Page 63 of Bratva Prisoner
Forty minutes later, we’re standing in the main warehouse while Dmitri explains the situation. Three containers from our latest shipment have been compromised by customs officials who weren’t supposed to be looking too closely at our operations.
“Someone tipped them off,” Dmitri declares grimly. “This wasn’t a random inspection. They knew exactly which containers to target.”
“Any idea who?” Maksim asks with a deep-set scowl.
“Working on it. But in the meantime, we need to move the remaining inventory before they decide to expand their investigation.”
What follows is two hours of workers scrambling to relocate sensitive cargo while maintaining the appearance of normal operations. I watch Maksim coordinate the entire process with impressive calm, issuing orders and making decisions with the kind of confidence that comes from years of experience.
The sound of raised voices from the loading dock interrupts the organized activity. Maksim’s entire body goes tense as he recognizes whatever threat is approaching.
“Stay close to me,” he instructs, already moving toward the disturbance.
What we find is a group of men I don’t recognize confronting several of Maksim’s workers. The conversation looks heated, with lots of aggressive gesturing and posturing that screams trouble.
“Friends of yours?” I whisper.
“Former business associates who don’t understand the meaning of ‘no.’”
Maksim approaches the group, and his presence immediately commands attention from everyone involved. I follow at a safe distance, close enough to help if needed but far enough away to avoid becoming a target.
The confrontation that follows is brief but violent. Someone throws the first punch, and within seconds, the entire loading dock erupts into mayhem. I watch Maksim handle two attackers at once, demonstrating extensive training, while hisworkers deal with the others, and I stand there like an idiot, gawking at them as I try to stay out of the line of fire.
When it’s over, three of the intruders are on the ground while the rest have fled.
“Are you hurt?” he asks when he finally reaches my side.
“I’m fine. But Maksim, I can’t keep being a liability in situations like this.”
“You’re not a liability.”
“I’m a person who can’t defend herself when violence breaks out. In your world, that’s the definition of liability.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off before he can start.
“Teach me to fight.” It’s a demand, not a request. “Teach me to protect myself so you don’t have to worry about my safety when things get dangerous.”
“Alyssa—”
“I’m serious. I want to learn how to handle myself in your world instead of just being someone you have to protect.”
The internal conflict plays out across his face as he weighs his desire to keep me safe against the practical reality of our situation. Finally, he nods with obvious reluctance.
“Fine. But we do this properly. Real training, not just a few self-defense moves.”
“Deal.”
Two days later, I’m standing in the private gym at Ravenshollow wearing workout clothes and trying not to feel intimidated by Maksim’s obvious expertise. He’s changed into athletic gear that shows off his impressive physique, and the sight of him in form-fitting clothes does thingsto my concentration that aren’t helpful for learning combat techniques.
“We’ll start with basic defensive positions,” he explains as he demonstrates a stance that looks deceptively casual. “For someone your size, the goal isn’t to win fights; it’s to create opportunities to escape.”
“What if escape isn’t an option?”
“Then you fight dirty and aim for vulnerable spots. Eyes, throat, groin, knees. Any place that will cause enough pain to give you an advantage.”
Over the next hour, I learn how to block punches, break holds, and strike effectively with limited strength. Maksim is a patient teacher, and he corrects my form and encourages my progress as we go.
“Better,” he praises as I successfully execute a defensive move that sends him stumbling backward. “But you’re still telegraphing your intentions. Try to keep your face neutral until the moment you strike.”
