33. Chapter 33

thirty-three

Leonid

" C offee, pakhan?" Maksim’s stupid grin makes me want to punch him.

This asshole looks too fucking happy for someone who can’t find a trace of Red. How the hell is that possible?

“ Poshol na khuy ,” I snarl, shouldering past him into the gym.

The stench of sweat and leather hits me as we enter. It’s early, the place empty except for us and the beast in the ring.

This is our sanctuary, the training ground built by my dedushka . It reeks of blood, sweat, and fucking loyalty—thick with the spirit of brotherhood.

Maksim takes a sip of his coffee. And I can feel his stare on the side of my face.

“Didn’t get your dick wet last night, huh?” Maksim snickers. “No wonder you’re being a little bitch.”

I whip around, grabbing his shirt. “Keep talking, and I’ll rearrange your face.”

Maksim doesn’t flinch. Bastard knows I won’t actually do it. “Touchy, touchy. Our girl’s really got you wound up, eh?”

I release him with a growl. “Your detective skills are as sharp as ever,” I shoot back, shaking my head. “Any leads?”

Maksim rubs his neck, his expression turning serious. “Nothing solid. But here’s the thing, boss. Our mystery assassin? She’s got some serious protection. Every time I think I’m close, the trail goes cold.”

We approach the ring, where Dmitry “The Siberian Slaughter” Volkov is warming up. At 6’5” and 270 pounds of pure muscle, he’s a fucking monster. The mat creaks under his weight as he bounces on his toes.

“Connected to the Feds?” I ask, my voice low.

Maksim nods, his eyes narrowing. “Could be. But there’s something else. You think… you think Ludis might’ve sent her?”

My twin brother’s name hits like a knife to the chest. All these years, we’ve been trying to destroy each other. I might look like I’m winning, but Ludis… that cunning prick is always one step ahead.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “If he’s involved…”

“Then we’re in deeper shit than we thought,” Maksim finishes.

“You two done gossiping like schoolgirls?” Dmitry’s gravelly voice booms from the ring. He spits into a bucket, grinning down at us. “Or are you gonna stand there all day with your dicks in your hands?”

I strip off my shirt, tossing it aside. “Keep running your mouth, ugly. I’m gonna enjoy shutting it for you.”

Dmitry’s laugh is like rocks in a blender. “Big words from a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. What’s the matter, Leonid? Some bitch got you losing sleep?”

As I climb into the ring, Maksim settles nearby with his tablet. “I’ll keep digging while you two dance. Try not to break anything important, yeah?”

The canvas creaks under my feet as I face Dmitry. He’s already bouncing, looking like he wants to rip my head off. Good. I need this. I need to hit something, to feel something break under my fists.

“So,” Dmitry grunts as we circle each other, “what skirt’s got the great Leonid Kuznetsov all twisted up? Must be something special to have you looking like warmed-over shit.”

I throw a hard jab, aiming for that smug face. “Shut the fuck up and fight.”

His grin widens as he blocks the punch. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this.”