Page 31 of Born into Mayhem
“Huh?” I look up at my brother, who’s looking down at me and pointing at my lip. I’d forgotten to look in a mirror to check and see how bad it was, but it must’ve left a mark if Sasha’s immediately calling me out on it.
“Was that something you wanted?” he asks again.
“How do you know he didn’t just get the upper hand while training?” I ask.
My brother raises a brow at me, and it’s starting to feel a lot like déjà vu. I’m surrounded by tall men who want to glower at me.
Sasha calmly explains. “You didn’t have training, and even if you did an impromptu session, Dario never leaves marks on you.”
He’s right. I’ve gotten bruises from training, there’s no way to avoid it, but Dario has never once hurt me, even though there have been plenty of opportunities, especially when I first started learning with him. I’ve never shown him the same courtesy, and I ignore the quick flash of guilt I feel at that realization.
“Tell me,” Sasha says, reminding me that I haven’t answered him. “I don’t need details, just a simple yes or no.”
“Yes,” I say, refusing to look him in the eye while I say it. “It was consensual.”
Satisfied, he hands me my helmet and says, “It’d probably be best to tell Dad you hurt yourself during training.”
I nod my agreement while he says, “Come on, I’ll take you back to my place so you can change and get ready. We’re meeting everyone at Nat’s.”
Without a word, I get on the back of his bike, and when we reach his place, I wait while he makes sure Chort isn’t in an attacking kind of mood. I get the all clear and walk in, kneeling down so he can come and smell me. His pretty brown eyes look me over before he starts sniffing around. He’s especially curious about all the dried blood on my shirt, but after he’s satisfied his curiosity, he huffs out a breath and then walks off to chew on one of his bones.
“How’s the arm?” Sasha asks.
“It’s fine. I’ll make sure to keep it covered so no one else sees it.” I hesitate before saying, “About last night,” but he quickly cuts off my words with a shake of his head.
“Dario made it very clear that I could’ve handled it better, and he’sright. I shouldn’t have just thrown you into the deep end like that. It wasn’t fair.”
“It’s my fault. I should’ve been able to do it.”
He thinks for a second, trying to understand what I might be feeling and what the acceptable response should be.
“Stop trying to think of what you should be telling me. I don’t like it when you do that. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”
He gives me a small grin. “Why have you never been afraid of me?”
“You’re my brother,” I say with a shrug. “If you wanted me dead, you could’ve killed me when I was a baby. You never did, so I figured that meant you wanted me around.”
He surprises me by laughing. “See? This is why I handed you Greg on a platter. You say shit like that and it makes me think you’re as fucked up as I am, but you’re not, Mia. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a little fucked in the head, but not like me. You hesitated with Greg, like any normal human being would have, and that’s fine. It doesn’t mean you failed, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t cut out for the Bratva. It just means you’re human, little witch.” He grins and adds, “And somewhat normal.”
“Thanks,” I say, but I still can’t shake the nagging feeling that I failed. Thanks to the private school we went to, I learned pretty quickly to not give a fuck about what others thought about me. I never fit in. I was never interested in the same shit the other girls were interested in, and I didn’t care that they all thought I was crazy and that my family was, too, but I do care about Sasha’s opinion of me, and it would cut me worse than any blade ever could if I felt like he was disappointed in me.
As if to put my fears to rest, he ruffles my hair as he walks by and hands me my knife, the one I’d left in Greg’s chest. Sasha’s already cleaned the blood off for me, and when I thank him, he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll work you up to killing, little witch. We just need to get you used to it.”
I hold the knife, remembering exactly how it had felt when he’d put his hands over mine and slammed the blade deep into Greg’s chest. I pushaside the thought, not because it bothers me on a deep moral level, but more that it does make me feel a bit queasy with nothing on my stomach but Dario’s expertly made espresso. I’d left my bagel on his counter when he’d distracted me with other things, and when my stomach growls, Sasha says, “I’ll get you some breakfast while you get cleaned up.”
Since I sleep over here so much, I’d brought over a few sets of clothes and shoved them inside one of the ottomans. Grabbing a clean hoodie, I head for the bathroom and do a quick change. When I see the mark Dario left on my lip, I hiss out a curse and send him a quick text.
ME:
Did you have to bite me in such an obvious spot? Everyone is going to see this!
DARIO:
I’ll bite you somewhere hidden next time.
ME:
You are a cocky bastard, you know that?
