Page 37 of Bratva Holiday

He choked, bending over and clutching his middle. I slammed into him and tackled him to the ground.

“Go, baby, go!” Lyla cheered, and her words of encouragement fueled me, pushing me to go harder.

Arturo and I wrestled across the grass, both of us fighting for the top position. The last thing I wanted was to get caught underneath him, so I pushed with everything I had. Against all odds, I managed to get the dominant position.

I raised my fist to strike him in the face, but that big, flexible bastard somehow stretched his legs back, wrapping them around me and flinging me off him.

We both scrambled to our feet and faced each other.

Arturo smirked, gesturing to his nose. “That looks like it hurts.”

“My, my, my, Arty. Didn’t take you as the taunting type.”

“What can I say, Luky? You’re starting to rub off on me.”

I barked out a laugh. “If you think that nickname is going to bother me, you really don’t know me at all. I like nicknames. Luky…Lukustos…Lukinda…” I listed half a dozen more, each name angering Arturo further and further.

“Do you ever shut up?” Arturo threw a punch, and I reared back, dancing out of the way. He didn’t stop, launching at me with a flurry of blows that I was forced to do nothing but defend or risk getting struck.

I veered left, dodging his fist, grabbed Arturo’s wrist, twisted, and then throat punched him. He choked, stumbling back. I dropped, spinning with my leg out to knock Arturo completely off his feet, and quickly shot up, going to stomp on him with the heel of my boot.

Arturo brought his arms up in a criss-cross pattern over his chest to soften the blow, and then that flexible fucker kicked me from behind. I somersaulted forward, rolling to land on my hunches, and spun on my knees.

Arturo was already up, foot flying toward my face in a fast roundhouse kick. I ducked under it and punched forward, hitting him right in the nuts. A strangled noise fell out of his mouth, eyes widening as he cupped his privates and fell to his knees.

“That’s an illegal move!” my sister yelled out.

“In normal one-on-one sparring matches, yes, but not for this game. Continue!” Mikhail declared.

The shot to Arturo’s balls was a hard one. He was still stunned, taking in deep gulps of air to try to breathe through the pain. I’d been hit in the nuts before. It wasn’t easy to recover from quickly.

Planting my left hand on the grass, I jumped up, wrapping my legs around Arturo’s neck and hurling him to the ground with a harsh twist.

He kicked out, clawing at my calves, trying to get free. I tightened my hold, squeezing as hard as I could. He wouldn’t be getting out. There was no way. I was locked in.

Feeling empowered and confident, I looked for Lyla as Arturo struggled, gasping for air. Our eyes connected. Her tongue ran over her lips, her gaze turning heated. She loved watching me fight just as much as I loved watching her⁠—

“What the fuck?!” I shrieked, bucking wildly. My hold involuntarily loosened, and Arturo broke free, scuttling away.

I looked down at my bare foot in shock. I was too distracted to notice that while he was clawing at me, he’d taken off my sock and shoe.

My shocked gaze flew to Arturo. “You tickled my foot,” I said, shell-shocked. “You fucking tickled my foot!”

Motherfucker stole my move.

He smirked, all cocky and shit, and then picked up my shoe and threw it at my face.

“Ow!” I cried.

Arturo scrambled over me and locked me in a blood choke, compressing the carotid arteries on both sides of my neck with his arms.

Oh, shit. Fuck.

I pounded at his arms with everything I had. Darkness danced over the edges of my vision. I pounded harder.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck⁠—

“Wakey, wakey, Luky.”