22. Chapter 22

Jade

Fight class sucks.

Contrary to how I snapped on Kim, I am not a punching kind of girl. Why do I have to hurt my hands to hurt someone else? It's counterintuitive bullshit, and I hate it.

I'd rather use a weapon.

"I am not doing another fight class next year," I tell Matteo as he slowly lowers an ice pack to my sore knuckles. "I don't care if I level up or not, never again."

He chuckles at my dramatic sigh.

"Do you want something for the pain?"

I perk up at the offer.

"Do you have something?"

"Tylenol," Armani interjects, giving Matteo a hard stare.

"Oh, lighten up, Sergeant Killjoy," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I was going to give her a gummy, not a fucking Percocet."

"You have Percocets?" I question, widening my eyes at him.

"Not for you, he doesn't," Armani responds, stating the obvious.

"I don't want one," I reply, giving him a look that screams duh. "I'm just shocked he has them. Does The Outfit sell drugs here?"

"No, we just have a personal stash with the doctors here," Matteo explains. "For emergencies."

That makes so much more sense.

"But you do have gummies?"

"Yep," Matteo says, lifting up my other hand to inspect it. "You need to wrap your hands with a thicker layer next time."

"I wrapped them until I could barely close my fists," I mutter grumpily. "Can't I just switch to another weapons class?" Shooting with Armani seems way better than learning how to half-ass defend myself in that horrid class.

"We can pull you out of fight training for another free period, but it's too late to switch," Armani suggests with no trace of judgment in his voice. He doesn't care if I want to quit as long as it'll make me happy.

But coming here, I told myself that I would try my best. Quitting this soon wouldn't be my best.

I hesitate before saying, "Maybe if it gets worse."

"Okay." He nods. "Just say the word, and I'll handle it."

"Thank you," I reply sincerely.

"Try to lay off your right hand in the next class," Matteo advises, pointing to the knuckle of my middle finger. "This is pretty bruised, so that's likely why you're so sore."

"We have an option to do conditioning when we're in pain, so I'll just do that." Running laps and some doing strength training sounds gross but better than crushing my already bruised hands into a punching bag.

"Good idea," he agrees, gently laying a second ice pack on that hand.

With both of my limbs pinned under ice, I can't grab my emailer as it buzzes against my hip.

"Will you check that?" I ask, nodding to the little device for Matteo to grab.

He flicks it open, studying the screen before his lips spread wide.

"What is it?"

Without explaining, he spins the screen so that it faces me. "I love seeing him be a little sap for you."

I smile before I even see the message, knowing it's from our dad.

Dad

How are you doing, sweetheart? Leon brought Bastian by today, and we showed him pictures of you. He's very excited to meet his new aunt.

I stick out my lower lip, heart warming.

"Awww," I draw out. "Will you text him back for me?"

Of course he agrees, asking me what to say and then showing me the screen again before clicking send.

Me

I'm so excited to meet him too. Doing pretty good, sore from fight training but enjoying everything else. We're going to cook swordfish this week in Cooking!

"One more thing," Matteo hums, typing out another message. As he shows it to me, he puts a finger to his lips to mime that it's a secret from Armani.

Me

Also, Daddy, is it okay if Matteo gives me a little gummy? I'm okay, really, but my knuckle is bruised, and it hurts a bit.

I have to suck in my cheeks to hide a laugh. Giving him a look of approval is all he needs to send that through as well. Daddy was a little bit of an overkill, but it does tend to soften him up. The first time I ever called him that, I was crying through a nightmare, and he was the one to wake me up.

It was obvious that it meant a lot for him to be able to comfort me, and he held me through the disorientation until I was able to fall back asleep. Since then, I've used it a few times, usually when telling him I love him. I never got to call him that growing up, so it feels like my right to make up for lost time.

It's not even thirty seconds later before my emailer buzzes again.

Dad

As long as he's with you the whole time and you feel okay taking one, it's alright with me. I've got a busy night tonight, so I have to go, but we'll talk soon, okay? Stay safe, sweetheart. We all love you.

"Score," Matteo cheers. Sending back a quick ‘I love you too' message for me before tossing the device aside.

He moves to his small wooden side table, rummaging through the top drawer.

"Matteo," Armani scolds, huffing at him.

"Dad says edibles are a go. You've been overruled."

"One," Armani relents. "You can give her one, and you can't have any while you're taking care of her."

"Am I some kind of amateur to you?" Matteo asks, clearly offended. "I'm not going to get high with her. I'm giving her medicine."

"Medicine that will make her high," Armani points out.

"That's the whole medicine part," Matteo argues, snorting. "You can't cure a bruise, but you can make it so you can't feel it anymore."

"If it really worries you, I don't have to have one," I tell Armani, genuinely meaning it. I know what being anxious is like, and if my having an edible while we're here really freaks him out, I won't.

"Nooo," Matteo groans. "Don't feed his need to control everything."

"It's fine," Armani grunts, surprising the shit out of Matteo. He looks straight up gobsmacked at our brother.

"Jade, quick, open your mouth and take this before he changes his mind," he urges, putting a blue gelatin bear to my lips. "I'll check that he hasn't been replaced with an alien impersonation after."

"How—"

The taste of blue raspberry invades my mouth before I can get my question out. I roll my eyes at both of my brothers before chewing and swallowing the little treat.

"I was going to ask, how do you check if someone is an alien exactly?"

"Easily." Matteo shrugs, approaching Armani. "Come here, and let me try and rip off your face."

"Touch my face, and I'll punch you in yours."

"Well, that's fucking rude."

"And trying to rip off my face wouldn't be?"

"I'm trying to save your life!"

"Can you both shut the fuck up?" Nico complains, slamming his pillow over his head.

"Have you been trying to sleep this whole time?" I ask, wincing. "I'm sorry, I thought you were reading."

Nico's bed is in the furthest corner of the room because he needs more alone time than Matteo or Remo. He likes his space, and I try to give it to him as much as I can.

"Not your fault," he mumbles. "You're not one of the loud ones."

"It's 4 p.m. you shouldn't be sleeping anyway," Matteo gripes. "Quit being fucking boring and do something with us."

"Dinner is in an hour," Nico returns, ignoring Matteo's request. "Did you think about that before you gave her weed?"

Oops.

"It's okay," I chime before anyone can panic. "It just means I'll be able to eat more."

Matteo cackles, tossing his head back. "Oh, this is going to be great."

Dinner is not great.

Not because of a bad high or anything, but because I didn't think about the fact that Ivan would see me high. My poor best friend has been watching me with worried eyes since we got here.

I understand his concern. I'm openly giggly, squinty, and eating without as much control as I typically do. While I feel great, I also feel like a bad friend. That is, until I see an opportunity to right my mistake.

"I'm getting chocolate cake," I announce to our table, standing up. Matteo moves to get up too, but I shake my head at him. "Colton is over there, I'll be fine. Sit, I'll grab you a piece too."

"I don't know," he contemplates, looking around.

"It's literally ten feet away," I remind him. "I'm perfectly okay."

Even if he's reluctant about it, he nods and retakes his seat.

Thankfully this little debate doesn't go on long enough for Colton to move places because he's exactly who I need to see. I glide right up to him, walking confidently so that I don't wobble.

"Hi," I greet, grabbing an empty plate.

The sound of my voice grabs his attention, and he half turns to greet me.

"Hi, Jad—Whoa, you're stoned."

"I am," I agree, smiling like a goon. "I need your help."

Immediately he straightens up. "Did somebody drug you?"

"Oh lord, no," I rush out. "Sorry, sorry, no. Matteo gave it to me. It was just a gummy. I've had them before, and my hands are sore from training."

He immediately relaxes. "So, what do you need help with? Getting cake?"

"Well, actually, yes," I answer quickly. "Two chocolate, please, one regular piece and one big ass one for Matteo, if you don't mind."

Colton takes my plate and starts to slice into the double chocolate dessert.

"But also," I say, keeping my voice low. "Would you mind telling Ivan that I'm okay and explain the gummy? I think he can tell that I took something, and he doesn't know what so he's worried."

"Ahh," he hums. "More of your dirty work, hm?"

I flush, lifting a shoulder. "If you don't mind."

Chuckling, Colton hands me back my plate now full of cake. "I'll tell him for you, littlest Moretti."

"Thank youuu," I cheer, smiling big.

"Don't mention it," he replies, nodding back to my table. "Go on back now before Armani gets the wrong idea."

A great piece of advice because when I turn around, he's looking right at us.

He doesn't exactly look mad, but he certainly doesn't look pleased. Seems rude not to trust someone who's obviously your friend with your sister, but what do I know? I don't exactly have the most experience with friends.

"What did Colton want?" Armani asks before I can even sit back down.

I'm so tempted to say something sarcastic, like pretending he was asking for my hand in marriage or something. But even high, I know that's a horrible idea.

I blink at him. "He helped me cut my cake."

He arches a doubtful brow. "You spoke more than that."

"He could tell I was high," I mention, lifting a shoulder. "He wanted to make sure I didn't get drugged or need help."

Armani's posture relaxes, and he nods. "Colton is good like that."

"He seems like a good friend," I comment, watching as Matteo starts digging into the plate of cake. "How come you guys don't hang out more?"

Matteo chuckles around a mouthful of cake. "Daddy Levi hates Armani."

"Colton's dad?" I ask, my head swaying back with surprise. "What'd you do to make him hate you?"

"It's—"

The words die on his lips, whatever explanation he's going to offer is gone as something crashes on the other side of the cafeteria. There's a huge breakout of sounds. Gasps, curses, chairs loudly scuffing against the ground, and, oh shit, fighting.

With tipped-over chairs, a mess of silverware and plates around the two bodies, and a crowd beginning to form, this doesn't look good. My stomach drops as I realize who is brawling.

I blink rapidly, not believing my eyes. Ivan is kicking the shit out of some guy. Like fully beating this man into the ground, and no one is stopping him. He's smaller than him, more lean, and obviously the shorter of the two, but it's not even a disadvantage from what I can see. Ivan seems to know exactly how to use his size and capabilities. It doesn't even look like he's been hit in return.

And Colton isn't near him anymore. In fact, he's heading toward our table, looking at the fight over his shoulder but still moving forward. My brothers all stand, their guards going up like impenetrable shields. I stand up, too, nervously reaching for and gripping Matteo's hand for support.

My mind is racing, and I have no idea how to act.

The need to check on Ivan is strong, but Colton looks me sternly in the eye, and I know he's reminding me that I can't.

We slowly migrate closer to the scene, the sound of punches snapping through the air with a sickening crunch. Matteo uses his body to shield mine, keeping me tucked behind him. I'm barely able to squeeze my gaze around his arms to watch.

The cafeteria has officially become a biohazard. Blood from the man on the ground is splattered around him, even speckling Ivan's face and fists. It looks like something out of a horror movie, like a murder scene.

My nervous stomach flips, churning with nausea. I don't think that large amounts of blood will ever not make me feel ill. Too many memories.

Just when I think it's over, Ivan swings his leg back, kicking the man in the gut one last time. I swear it sounds like bones cracking, the noise harsh enough to make me flinch. Matteo tightens his hand on mine, reminding me that he's here and I'm safe.

"You're fucking dead," the guy wheezes, crimson staining his teeth. "You broke the rules." He coughs. "Russian piece of?—"

"Report me to the Lord then," Ivan challenges, his voice dark and laced with a cold threat. "And I'll make sure to tell him exactly why you got your ass fucking handed to you. You want him to know what you said? If he knows, her dad finds out, and then we'll see who's really fucking dead."

"What did he say?" Armani asks his friend. "Did you hear it?"

"He said something about Jade being high and vulnerable," Colton reports quietly, and I gulp. "You can assume the rest."

"He beat him up for Jade?" Matteo questions seriously, his chest puffing up. "Why does he care about my little sister?"

"I don't think it was about Jade specifically," Colton lies. "Pretty sure it was the principle of it. You know the rumors about his sister."

No, I don't.

"Fuck, that's right," Matteo says, looking visibly nauseous.

I don't have to know the rumors to know the implication. Something happened to Dmitri and Ivan's little sister, and it was something horrible.

"Good for him, that creep deserves to fucking drown," Remo mutters.

"Actually, why tell her dad when she's got four brothers right here," Ivan suggests, staring down at the man at his feet like he's nothing.

"What a good idea," Armani calls out, stepping through the crowd.

A hush to the whispering and discussion around us transcends. People watch Armani with eager, bloodthirsty eyes. They want him to destroy this guy further, but I really hope that he doesn't. We have to tone this down before it gets even more out of control. I can't deal with Ivan or my brother getting themselves into trouble that they can't come back from. It would be too much.

More than that, I wish I could go up there and give my best friend a hug. He just absolutely demolished someone in a fight because of a slimy comment. He could have let that go, but he didn't. He defended me without a second thought.

"Stay down," Armani warns as the guy tries to get to his feet. My brother doesn't have to lay hands on him, the demand works well enough.

"I hear you like vulnerable girls," he sneers, making his disdain evident. "How does it feel to be the most vulnerable person in the room now?"

"I didn't say shit—" the guy tries to argue.

"A weak motherfucker and a liar at that," Armani tsks, shaking his head while he circles the man like a wolf with its prey. "How sad for you."

From the corner of my eye, I watch as Ivan ducks out of the cafeteria, not looking back. I desperately want to chase after him to make sure he's okay, but I can't. Dmitri will take care of him, surely. Besides, there's hardly a scratch on him.

"Just hit me and get it over with," he snaps, gritting his teeth.

Armani laughs. "Oh, I'm not going to hit you. Running your mouth about my little sister earns you way more than a quick beating. No, I'm going to give you a choice."

The guy groans, clutching his side in pain. "I don't give a fuck about your sister or your stupid fucking games. Piss off."

"Option one," Armani continues, ignoring the man's request. "You take the emergency boat home tonight, and I'll give you a head start until the semester ends, but after that, I'm coming for you."

Oh god, this is a horrible time to be high.

"Fuck you," he spits.

"I wasn't fucking done," Armani grits out. I know he wants to hit him, but he can't be seen beating up a student. Let alone one who's already on the ground, even if he's a dirtbag who deserves it.

"You can go home tonight with your head start, or I can slit your throat from ear to ear as soon as we leave the dock at the end of the semester. Your choice."

There's a long pause before the bleeding guy relents.

"Fine."

"Good choice," Armani comments. "We'll be watching you."

Everything rushes by quickly after that. Matteo uses our hands being locked together to get me out. We leave the building like it's on fire while the rest of our siblings and Colton follow more slowly behind.

"What about my cake?" I protest, sad to have left it behind.

"I'll get you more later," Matteo assures me.

"Can we slow down?" I whine.

"No," he answers, and before I can complain about falling over my feet, he scoops me up and puts me over his shoulder.

I yelp, immediately feeling dizzy from the motion.

"Cover her skirt," Armani shouts from behind us.

"Already doing it," Matteo drawls.

He's keeping my skirt down with his forearm, using his elbow to lock me in place safely.

"I feel like being carried is unnecessary," I report, using my newfound position to my advantage by pinching his hips.

Matteo doesn't even flinch.

"I'll put you down when we get to the room."

I let out a long sigh but just go with it. It's not a long walk, and with as fast as we're moving, there's no point in arguing. We'll already be where we're going before this stubborn boy relents.

It takes a few seconds for me to regain my bearings once I'm put back on my feet. So much so that I flop onto the couch instead of trying to hold on to my balance.

Once we're all inside and the door is shut, we collectively breathe.

"Well, that was one crazy-ass meal," Matteo says, still seemingly in disbelief. "That Russian kid seriously did a number on him. Didn't expect him to be able to pound his face in with that size."

Honestly, me either. And I knew Ivan has been extremely well trained.

"He's not much smaller than Nico," Remo points out. "And we all know what he can do."

I don't really know, but I also don't think I want to see it for myself. I am fully fine with taking their word for it.

"You good, Jade?" Colton asks, looking cautious.

"All good," I assure him. "Just a bit dizzy from being transported like an oversized bag of flour. Also bummed that my cake was left behind."

The cowboy laughs. "There's plenty more; I'm sure Matteo will make good on his promise to replace it."

He better.

My buzz is dwindling because of all the stress, and a good bit of chocolate will help make up for it, I think.

"Now," Armani says, straightening his shirt cuffs. "Before I go, make sure that the dead man walking—or rather, limping—is getting on the boat. What did we learn today, kids?"

"No drugs before dinner," Matteo and I say in unison.

What a strange life lesson to learn.