, bigger, but Dimitri was quicker, slipperier. He broke out of the hold and rammed his knee into Aleksandr’s stomach.

Aleksandr doubled over in pain, bending at the waist, but he didn’t allow it to subdue him, moving fast with a swift elbow strike right into Dimitri’s face, and he followed through with a front kick right to Dimitri’s chest.

Illayana, Lukyan, and Nikolai all winced.

Dimitri flew back, landing harshly with a grunt. Aleksandr pounced on him quickly, trying to wrap his legs around his father’s arm in a textbook armbar, but Dimitri seemed to sense exactly what he was going to do. Knew exactly what hold his son would attempt to lock him into. Dimitri immediately tucked his arm into his side and rolled. The two of them wrestled along the grass, their grunts and snarls of exertion heard clear across the field.

“Bad position to be in,” Nikolai sang.

“For Father,” Lukyan said. “Zander has the advantage. Damn it.”

“Don’t count Father out so quickly.”

Sure enough, just as Nikolai predicted, Dimitri was far from down for the count. Aleksandr ended up on top, but Dimitri quickly reared forward, wrapping his head in a choke hold from underneath him. Aleksandr hammered into his father’s side, causing Dimitri to grimace with each blow, but not loosen his hold.

Deciding to cut his losses, Aleksandr abandoned that tactic. He moved into a deep squat, feet planted flat either side of Dimitri’s body and, displaying a strength I didn’t even know humans were capable of, Aleksandr wrapped his arms around his father’s body and lifted.

“Jesus. Fuck,” Lukyan exclaimed.

Aleksandr slammed his father down onto the ground. Dimitri cursed loudly but still didn’t let go. Aleksandr did it again and again. Dimitri’s hold finally loosened, and Aleksandr broke free. His fist slammed into Dimitri’s face hard once before he stood up right and stomped down. Dimitri rolled, only just managing to avoid the deadly blow. Using a pretty impressive flexibility for a man his age, Dimitri swung his leg in a powerful arc, knocking his son down. The two of them jumped up quickly and went right back to trading blow after savage blow.

The whole time they fought, Mikhail watched them with eagle-eyed focus, making sure they were playing by the rules. Sam and her team were waiting keenly on the sidelines, ready to jump in and attend to injuries at a moment’s notice. They watched the events unfolding with almost pained expressions on all their faces, as if sitting idly by and watching two people beat the shit out of each other was hard for them to do.

Aleksandr and Dimitri fought for a long time. Just when it looked like one had the upper hand, the other would come back, shifting the power balance once again. They were very evenly matched in both power and speed, but that was something we all knew already.

The bets between the Volkov siblings increased the longer the fight went on. They’d long switched from English to Russian, almost talking over one another as they enthusiastically tried to predict who was going to come out on top.

Drea and Autumn winced at every blow their partner took while simultaneously cheering them on. It was the most intense one-on-one I had ever witnessed, and I truly had no idea who was going to win.

Aleksandr went to body slam his father, hurling him over his shoulder, but Dimitri somehow managed to reverse the maneuver, using his body’s momentum to pull a similar move on his way down, flinging his son down with him by his arm.

“What the fuck was that?!” Lukyan exclaimed.

“I’ve never seen him use that move before,” Nikolai said, eyes focused intensely on the fight.

Dimitri kept a tight grip on Aleksandr’s arm as he quickly got to one knee. He had it tucked against his body, his own arm wrapped around it securely in an immovable, unbreakable grasp. Dimitri pushed down, and Aleksandr cried out, cursing in Russian.

“Tap!” Dimitri snarled.