I went for him again, but Father side-stepped out the way, and I caught his tie instead. It was already loosened and came away easily.
Father charged again, ramming his fist into my cheek. Pain bloomed over the right side of my face, causing a future bruise–or broken jaw.
I fell back at the collision, my right eye seeing black briefly as the impact resonated through my body.
“Do you think you can go up against me, boy?” Father snarled. “I will make a meal out of your bones.”
I reared back as his next blow came. He missed me by a hair’s breadth, allowing me seconds to duck under his arm and aim for the vulnerable flesh. He grunted as my fist connected with his ribs.
“You!”
I went for his other side, barely missing his attempts to grab me. Some of his fingers caught my hair and pulled but the pain wasn’t enough to distract me from jabbing my fist into his throat.
Father fell back into the table, the legs splintering beneath his weight. He went down with it. I went with him, intent on doing more harm. We hit the ground with a crash, my fingers wrapped around his throat.
“GET OFF HIM!” A hand grabbed the back of my sweater and yanked me back. The smell of vodka and cigars indicated it was Viktor. “You filthy boy! That is your Pakhan!”
Father got to his feet. He spotted Viktor holding me back and made a swipe for me, ever the opportunist.
No honor, I thought as his fist collided with my stomach.
I gasped for air, unable to hide my body’s natural instinct to breathe—even if it made me look like a gasping fish in Viktor’s grip.
Father grabbed my chin, holding me still. His fingers dug so tight I knew they would either bruise or snap my jaw in half. “Did you think you could beat me, boy? You may be ambitious, but you are still no match for me!”
I swung my head forward, our foreheads clunking against each other. My ears rang as I pulled back, filtering the sound of Father cursing me out.
Viktor wrenched me back, briefly taking me off my balance.
“Tell Viktor to release me and I’ll show you an equal opponent,” I sneered. My anger was getting a hold of me, igniting my blood and need to destroy this pathetic man in front of me. I was the strongest in this room and everyone needed to know it—especially the man I called Father. “Scared of a fair fight?”
“You have my temper,” Father replied, his words even, despite the furious expression taking a hold of his face. “Get a hold of it, boy, or it will kill you.”
“I doubt it.”
Father came for me again.
I turned in Viktor’s grip, and my father went colliding into his Brigadier. Viktor shouted as we fell back, his grip on me loosening ever so slightly.
I tore myself out, my sweater ripping behind me. In my hand, I still had the tie…
The idea came to me like a jolt of lightning, infecting my thoughts and veins.
I went for my father, aiming for his knees. Two hard kicks to the bone caused him to grunt and fall. Viktor tried to intervene—with one clean swipe, I knocked Viktor back, the old man falling against the wall with a crash, then falling still.
The tie was silky in my hands, worth more than the room we stood in. It was the color of emeralds, with little flecks of faint gold in the pattern.
Father tried to shove me away as I neared, but he was on the ground, incapacitated against all attacks. I came up behind him and wrapped the tie around his neck, almost as if I meant to tie it for him and complete his suit.
My knuckles turned white as I pulled the silk tighter, while his neck muscles strained against the silk.
Father reached for the tie, trying to tug it back, gulping and gasping for air as his circulation was cut off.
My muscles contracted as I pulled tighter and tighter.
His lips turned blue, his eyes popped out, his throat choked for air.
Then his fingers stopped, falling to the ground in surrender.
I felt his body die before I saw it. The coil of his muscles relaxed, his weight falling off his knees and to the ground, unable to resist gravity.
I loosened my grip on the tie, allowing it to slide around his neck easily.
Father hit the ground with a thump.
Behind me, I heard Viktor struggling to his feet, preparing to attack me