Page 19 of Precious Legacy

I turn my attention back to the ring. Both fighters look like they've taken equal beatings, though one is favoring his right leg while the other is clutching his ribs. It’ll only take one of them to spot his opponent’s weakness and use it to his advantage for the whole fight to shift. We watch with rapt fascination as, blow by blow, the fighters wear each other down.

It’s enthralling to watch, making my skin itch and heat up. I’ve always enjoyed the thrill of a fight; being able to use raw power to bring your competitor to his knees. I’ve got over a hundred fights under my belt—more wins than losses—but with those losses, I learned to better myself. That’s what a proper fight is about; improving your technique and strengthening your weaknesses.

“You talked to my sister yet?” Alvaro asks over the booming cheers of the crowd as one of the fighters takes a brutal blow to the face. He rocks and sways, losing his footing only for a split second, but it’s long enough for his opponent to throw his fist into the other side of his face, sending him crashing to the mat.

The roar of the crowd envelops us, the ground practically shaking with the rumble of cheers and applause.

I turn my attention back to my best friend. “I’m trying,” I supply, shrugging nonchalantly. The last thing I want to say is that I fucked his sister in the shower before she tore me down and admitted it was just a mindless quickie. Alvaro and I are close, but nobody wants to hear the details about their twin being railed by their best friend.

“I told you!” Haldon bellows, pointing his sweaty beer bottle in my direction. “You just need to fuck her out of your system!”

“Dude!” Alvaro snaps. “That’s my fucking sister.”

Haldon smirks, shrugging at me like we both know I’ve already done that.

Rolling my eyes, I finish off my beer and set it down on the discarded crate that we’ve been using as a table.

“Fuck,” Varo grumbles, just loud enough for me to hear.

“What?” I frown, but it’s too late for him to answer because someone is coming over to join us, and from the look on Varo’s face, he’s not welcome.

“Bonanno!” The guy greets with a sly smile, holding his hand out for my best friend to shake.

He doesn’t, which only makes the encounter more awkward.

“You know Gambino,” Varo grunts, then points at me. “This is Genovese. Roman, this is Milo Kyrovsky, the Federov’s second-in-command.”

I reach my hand out to shake his, despite my best friend’s reluctance. It’s something I was taught from an early age—always show respect, no matter who it’s to, because you nevertruly know your enemy from your friend. Right now, Milo is technically the enemy, but nobody said we can’t be friends.Keep your enemies close and all that.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Milo asks, shaking my hand. He’s wearing an all black suit, thick gold jewelry decorating his fingers. His dark blonde hair is slicked back, the shadows from the spotlights behind him sharpening his jawline as he surveys me carefully.

“Just scoping out the competition,” I reply, rolling my shoulders back. Something about this guy makes me feel uneasy. It’s not that he’s just approached us unexpectedly or that he’s Bratva. No, this feels far more dangerous than that.

“You interested in fighting?” Milo quizzes, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. His smile turns less intimidating as he raises an inquisitive brow at me.

“Something like that,” I smirk.

“Is that alright with you, or do we need your permission to enter an open venue?” Varo snaps.

My gaze shoots towards him, surprise and shock leaving me speechless. I can practically taste the venom in his words, but there’s a hint of something else there, too.

I’ve known my best friend long enough to recognize when he’s being rubbed the wrong way, but it’s unusual for him to let anything affect him to this degree. Varo is usually so cool and calm. He collects himself in a way that makes his old man proud, but the presence of Milo has shifted his personality to the point where he looks obviously aggravated, almost flustered.

What the fuck is going on?

“Chill, Bonanno,” Milo grins. “Have another drink.”

“Get fucked, Kyrovsky,” Varo growls.

Damn, something has really pissed him off.

“Hmm…” Milo hums in thought, leaning toward Alvaro and dropping his voice an octave. It’s meant for Varo’s ears only,but I hear it just as clearly as he does. “Such dirty words coming from a pretty mouth.”

The change in the atmosphere has suddenly gone from electric to verging on explosive. The muscle in Varo’s jaw flickers with irritation, his fists clenching right before he shoves Milo back and grumbles, “I need a drink.”

“Put it on my tab!” Milo calls after him, laughing as he leaves Haldon and I gaping after our best friend.

“What the fuck just happened?” Haldon mutters dumbfoundedly.

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