Page 86 of Unravel Me

For a moment, I stare at the empty plate. After a brief hesitation, I decide to take it to the kitchen because I feel guilty about the whole thing. It's another meal I'm skipping, and on top of that, everyone has to take care of me, wait on me, and tiptoe around me. I'm a terrible guest.

I leave my room with the plate in my hands. The hallway seems deserted. I go downstairs to the living room, but there's no one there either. I carry the plate into the kitchen, and that's when I hear something coming from the ventilation grate, the muffled noise of what seems like several voices. It sounds like they're coming from somewhere beneath the floor.

My curiosity grows because I suddenly remember that Mauro and Veyron were supposed to spar tonight. Unfortunately, I'm an uninvited guest down there, so I decide to find another way to see what's going on.

I carefully crack open the door to the patio and step outside, looking around and studying the walls of the building. Most of it is constructed from logs, but the four-foot-high lower level is made of stone.

I walk along the walls, stepping over clumps of evergreen shrubs. Then I notice a long row of windows set low to the ground. I wonder if one of them might lead to the underground gym.

Naturally, I follow the sounds as much as I can, making use of my omega hearing, until I finally reach one of the windows, with light spilling through it.

I'm glad it's relatively dark outside, illuminated only by the pale glow of the garden lights. It means I can look inside without being easily noticed.

It's cold. I'm wearing nothing but a sweater, and it's around 45 degrees outside. Still, I crouch down slightly and peer through the window.

Sure enough, I've found what I'm looking for. It's a gym, a sizable room filled with all kinds of training equipment, much of it clearly meant for heavy lifting. I know quite a lot about what's in here because, after all, I'm no stranger to training myself. I've even worked with heavier weights from time to time to build up my chest. But the equipment is definitely not the most interesting thing in the room.

That would be the two alphas rolling around on the large mat in the middle…

They're being watched by almost the entire family, seated together on a bench against the wall. Emilio, Gianni, and Tony are all here. Renato is the only one missing.

Veyron and Mauro are wearing nothing but shorts, and they're currently wrestling on the mat, rolling and twisting around. I don't know much about the finer points of martial arts, even though I've always enjoyed watching them because there's something aesthetically fascinating about it. Still, I have a hard time telling who's got the upper hand.

Mauro seems to have more raw strength and manages to pin Veyron more often, but Veyron's strengths are agility and flexibility. The guy is practically made of rubber, which lets him slip out of Mauro's grip, twist himself around, and do incredible things with his waist, hips, and pretty much every mobile joint in his body. He manages to wriggle free surprisingly often, and that's no easy feat because Mauro doesn't let up.

So yeah. I stare. I mean, ogle them, eye them, fix my gaze on them like a perv.

What can I say… this is a genuinely fascinating sight. They're both sweaty, so clearly the sparring has been going on for quite a while.

Mauro's skin is darker, with a warm, golden tan, while Veyron is pale, like so many redheads. Their bodies create quite a contrast, but both of them are in incredible shape, lean, defined, and highly trained, with impressive muscles and strength to envy.

I watch for a moment as Mauro tries to mount Veyron from above, pinning him to the mat, but Veyron twists like an eel and, taking advantage of their slick, sweaty bodies, manages to slide free.

My eyes fix on the prominent muscles across Mauro's body, watching them work and flex as he fights to maintain control.

Silvio is cheering them on, clapping and shouting words of encouragement at both of them without taking sides. Gianni watches in silence with a rather grim expression, while Emilio and Tony seem simply amused by the intense display of martial arts skill.

My gaze settles back on Mauro's body. I watch his powerful back as the light plays across his shoulder blades and the muscles surrounding his spine, his skin glistening with sweat while hard, taut muscles shift beneath it. I notice that even though it's so cold outside, I'm suddenly… feeling strangely warm, and the blood in my body starts flowing somewhere it really shouldn't.

I'm curious where Mauro learned to fight, because he's clearly operating at a very high level. Technically, he seems better than Veyron and appears to have more experience. Veyron makes up for it with his speed and flexibility, but there's no doubt that Mauro is the more skilled fighter, at least as far as I can judge with my amateur's eye.

You don't reach this level of proficiency by training once a week at some local fight club and going out for beers with your buddies afterward. Mauro must have spent years honing his skills at some point in his life. So what is he doing here, now, living in his uncle's estate in a tiny town lost in the woods?

The time has definitely come. All the secrets between us have to disappear, because I hate the impenetrable wall they create between us.

It starts to drizzle, so I decide I'd better get out of here, even though I'm deeply reluctant to leave. Watching this spectacle is exciting, to say the least.

I take the same route back, through the patio and up the stairs to my room. My cheeks are flushed, and my head is full of flashes of Mauro's half-naked body.

I sit on the edge of the bed, but I can't stay still. My emotions are running high, and there's an uncomfortable stiffness in my pants.

Taking a few short breaths, I walk over to the back window.

This one doesn't overlook the garden but the driveway in front of the house.

Parked there is a pickup truck loaded with what looks like logs or thick wooden planks. Two men are standing beside it, talking to Renato Santoro.

Pale yellow globe lights line the edge of the driveway, casting a dim glow, and against it, I can see the trembling veil of rain falling over the men as they converse.