Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

19 | Nina

The next day, I wake up with The Brothers Karamazov next to my pillow.

One of the pages is dog-eared, and I frown, flipping to it quickly. My eyes scan the page and snag on a line circled with pencil. There are no other annotations on the page.

I have so much to say that I am afraid I shall tell you nothing.

It's something and nothing at the same time. It's hopeful—it gives me insight into what Santo is feeling. But it's sad, because it reveals someone unable to communicate. Yet somehow, it's a little closer to enough.

Something changes after that, but just slightly. Not enough for me to put a finger on it or do anything but continue with life as normally as I can after my pathetic escape attempt.

For all that Tommaso and Nico acknowledge it, you'd think it never happened. I'd bet money on the possibility that Santo told them not to mention it. I try not to think of it either, spending my days focused on Pistachio. The dog has certainly adopted me as his master, always tumbling after me in a mess of scrabbling paws and perky ears. He even sleeps in the crook of my neck at night, which became adorable after he stopped having accidents.

I also focus on my training. Regardless of anything else going on, this is something positive. We spar in the gym, and Santo starts teaching me to use weapons like guns and knives to fight back. He tells me I'm learning and getting better, although he always follows that encouragement with the reminder that there's a long way left for us to go. I need to get stronger, but I'm learning, and it feels good.

I do my best to not let his proximity affect me—I even stop seeking out his company when I can't sleep—but it's practically impossible.

The only time it's easy is when Massimo is there. Genuine fear and discomfort plague me every time we're in the same room so that I can't focus on whatever energy is passing between me and Santo. I can understand why Massimo is so against me, which makes it worse. I can't even be angry at him, but I can be unnerved by his presence.

Add to the mix genuine terror the first time I watch him spar with Santo. Not terror for me—at least in that moment—but for anyone who decides to cross the brothers. If I didn't know they're sparring, I would genuinely think they're trying to kill each other. They're both so fast, so ruthless. Santo is stronger; his hits are more violent and savage. But Massimo is quicker, his strikes cleaner and exact. They match each other perfectly and I've never seen anything quite like it; the way they move, the speed and strength with which they strike. Afterwards, with both of them glistening in sweat, blood, and a few new bruises, I can't help but send a prayer for anyone who ever goes against the two of them.

Tommaso and Nico spar with me, too. Santo orders it so I'll be able to get as much real-life experience as possible. He always stands outside the ring, arms crossed, on alert. Despite Nico's age and smaller size, I can't even beat him. But they're good teachers; Tommaso doesn't even make any sexual jokes when it's his turn. He's all business for once, explaining what I'm doing wrong and how I can improve. I can certainly see how seriously the Romanos take self-defense, even for women. 

It's a far cry from the way the Genovese men see it, and it makes me feel more human. Like maybe I can control some things.

But it's a mistake to spar with Massimo.

I do it because I don't want them all to see how scared he makes me, how small I feel because of him. He doesn't seem human to me, and I know that's not fair, but the little regard he held for my life in the beginning still makes me nervous. And even if Santo wants to protect me for the time being, when it comes down to business, his loyalty is first to his family. His blood.