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83. Hit the Floor
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2025-07-11 08:01:08“Get up,” I whispered. “Please get up, Misha.”
Knuckles raised his arms and roared like a beast crowned king. He turned his back to Misha, laughing, soaking up the praise from his bloodthirsty audience.“You fucking see that?!” he shouted. “See who fucking win?! Me! That's me!”“Knock him out for good, Knuckles!” someone bellowed. “Break his fuckin’ neck!”I no longer cared how obvious my panic was. Please, get up, Misha. Get up right now.Waiting for a miracle to happen, I kept praying in my head. And then, just as Knuckles basked in his premature glory—Misha moved.He surged up from the floor like vengeance incarnate. Bloodied. Gritting his teeth. And launched himself onto Knuckles’ back.The whole platform gasped.“What the—”“No fucking way!”Misha leapt onto Knuckles’ back with terrifying precision, arms locking around the man’s throat, legs snapping in at his ribs. The chokehold
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“Your haul,” he tilted his head at me. “Or did you forget your one-dollar bet already?”“Oh.”Right. That ridiculous, last-minute one-dollar bet I threw on Misha. A loan I got from Vincent himself.“Practically everyone else threw their cash at Knuckles because they always like gambling. Or for respect. Loyalty. Or just dumb brute faith.”He handed the stacked bills to me and that was when my jaw nearly unhinged. “You’re now the proud owner of every dollar those arrogant meatheads wasted tonight. That’s nearly a hundred people, by the way.”“Oh my God,” I muttered, eyes wide as I stared at the cash.Misha leaned closer and gave a low whistle. “You just robbed the pit without throwing a single punch.”“Thanks to you,” I muttered.“Power couple things. Kind of hot, hmm?” Misha's eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m proud of you, Angel.”Ace groaned like the sight of us being so close physically hurt him. “Fo
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 85. A Death Wish
“What is it that you want, boy?” Misha slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked at Vincent. “I want control.”There was a collective intake of breath. What— After a painfully stretched silence, Vincent finally said, "You're bold. But boldness doesn’t earn a seat at my table. I don’t hand over my house keys to the first stray dog that bites.” “I’m not asking for keys,” Misha replied. “I’m demanding a trial. You saw what I can do. I didn’t just win a fight. I shook your fucking throne room. Everyone here will remember this night. You will.”“You want me to give you command?” Vincent asked, voice colder now. “Of what? Of whom?”“I’m not picky.”That answer caused confusion. Already at its tipping point, the pit quieted into a sharper silence.Vincent regarded Misha like one might a particularly bold insect that refused to die underfoot. “You’re not picky.”“No,” Misha said, cool and
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 84. Claiming A Throne
I pressed both hands to my mouth, knees weak, tears suddenly stinging the backs of my eyes.Misha won the fight, but the crowd exploded with rage.“No way!”“Rigged! That was fucking rigged!”“Get up, Knuckles! You can’t fucking lose to that pretty punk!”The boos hit like a physical wave, rattling through the arena, but I didn’t care. Let them throw tantrums. Let them scream. Let them watch their brute fall to the one they all bet against.My hands were still shaking as I looked at Misha.He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t taunting. Just breathing. Barely upright. His arms hung limp at his sides, his head bowed for a second before he looked up right at me. He winked cheekily. Only then did I exhale a big relief. Ace let out a low whistle next to me, his jaw slack. “Well, shit. I stand corrected.”Renaldi looked like he was about to throw a tantrum. His face was blotched red with fury, fists clenched
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 83. Hit the Floor
“Get up,” I whispered. “Please get up, Misha.”Knuckles raised his arms and roared like a beast crowned king. He turned his back to Misha, laughing, soaking up the praise from his bloodthirsty audience.“You fucking see that?!” he shouted. “See who fucking win?! Me! That's me!”“Knock him out for good, Knuckles!” someone bellowed. “Break his fuckin’ neck!”I no longer cared how obvious my panic was. Please, get up, Misha. Get up right now.Waiting for a miracle to happen, I kept praying in my head. And then, just as Knuckles basked in his premature glory—Misha moved.He surged up from the floor like vengeance incarnate. Bloodied. Gritting his teeth. And launched himself onto Knuckles’ back.The whole platform gasped.“What the—”“No fucking way!”Misha leapt onto Knuckles’ back with terrifying precision, arms locking around the man’s throat, legs snapping in at his ribs. The chokehold
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 82. On Your Knees, Lover Boy
The sound cut through the ring.Misha stumbled, legs giving out beneath him, and hit the floor hard. His palms and knees scraped against the floor.A brief hush.Then someone whistled low. “There it is.”“Finally,” another said. “I was starting to think this was gonna be embarrassing.”But I couldn’t hear the rest.Misha didn’t move. Still on his hands and knees, hair falling over his face, shoulders tight with the aftershock. From where I sat above the pit right beside Vincent, I could see him perfectly. His jaw was angled toward us, and for one horrifying second, I saw the expression behind it.Shock. He didn’t expect that. His eyes were wide, stunned, blinking like the room tilted sideways.My heart seized. He was shocked and hurt.The audience roared with approval.“Down so soon, pretty boy?”“C’mon, get up! I thought you said this was foreplay!”“Shoul
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 81. One Dollar Bet for Misha
We filed down the stone steps like spectators at a coliseum, but my heart felt nothing like a spectator’s. It pounded wildly, like it was trying to escape. Maybe because it knew I couldn’t. The further we descended, the heavier the air became. Damp. Hot. And filled with something primal.The corridor opened into a wide, circular chamber with vaulted ceiling, buzzing overhead lights, iron railings above low benches, shadowed alcoves lining the walls. And at the center was the ring.Bare. Brutal.Waiting for sacrifices.Knuckles was already rolling his neck in the center of the pit, shedding his suit jacket and dress shirt with theatrical flair. He flexed like a man who knew the crowd was behind him. Scars rippled over his shoulders. A butcher’s build. His fists looked like they’d been broken and reformed by rage.And then, Misha handed me his watch with all the calm of a man about to check the mail.I grabbed his wrist, fingers ti
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