Chapter 6
Mina
Seventeen years old
Sweat drips down my temple as I slam my fist into Rolo’s gut, again and again, with all my might.
“You gotta do better than that,” he taunts, laughing as if it were a damn game to him.
“Again,” Remus barks from behind me. “Take that smirk off Rolo’s face and knock him to the ground.”
“Don’t you think I’m trying?” I blurt out, throwing punch after punch on Rolo’s midriff.
“Ooooh, that tickles,” Rolo continues to goad.
“I’m getting really tired of your witty remarks, Rolo,” I grumble in annoyance.
“Then do something about it!” Remus chimes in, pissed. “And for God’s sake, don’t be afraid to use your goddamn feet!”
“Hey, no helping!” Rolo protests.
Having nothing to lose, I take my cousin’s advice and snap my leg up to drive my foot straight into Rolo’s chest.
“Humph,” he grunts, staggering back a step.
I breathe heavily, bending down with my hands resting on my thighs as I take a moment to catch my breath. Rolo seems to appreciate the breather, but Remus isn’t having it.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snaps.
“What does it look like?” I glare at him, wiping sweat from my brow. “I’m giving Rolo a minute.”
Rolo stands in front of me, breathing heavy, looking finally winded. Pride swells in my chest that I’m the one who got him that way, but Remus’s harsh voice suddenly interrupts my fleeting moment of satisfaction.
“Oh, yeah? You think your enemies will give you a time-out?” His tone is razor-sharp. “Cause they bloody won’t. Now hit the fucker.”
“Next time, you’re the punching bag,” Rolo mutters, looking less than amused now.
“Fucking grow a pair and attack her already!” Remus yells at his twin.
Rolo cracks his knuckles and grins at me, all teeth and menace. “Sorry, cousin. Looks like I’ll have to take off the kiddie gloves.”
Shit.
If this was him going easy on me, I’m in trouble now.
Rolo lunges at me so fast that I barely dodge him in time.
“Good!” Remus shouts. “Make him work for it!”
Rolo snarls and swings again, but this time, I don’t just leap back—I strike. My foot whips into his side, the impact sending him stumbling.
“Argh!” He grips his ribs, scowling. “Her kicks sting like a motherfucker.”
Good to know.
I double down, using my legs to my advantage, kicking him every chance I get. He tries to grab me, but I slip past his grip and throw another blow, landing even harder than before. Every muscle in my body screams, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
“Harder!” Remus pushes. “Faster!”
I don’t hold back. I put all my strength into each strike, Rolo’s smug grin no longer in sight.
“Enough,” Remus finally calls it. “You did good today,” he says after tossing me a bottle of electrolytes.
His voice carries something I’m not accustomed to hearing from him. It oddly sounds a lot like approval.
“Remus is right. You’re getting better. That last kick really fucked me up. I think you might have broken a rib or something.” Rolo smirks lazily as if proud of the injury I caused.
And in a way, I am.
Rolo is twice my size and just as strong.
If I was able to do any bodily harm to him, I’m calling it a win.
“I hope you’re right. I only have a few more months before—”
“You’ll be ready before then,” Remus affirms. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“We both will,” Rolo adds, hugging his bruised midriff.
I give them both a thankful smile, knowing I couldn’t have accomplished half of what I just did in the ring without their help.
I’ve relentlessly trained with the twins every chance I got for the past year, still finding time to shadow my father during deals, learning the intricacies of the business inside and out.
And I’ve done all that, without anyone being none the wiser.
I’m confident that I’ll be fully prepared by the time my eighteenth birthday arrives.
But being ready doesn’t mean being accepted.
I know that I’ll only get one shot to prove my worth.
To prove that a Crane belongs at the helm of The Firm—now and always.
“Stop thinking about it,” Remus says, reading my thoughts. “We still have four months. More than enough.”
I give him a small smile, praying that he’s right.
“Now, grab a knife. We’re not done with you yet.”
Two grueling hours later, I collapse face-down on my bed, sore yet satisfied. Today’s training session went better than expected. If I keep up this pace, I’ll be unstoppable when the time comes.
After a session with the twins, I’d usually spend the rest of the day sprawled out with ice packs on my aching limbs and muscles, mindlessly watching TV.
But not today.
Jude is home today.
Leaving him earlier had been the last thing I wanted to do, but there was no way I could tell the twins I was skipping training just to be with Jude.
Remus already distrusts Jude.
And Rolo… well, who the hell knows what’s going on in that thick head of his?
When I slipped out of Jude’s room this afternoon, I’d been relieved that he’d been too out of it even to see me leaving, much less notice my absence.
But I know better than to think it’s just mere exhaustion that’s keeping him in bed—grief and depression weigh just as heavily on him.
I know today isn’t just any other day for him.
And I refuse to let him go through it alone.
After a quick shower, I make my way to the west wing of my house so I can carefully sneak back into his room. Relief washes over me when I find him still sound asleep.
Quietly, I take off my trainers and slide under the covers.
The moment my body meets his, Jude stirs, instinctively pulling me closer. His arm drapes over my stomach, his grip firm but familiar. My breath hitches as his face nestles into the crook of my neck, warmth spreading across my skin like wildfire.
Just as I’m close to steadying my rapid heartbeat, Jude shifts yet again, his leg slipping over mine, his body reacting in a way that sends my pulse racing.
And just like that, the air in the room turns electric when I feel his bulging cock pressed up against my thigh.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
I have to bite down a moan when his palm aimlessly slithers up my tank top, his thumb caressing the softness of my belly.
Yep, definitely a bad idea.
I’m about to combust.
Not that Jude is aware of the torment he’s inflicting on me.
He’s still off in la la land while I’m being held hostage in the worst form of torture.
My body tingles all over with just his breath on my neck, his lips so close to my skin that all I have to do is lean in for him to end me with his kiss.
I should leave.
I should get out of this bed and leave him be.
But my body refuses to move an inch, too enticed by the way his hard body molds itself onto mine.
I shut my eyes in utter embarrassment at how quickly my panties start to dampen when Jude’s fingers dig into my tender flesh.
Oh, bloody hell. This is torture.
Unable to stop myself, I squirm under his touch, needing his hand to explore the rest of my body.
Maybe if I …
Before I can second guess myself, I softly cover his hand with mine and ever so slowly direct it down—to where I feel ache the most. I’m not brave enough to shove his hand into my panties, but leaving it over my mound is enough to make my eyes roll back in their sockets.
This is wrong.
This is so wrong.
And yet, I can’t stop myself.
I wiggle a little more, coaxing his hand to run up and down my soaked slit.
If he just added a little pressure … if I could just feel his skin on mine.
I bite down on my knuckles, muffling the low moan that comes out when his thumb unintentionally brushes against my clit. My breathing turns even more erratic when his lips graze the slope of my neck.
I’m beyond hot and flustered, desperate for him to wake up and ravish me already.
However, Jude is trapped in his own mind, completely unaware of the liberties I’m taking.
What am I doing?
He doesn’t want this.
He never asked for this.
If the roles were reversed, I’d be horrified if he took advantage of me when I was at my most vulnerable.
It’s official.
I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
The instant I start to think rationally, I stop being a slave to my lust-filled libido and slowly pull Jude’s hand away from my pussy and nestle it back onto my belly—where it’s safe. Where it won’t be accused of assault.
I just lay there, unaware of the time that went by, staring at the ceiling, riddled with an enormous amount of shame and guilt.
Unable to stand my accusing, inner thoughts any longer, I decide the best thing to do is slip out of his bed the same way I slipped in.
But just as I try to move away, Jude holds me tighter to his side.
“Don’t go,” he whispers, my eyes widening in alarm.
“I… I… didn’t mean to wake you,” I stammer.
“You didn’t.”
I swallow hard, wondering how long he’s been awake.
Too afraid to speak, I remain silent, our synchronized breathing being the only audible sound in the room.
“You’re not in your uniform,” he murmurs, tugging at the hem of my tank top.
I shake my head, unsure how to respond.
“Did you even go to school today?”
Another shake.
His brows pull together. “I hope you didn’t ditch because of me.”
“You needed me,” I confess, though guilt tugs at me for leaving him alone those few hours to train.
Jude lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. I find myself unraveling under the blend of green, brown, and soft golden hues that sparkle in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice quiet but powerful enough to steal my breath.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other, the silence stretching between us like something sacred.
I clear my throat, breaking the spell. “You must be hungry. You haven’t eaten all day. Do you want me to bring you something?”
He shakes his head before resting it on the pillow beside me.
“No. I’d rather just stay like this a little longer.”
I shift to face him, my hand sliding beneath the pillow as I take in how he looks—fragile and vulnerable, the weight of everything he’s carrying right there in his eyes.
“It will get better, you know?” I offer gently. “It won’t always be like this.”
“Do I look that weak?” He lets out a humorless scoff.
I place my palm tenderly against his cheek.
“Stop that,” I order. “It’s okay to feel bad about taking a life. You’d be a monster if you felt nothing at all.”
“But that’s just it,” he murmurs, eyes darkening. “ Made men aren’t supposed to feel. It’s in their very job description. Feelings only lead to weakness. And weakness has no place in the life of a mafioso. ”
“Says who?”
“Everyone.” His exhale is slow, tired.
“Well, you’re not everyone. You’re Jude Romano. You’re… different.”
A dry laugh escapes him. “Different doesn’t survive in this world.”
“Maybe. But having a heart won’t make you a bad mafioso either. In fact, it just might make you better.”
His gaze flickers at me with something unreadable, and it takes everything in me to keep my expression calm and collected.
“How do you figure?” he asks.
“For starters, you won’t shoot first and ask questions later because you actually understand the worth of a human life. That alone sets you apart from the rest.”
He studies me for a beat before a ghost of a smile starts forming on his lips.
“Is this your way of giving me a pep talk?”
“No.” I hold his gaze. “It’s my way of reminding you who you are. No one said you have to be heartless to do this job.”
“No… but it does help.”
“Maybe.” I sigh. “But you know what also helps? Having people who have your back.”
“Like you?” he counters, searching my eyes again.
I nod with an assuring smile and say, “Of course, like me. I’ll always have your back. Come what may.”
His expression softens at my remark, and he asks, “Because we’re friends?”
‘No. Because I love you.’
“Yes,” I say instead. “Because we’re friends.”
Jude watches me carefully before the corner of his lips lifts into the smallest, most devastating smile.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
“For what?”
“For being my friend. I don’t know how I would’ve coped otherwise.”
“You would’ve been fine,” I tease lightly, but he shakes his head.
“Maybe. But it wouldn’t be the same. My life… it’s better with you in it.”
A warmth spreads through me, leaving no room for doubt.
“Well,” I whisper, my lips curving, “that makes two of us.”
My life is definitely better now that Jude is in it.
My love-sick heart, however, might disagree.