I take short, calming breaths as the memories of last night come racing back to me like a haunting movie on replay inside my head. It hits me like a freight train and drops me to my knees, the weight of the boys’ deaths resting heavily on my shoulders, the grief too much for me to bear.
Grief claims me, and I struggle to suck in a breath. Gia expects me to move on today, to just get up out of bed as though they never mattered, as though I should share in her disdain for the boys. That’ll never happen, and she was a fool to even suggest it.
Last night, I spent an hour sitting in the shower as the hot water washed the boys’ blood from my skin and down the drain, and as I watched the last pieces I had of them vanish, I replayed their final moments in my mind over and over again. The pain in their eyes as they fell into the grass. The desperation in Levi’s voice when he begged me not to watch. I tossed and turned fitfully in a cold sweat, unable to fall asleep without those three gunshots startling me awake. I know it was real, yet every fiber in my body screams for them to walk through the door and tell me this was some sick joke. I mean, sure, Roman would have hated it, Levi would have rolled his eyes, and Marcus would have laughed until he made himself sick … but he would have made it up to me in a way that only Marcus could, and damn it, I would have forgiven him before I even came.
I can’t be without them. I can’t go on with this pain. I don’t know how to exist in this world without them now.
My head falls into my hands as long, painful moments pass by. I can’t break like this. I promised myself that come morning, I would rise like a phoenix, but it’s too hard. How am I supposed to get up and face the day knowing that they’re not here, knowing that I’ll never hold them again, never feel their touch or hear those sweet, whispered words?
Fuck.
I have to do this alone. I have to get up and train, I have to become stronger, fiercer, and wiser or I won’t stand a fucking chance. If I’m going to make Giovanni pay for what he did, then I have to survive this. I won’t have an endless number of chances. There will be only one, and when that time comes, I’m going to be ready.
That cold, hard knowledge pulls me to my feet, and I turn toward the private bathroom, drawing my hands across my face, drying my tears.
I won’t back down from this.
Giovanni DeAngelis fucked up when he set his sick, twisted games upon my men, and for that, he will face the firing squad. He pissed off the wrong bitch.
After stepping through to the bathroom, I quickly go through my morning routine. There are no training clothes in sight, but for some reason, I trust that Gia will have something prepared for me when I get down to the training room—wherever the hell that might be.
Knowing damn well that I’m pushing Zeke’s limit of ten minutes, I push my way out of my bedroom and saunter down the impressive staircase, finding Zeke standing at the bottom with a scowl on his face and his eyes piercing right through me. If looks could kill … goddamn.
His jaw tightens, and as he looks at me, there’s not a doubt in my mind that he can tell I’ve been crying again, and I instantly hate how weak that makes me feel, but I’ll own it. If those tears were for anyone apart from my three devils, then I’d happily stand here and allow him to call me a little bitch, but I won’t apologize for tears shed for them.
Zeke turns on his heel, his hands held behind his back. He doesn’t tell me to follow him, but the silent demand is there. Every bone and fiber in my body tells me to get the fuck out of here, knowing Gia Moretti’s definition of ‘training’ probably isn’t going to be rainbows and flowers. It’s going to be brutal, and it’s going to have me begging for freedom, but if she wants to turn me into a fucking warrior, then so be it. I’ll rise to the fucking occasion just as the boys would expect.
Following Zeke through the massive residence, we step through to an elevator. Tension rolls over my body the moment the door closes, locking us in. This motherfucker could end my life with his bare hands. The last thing I want is to be trapped in a small space with him, especially considering the lethal scowl stretched across his face.
A million comments about having his knickers in a twist try to fly out of my mouth, but I force myself to bite down on my tongue until I taste the coppery, metallic tang of blood. I doubt this dude is very forgiving and if I start off on the wrong foot with him, it’s only going to make my training that much harder.
The elevator takes us down to the basement and dread spears through me, my blood turning cold with the unknown. I haven’t had much luck when it comes to meeting new people and being invited for a stroll through their basements, yet when the elevator dings and the heavy metal door slides back to let in a rush of clinical light, my jaw goes slack, dropping open in surprise.
I step out of the elevator, staring around me in wonder. This place is done up like some kind of combat heaven, and if I were in a vampire hunter movie, this is the kind of place I’d want to train. The basement training level must be as wide as the actual house upstairs, and I’m surprised to find so many people down here.
Men are sparring, fighting hand-to-hand combat while the metallic clash of blades sound across the room. There’s a shooting range and a wall of training weapons, but what catches my attention is the pissed-off woman standing in the very center of the room, her glare piercing right through me.
I swallow hard, remembering her words from last night. You’re going to live with me, you’re going to train with me, and then you’re going to become me. I’m fucked.
“Prepare yourself, girl,” Zeke murmurs, his lips barely moving. “If you thought training with those DeAngelis scum was a nightmare, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
He steps away from me as though he didn’t just fill my veins with the heaviest kind of fear, his hands behind his back once again. Zeke strides across the training room, only stopping and turning when he reaches Gia’s side.
As I get closer, I watch the way Gia’s lips press into a hard line, her gaze falling down my body and taking in what little I wear. “You’re late,” she snaps. “My time is money and you’re wasting it.”
I don’t bother with a response and her stare hardens, her eyes filling with venom as I do nothing but stare back at her. I guess we’re doing things the hard way today, but I really don’t care either way. If she wants to beat the shit out of me under the disguise of training, then so be it, at least this way, I might feel something.
“You were told you would be training today,” she says, stepping toward me, her gaze dropping down my body again. “Why are you not prepared for your lessons?”
My eyes drop to take in my lack of shoes and the baggy tank I slept in that’s showing off a little too much side boob. “Oh, um, you see, when I was twelve, I never had some big, hairy dude break into my home and say, ‘You’re a wizard, Harry,’ so unfortunately, I don’t come equipped with the ability to manifest training gear.”
Her gaze drops away and a hint of embarrassment flashes through her eyes, realizing that perhaps the little oversight of having clothes ready for me may have been her own fault, despite her declaration of getting me everything that I could need.
“Right,” she says, her lips tight. “Get started with Zeke, and I will arrange for one of my guards to bring you something appropriate.”
My gaze snaps to Zeke’s body and I arch a brow. “Oh, you’re going to share your man with me, huh? I’ve been waiting to feel his body all over mine. Tell me the rules though, do I get to bite him?”
Gia’s face reddens with rage, and she places her hand on Zeke’s chest, stopping him from doing the exact thing that’s probably flashing in her own mind. She looks up at the beast of a man beside her, her eyes dark and angry. “Get the girl some clothes—a training crop, tights, and shoes,” she snaps before turning back to me and indicating the training mat to our left.