Penalty Time

Kirill’s voice darkened.  Shea nodded.

“Well, let’s see about that, shall we?”  Kirill said.  “It’s time for you.”

Kirill worked his phone as Anatoly and Vlad waited on their boss.  Kirill stayed with the tiny screen and seemed to get the text he wanted, so he ordered all three men to the club room.  Shea asked what the club room was, but Anatoly told him to shut up and follow.

They walked to a narrow, metal, spiral staircase behind the cooler in the kitchen that Shea never knew existed.  Each step down made his stomach clench.  He knew to keep quiet.  The stairs ended at a dark hall.  Anatoly put Shea in front and guided him to the room at the hall’s end – bare, no furnishings, industrial, a thin mat on the floor and a hulking, nearly naked man in its center.

“This is Miroslav,” Kirill said.  “He lives in the rear apartment.  He’s training for his UFC debut.  You’re going to fight him.”

Shea turned, “I’m not fight-“





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