Chapter 38 Roran
Roran
Iwipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, then step back to throw another punch at the bag.
Chris wasn’t kidding when she said, “Let’s go blow off some steam.” She brought me back to the training basement floor, the same one Malec first took me to when I arrived. But now, it feels completely different.
Now, I’m allowed—no, encouraged—to imagine my father’s face on this red punching bag and hit it like my breath depends on seeing him gone.
Maybe it does.
It’s been a while since I felt this fresh and this exhausted at the same time. Like someone finally lifted a rock off my chest. But every time I dare to take a full breath and let go, Diana’s face flashes through my mind again, and I throw another punch. Harder.
“I’m not sure if you love this punching bag or hate it at this point,” Chris calls out, coming around the other side of the bag just as I throw another punch and follow it with a side kick—exactly like I saw her doing earlier.
The bag swings into her, but she catches it with both hands, steady as a rock. Not even a flinch.
It’s clear she was trained right alongside the men.
“Sorry,” I pant, catching my breath. “I just… have too much in my head. I’ve never tried getting it out like this, but I think… it’s working.”
And for a second, I smile.
Not a fake one.
A real, genuine smile. Again.
What is happening to me here?
“We all have our shit,” Chris shrugs. “But your sister is going to be fine. Now that you’re gone, they’ll need her alive to seal the marriage with Miami instead.”
I gasp, my eyes flying wide.
“How do you know?” I rip the wraps off my hands, stepping closer. “Did you hear something?”
She shakes her head, chuckling nervously.
“For these marriages, you have to marry blood with blood. They won’t just grab anyone. It’s not only your family, ours too. I’m just… putting the puzzle together.”
I blink, confused. She didn’t answer my real question.
“No, I mean—how do you know about Ivan and everything else? You’re—” I stop, biting my tongue. My gaze drops to the floor.
“I’m what?”
“You’re… a woman,” I mumble, my voice so small it embarrasses even me.
Then I hear it. A choked laugh—followed by another, louder one. Full, bright laughter filling the entire basement.
Not just from Chris, but from Kayla too. She almost chokes on her water on the bench.
My brows knit together, and I plant my hands on my hips. “Don’t laugh! I was just asking!”
“I’m sorry—” Chris raises her hands, still laughing. “I’m sorry, but you sound like you crawled out of another century. ‘You’re a woman’? Most of the women in our family run everything. The men? They’re mostly for show,” she snorts.
She points at Kayla. “That girl over there? In a few years, she’s going to run… well, a lot. Me? I work and train with my parents to help Kayla in that future.”
I don’t realize how wide my eyes are until Kayla bursts out laughing again and throws a playful jab at me. I blink a few times, gathering myself, then dare to ask:
“What about Maleciandro? Isn’t he supposed to take over the Capo role?”
Chris rubs her chin, hesitating. “Malec is… a special case.”
I tilt my head, spiraling my finger by my temple, mouthing, Crazy? Special case?
I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe he really isn’t sane. No one in this world can stay sane and ‘work’ in this field.
Kayla spits out her water, coughing, while Chris bites her tongue so hard she nearly draws blood, her eyes pleading with me for understanding.
Did I say something wrong again? I raise an eyebrow at them.
“Well… you can say that,” Kayla finally manages, standing up from the bench and walking toward us. A white towel rests on her shoulder.
In her oversized T-shirt and loose training pants, she reminds me of Diana again. Another sharp pinch stabs my chest.
I wish Diana could have grown up in a place where women could lead and laugh freely, not be molded to a man’s will.
“Now, as I mentioned before—” Kayla starts, then shoots a glare at Chris, a silent warning not to interrupt. “—I might have a way to help. But you must promise not to ask questions, and you have to keep completely quiet about it. Understood?”
Her gaze locks on me, her brows pulled together, her expression dead serious. No games.
“What do you mean?”
I take a step toward her, but Chris’s hand clamps around my arm, firm.
“Kayla, I know you mean well,” she starts, her voice suddenly sharp, all traces of earlier humor gone. “But you can’t make that decision on your own. You need to talk to your mother first.”
Kayla clenches her fists—and for a split second, I swear I see Maleciandro mirrored in her face.
“You can’t—”
“Kayla!” Chris snaps, making both of us flinch.
“You won’t put everyone at risk just because you feel a sudden urge to play the righteous savior.”
Ouch. That cut colder than ice.
But Kayla glares right back at her. For a second, I think her eyes actually glow before she closes them and takes a slow, shaky breath.
“I’m sorry,” Chris finally lets go of my arm, her voice softening.
I’m not sure who she’s apologizing to—me or Kayla—but I don’t get the chance to ask before she keeps going.
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” she says. “But you know this is too dangerous.”
I glance between them, lost. “What’s too dangerous? I honestly can’t keep up. Can you help me find Diana or not?”
“Yes,” Chris answers quickly, her eyes still locked on Kayla. “Our parents are on it. We’ll find her, even if she’s hidden in the darkest, deepest dungeon. You have my word.”
The tension between them crackles so thick I regret opening my mouth at all.
Wait.
Dungeon…
My thoughts spiral.
The client list at Konfetki. My father’s most important VIP—the one who loves playing with the girls in dungeons sometimes. He knows about The Red Dock. He manages most of my father’s shipments to Europe, that’s how he gets cheapest services.
He’ll know where it is.
My father rarely steps into the private rooms these days—especially not now when he’s busy with bigger problems—Ivan’s lost wife prize problems.
My heart thunders.
“It’s Thursday, right?”
I snap my head toward Chris, cutting her off mid-argument with Kayla.
She nods, her eyebrow arching in confusion.
“I don’t know what Kayla had in mind to help, but I think I know how to find The Red Dock’s exact location faster. Vlad is a good lead, but he isn’t always near my father—he’s slippery. It’ll take longer.”
Chris’s eyes sharpen, worry cutting through her expression. Kayla, though? A smirk starts curling across her face when she’s meeting mine.
“I shouldn’t—”
“Roran,” Kayla steps closer, her voice lower, warmer. “Let us help.”
I suck in a breath, my mind racing.
“How are you at dancing?”