Page 2 of Hush 3: Hidden Family

“Have you ever thought that it’s safer for you not to be in touch with me?”

“But why? You are my brother. Why wouldn’t it be safe to get to know you?”

He furrows his brows as he looks back at me. He’s silent for a moment and I don’t think he’s going to answer me. My shoulders slump. I envisioned this going totally different.

Without a word, he walks by me, leaving me here lost in my own confusion. I don’t know what to tell Nico and Anna. I know they will be as disappointed as I am.

“Michael, you’re not proving to be smart. You’re going to have to do better than this, mate. I move, you move. Let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder, to my surprise.

I suck in a deep breath and rush after him. I fall in step with him and peek out of the corner of my eye at my brother. Uri wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives it a squeeze.

“It’s nice to see you again, Michael. You were just learning to walk the last time I saw you.”

I chuckle. “Yes, I remember that.”

“You do?”

“I do. We have never forgotten you.”

He snorts. “You might wish someday that you did.”

“Never.”

“We shall see.”

CHAPTER 2

Training

Michael

A year later …

I lie on my back, looking up at the ceiling as I pant for air. I do believe Uri is trying to make me regret the day I found him. There is training and then there is this.

He is kicking my ass unapologetically. This is what I asked for, so I’m going to suck it up and continue. When I learned what my brother does for our uncle Nic, I wanted to learn.

I wanted to be a part of the side of our family I don’t know. I was hurt to know Uri has been connected to our father’s family all this time. My mother made it seem like they didn’t want anything to do with us.

However, listening to Uri speak of our grandfather, who he was with before our uncle Nic, has made me wonder if he was truly any better off than we were. I couldn’t imagine having to live like that. Our grandfather was a monster.

“Get up, Michael. You are a Donati. We don’t quit,” Uri growls at me.

His words are like fuel. I hate that I’ve been raised with the last name Zuko. My father was a Donati, and so am I.

I leap to my feet, ready to keep going. Sweat soaks my hair and the back of my T-shirt. I have never been a quitter, and I don’t intend to start now.

“That’s better, mate. Show me you have some bloody balls,” he taunts.

“You say that as if I haven’t been holding my own,” I say to him in Italian.

“English. You make it too easy to learn the truth about you. English will throw your enemies off,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes and keep moving forward, holding my hands up. Uri continues to come at me hard. I fight back, blocking and countering as fast as I can. I have gotten taller, and we are now nearly evenly matched.

With all the training and conditioning, I have more power and stamina than I did when I came to him at eighteen. What a difference a year can make. We have become closer—at least as close as Uri will allow.

“Stop leaving your right open,” he bites out.

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