Page 59 of Paper Thin Love

I chuckle coldly.“No problem. I’ll show her the same respect you’ve shown me.” I hang up, my hand trembling with barely suppressed rage. The need to kill something courses through me, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. My grip on the crutch tightens until my knuckles are white, a dark, violent energy swirling inside me, begging for release. Every muscle in my body tenses, craving the satisfaction of unleashing this fury on anything—or anyone—in my path.

By the time I make it to the private room Dante and Cillian have, I’m seething, and they can tell. I want to lash out like a child, throw a tantrum, and use my crutch to smash the glass wall that gives everyone a view of us inside.

“What’s the matter?” Dante asks, coming closer.

“My father,” I hiss through my clenched teeth. I pushed my father’s buttons, and then, at that moment, I felt like I came out the victor. However, I see my failures now. I showed my dad nothing more than how much of a petulant child I was. Had I not lost my temper, I would have been able to poke around and see where Titan and Damian were.

I close my eyes and hang my head.“Fuck,” I whisper angrily, feeling the weight of the battle I just lost. The cast feels like it’s encasing my flesh in a tight vice grip. I claw my hands against it, feeling the texture of the fabric. I wish that I could just rip it off.

“You’re going to be fine. Just stay calm,” Cillian offers.

“I feel like I’m gonna explode.” I ball my fist and hit my knuckles against my cast.

“Good,” Cillian chuckles,“you’ll need that energy for training.”

I finally open my eyes and look over my shoulder at the wall of windows, knowing that anyone who walks by can see inside. Dante, who I’m starting to think has the power of mind reading, walks to the wall and hits the switch, turning the glass into an opaque screen so no one can see inside.

It’s hard to swallow, and I know I should thank him, but instead, I stay silent, looking down at my leg.

“You’re not weak,” Dante declares as he tapes off the wrap he applied to his knuckles.

“I never said I was,” It feels like a lie.

Dante tosses me the bandage wrap.“Wrap your knuckles well.”

“You can fight just fine with one leg,” Cillian adds as he grabs his shirt and peels it off. As if I needed to see more of his muscles.“It’s all about leverage, knowing the weakness and next move of your opponent. Dante and I focus on hand-to-hand combat. We use methods from boxing, Lerdrit, Krav Maga, Jiu-Jitsu, and what I think is going to be most vital for you, Jeet Kune Do; it teaches simplicity, directness, and freedom—exactly what you need with one leg down.”

I nod. It’s not my first time fighting. My dad made me take classes since I was a kid, which makes me wonder how long he has been planning on sacrificing me to The Cleansing. I walk to the corner and kick off my shoes, then begin to wrap my hands.

“An enemy will probably go for one of two choices,” Dante begins as he walks to a large black bag that could fit a body.“When you fight in The Cleansing, your leg won’t be broken anymore, but it’s still going to be the weakest part. One wrong kick or fall could easily re-break your leg. So if they’re smart and lazy, they’ll attack that leg first. But if they want to make you suffer, they’ll try to break your good leg first and then go for the weakest link.” The sound of him unzipping that bag is like the safety of a gun being clicked off.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, confused when I see him pull out a black leg brace.

“You’re one of us now. We’re brothers, we’re family, and we’re not going to let our parents tear us apart. In order for Cillian or me to understand what it’s like to fight like you, we have to be able to feel how you move. So we’ll take turns today. I’m going to wear this leg brace so I can understand how you move, and Cillian will act as our opponent. We’ll start two against one, and I’m gonna be honest: today, Cillian is gonna take it easy on you. I don’t think you’re used to moving too hastily with that huge fucking cast on.” Dante sits down and begins to strap on the leg brace. When he tries to stand, he struggles at first, then laughs to himself.“I can see why you think you’re fucked. At least you can sleep at night knowing you won’t have to fight with the cast on. But your leg won’t be used to your full weight, so you still need to be cautious.”

I swallow down the emotions, trying to escape from my throat. It’s this small gesture that has me trusting them. When a man willingly walks in your shoes, it affects you on a primal level. It’s something only Titan or Damian would do—and I would for them.

Just like that, I know I’m not alone. I have two more brothers to add to my fucked up family.

For the next hour, we fight awkwardly. Dante’s much better than I am since the brace is lighter and slightly less restrictive than the cast. Cillian is an anomaly; he’s so freaking annoying because he should be slow, but he moves as fast as a speed skater gracefully circling the rink. By the time we finish, muscles I haven’t even used before are starting to ache. We call it a night, grabbing our stuff and flipping the switch to turn the glass back to transparency before heading to the locker room to shower and then eat dinner.

As I trudge out of the training room, drained and weary, my attention is drawn to the dance studio. There, beneath the bright lights, is Mila, with her brown hair pulled into a tight bun, spinning and being lifted into the air with an ethereal grace. Her ballet class is still in full swing. Even through the glass doors and mirrors, I can hear the classical music blaring as she gracefully turns and dances to it.

I never thought ballet could be attractive, but I find myself walking closer to their private room. Mila’s effortless. She makes it look as easy as it was for me to capture her on the sketchpad. She pushes up on her pointe shoes, making her short stature somehow appear taller, and she gracefully lifts her leg into a position that has my cock awakening. She dips her back in an arch so curved that I expect her to falter, but her balance is impeccable. My mind takes over as it imagines her in a dozen sexual positions.

That’s when I notice it’s not her balance alone but the hands around her hips that begin to spin her.

Jared’s hands.

He lifts her, but it’s not just a simple lift. She kicks her right leg up, practically doing a full split down his torso, her body arching with a flexibility that seems almost impossible. Rage grows inside me, knowing that her sex is pressed against him and not me.

He’s holding her so tightly, spinning around with her in his arms, their movements synchronized to perfection. Every turn, every lift, every step is a testament to their connection. Mila’s body moves fluidly, her legs extend, her arms reaching out as if she’s trying to touch the very air particles around them. Her face, a mask of concentration and passion, glows under the studio lights.

She looks like a dark little angel luring me into her broken soul.

I’m coming.

How could I not after seeing Mila dance? There is no way I can not heed that call. A man would go to war to see her spin on her pointe shoes; a king would lay down his crown at her feet if only she would glide across the stage one more time.

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