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“I think I’m gonna call it a day. My shoulder’s aching,” I lie, dropping my ear defenders and gun to the cabinet.
“No worries, kiddo. You’ve had a hard morning. Go chill out before tonight. Apparently, there’s something to wear in your wardrobe.”
A bitter laugh falls from my lips. “Oh yeah, I found it.”
“That good?” Nico asks, having paused his latest round to eavesdrop on me and Dad.
He’s more than aware of the monstrosities that our mother has dressed me in over the years.
I glare at him in response, letting him know silently that it is just that bad.
“Well. I can’t wait to see it,” he teases.
I suck in a breath, ready to shoot back a cutting remark, but I quickly release it again.
“I’m gonna go shower,” I say, grabbing the hoodie that I abandoned on the chair and hanging it over my arm.
Now I’ve stopped, every inch of me is starting to ache.
I was woken at the arse crack of dawn this morning when my brother bravely ripped my sheets from me and demanded I get my fat, untrained arse—his words, not mine—up and ready.
When Dad told me that Nico had agreed to train me, I didn’t think that he would take it quite so seriously.
But there he was, staring down at me with determination filling his dark eyes.
He might never admit it, but deep down, I think he’s actually excited about turning me into a bad-arse. I’m sure there are selfish reasons in there somewhere, but right now, I’m just glad that both he and Dad are on board with this.
I’m yet to discover what Mum thinks about the whole thing. But honestly, I really don’t give a fuck.
“You need to be ready by seven,” Dad calls as I walk away, quickly eating up the space Alex had put between us.
“Yeah, I’ll be ready,” I say, although my words are missing any kind of enthusiasm.
My eyes hold Alex’s as I get closer. “I’m fine,” I assure him. “Play with the boys, yeah?”
I take a step, ready to keep going, but he reaches out, catching my arm.
“Don’t lie to me, Cal. I can see it in your eyes.”
“It’s done. Over. Time to move on.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Is it?”
Ripping my arm from his grip, I focus on the house in the distance and take off.
“Bro, I need some fucking competition here. The old man has lost his touch.”
“Watch your mouth, kid, and remember who trained you in the first place.”
“I do. Uncle Damien.”
Shaking my head at their banter, I force myself to keep moving. Dark figures move in the tree line, their eyes burning into me, the reminder I really don’t need that I’m being constantly watched and protected.
I get it. The Italians are a threat. But are they really stupid enough to take a hit at us on our own property? Probably not.
I grab a bottle of water, seeing as that’s all the options I have in the main kitchen as well, and then head down to hide in my basement, hoping that Nico keeps Alex entertained for long enough that he won’t feel the need to come down here and drag up everything I’m desperately trying to ignore.
