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I look him up and down. “You look good, then. You’re broader than I remember.”
“That’s because I was only a little over eighteen when I left. I was strong and muscular, but I broadened over the next several years.”
“Mikey was never as big as you,” I say.
“I know. God…” His face twists. “If only…”
“Don’t go there,” I say.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a minute before speaking again. “I can’t help it. I try not to be sad. The whole monastery thing really helped me. But in the end, I have to live with the fact that what I did was selfish.”
“It’s not selfish to not want to be a criminal,” I say.
“Yeah, I know. I truly do.” He sighs. “Still… He was my brother.”
“He was my brother too.” I grab his arm. “But I’ve got to tell you, Vinnie, it’s good to have you back. I lost two brothers to this family. I’m glad I could at least get one of them back.”
He pulls me into a hug, and I succumb to his brotherly embrace. I’m reminded of what it felt like when my father would hug me. Of course, knowing what I know now, I realize a hug from him will never feel the same way again.
I pull back. “Falcon taught me some self-defense. He’s got me on a regimen to tone my own muscles up. But we’re going slowly, because he doesn’t want me in pain.”
“He’s a smart man. You want to show me what he’s taught you?”
“Absolutely.”
I lead him into the gym in the basement. The center of the room is open, dedicated to bodyweight exercises and stretching. Interlocking rubber mats cover the floor, providing a forgiving surface for high-impact activities or the occasional dropped weight. This is where Falcon taught me self-defense, and this is where I’ll show Vinnie.
I turn to face him, a wide grin spreading across my face. “I’m about to change your whole perception of your little sister.”
He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “All right, I’m all eyes.”
I gesture for him to come closer. “First thing he taught me was stance and balance. You need a solid base, like this.” I position my feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. “It makes all the difference whether you’re throwing a punch or avoiding one.”
Vinnie nods, stepping onto the rubber mats. “Sounds like you’ve got the right idea so far. Show me what you’ve got.”
I start with a basic jab, the air whistling as my fist cuts through it. “Speed over power to begin with,” I say, my voice steady, eyes fixed. “But then, you combine them.”
“Let’s make it a bit more interactive,” Vinnie suggests, rolling his shoulders. “Pretend I’m your attacker.”
“All right.” I motion him forward. “Try to grab my shoulder.”
He lunges, a bit theatrically, and I sidestep, redirecting his momentum and following through with a mock elbow strike to his ribs. “You use their energy, Vinnie. You don’t fight against it, you guide it where you want.”
He rubs his side, feigning injury. “Nice.”
I giggle, feeling the adrenaline rush. “There’s more. I learned how to get out of a chokehold. Want to see?”
“Yeah, but go easy on me.” He places his hands loosely around my neck from behind.
With a swift movement, I drop down into a horse stance, making myself heavier and harder to hold. I shoot my arm up and hook it around his, pulling it away from my neck as I turn into him and push him back. “That’s how you create space and escape.”
Vinnie stumbles, seemingly impressed. “That’s effective.”
I can’t help a proud smile. “But it’s not all about escaping. Sometimes you have to disable your attacker to get away.” I walk over to the padded wall with diagrams of pressure points and strike zones. “You aim for the vulnerabilities—eyes, throat, knees, solar plexus.”
He follows, studying the diagrams. “This is serious stuff, Savannah.”
“It is,” I agree and point to a dummy in the corner. “I practice my strikes there. Accuracy is as important as strength.”
