Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance(87)

I can practically smell the Bratva’s anger from here. A fight means money. Roman is making them lose money.

Oh God.

This isn’t just a fight anymore. This is a death wish. What if they retaliate for losing? What if the next fight kills him?

Copper doesn’t tap out, even though he can barely block Roman’s punches anymore. One right after the other, Roman descends his fists onto his prey. People with eyes filled with bloodlust wince, but they don’t look away from the massacre.

And I realize in an instant, as I avert my gaze from the fight, the Bratva aren’t the only ones who are pissed.

Ares is a nobody around here, and he just proved everyone wrong.





Chapter 25





ISABELLA





My stomach knots as I watch Copper drop onto the floor. Another man falling unconscious inside the ring.

A quarter of the crowd roars with victory. The brothers beside me join in, but I can’t bring myself to do the same. The people who’ve bet on the underdog are few and far between. Only a handful of the men’s eyes are burning with excitement, their lips pulled into smiles stretching from ear to ear.

I’m frozen in my spot as Roman winks at me and slinks back into the darkness, leaving behind the crowd to collect their winnings or mull over their losses, and for the very pissed-off Bratva to drag their fallen man out of the ring in shame.

A prickle of awareness heats the side of my face, but I can’t spot anyone looking at me when I turn.

I’m running on an adrenaline high like some junkie. My veins are buzzing from the fight, turning my blood both hot and cold. The brawl was vicious, but it doesn’t feel like it’s close to being over.

Rico’s arm curls around my shoulders, crushing me against him as he leads us to the same door Roman went through. “How good was that, aye? You know, I was thinking, if you want a tattoo too, just give me a call. Imma set you up with a real good deal.”

He slips a piece of paper into the pocket of my hoodie, and his older brother mutters, “Fucking idiot.”

Rico smiles stupidly and continues, “Promise I’ll be gentle with you, chica. I have what some people call magic hands.” He winks as he rakes his gaze up and down my body.

“Because one day they’ll disappear.” I force a chuckle at Damien’s response.

“I’m too fast for that.”

I roll my eyes without meaning to.

Rico scratches my head like I’m a dog. “What? You don’t believe me? Come to one of my matches and you’ll see your pretty boy ain’t shit. I’ll win every match just for you, bella.”

It’s odd, but I kinda like it. The only person I’ve had this dynamic with is Mickey, which makes me feel compelled to say, “I don’t know how you’re going to fight if Roman cuts off your hands.”

He smirks as he pushes the door open. “I can take Riviera. How does the saying go? Win the fight, win the girl?”

“I’m not an object.”

“Don’t need to be an object to be a prize, mu?eca.”

The idiot with the death wish doesn’t let go of me as we round a corner into the room where Mickey is wiping his body with a damp towel. His eyes brighten when they find mine, only to turn pitch black when they go to the arm wrapped around my shoulders.

The smile he draws on his lips is easy, but there’s no mistaking the deadly intent radiating from him in suffocating waves.

“Bella and I have been getting real close.” Rico curls his arm so I’m pressed even closer to his body.

He’s going to die today.

Roman’s lips peel into a smile that’s all teeth as I try to wiggle away. “Do you know what’s going to happen in ten seconds?”

Rico leans his head against mine. Surely there are easier ways for this idiot to die—ones not involving me.

“Enlighten me, hermano.”

I look at Damien, hoping—praying—he’ll step in. But apparently, his phone is more interesting.

“You have four more to get your hands off my girl, or I break them,” Roman says with deadly calm.

Rico—oh, Lord, help me—shoots me a lopsided grin and lifts his hands. “These magic hands? My Bella over here was just learning about how good they are.”

My Bella.

Oh no.

I shriek as Roman snaps, lunging across the room faster than lightning. Rico rips away from my side just as quickly. Neither lands a hit because Damien is there in a flash, throwing his brother through the open doors like a rag doll.

I press myself against the wall, trying to blend in with my surroundings—not like it does anything.

Rico, the fucking lunatic, laughs as Roman roars, “I’m going to fucking kill you, somaro.”

Donkey.

His limited vocabulary would be laughable if he didn’t look like he was possessed by a demon, held back only by Damien’s hand wrapped around his throat.

“You should ask Bella what’s in her pocket,” Rico goads.

“Shut the fuck up, Rico,” Damien growls and turns his attention to Roman. “Chill. You’re scaring your girl.”

I’m not scared. Not of Roman, at least.

Of the conflict? Yes.

Of accidentally being caught in the center of it? Yes.