Chapter 49 Lev
LEV
“Like this.”
Grasping Serafina’s wrist, I swing it up into an arc, jabbing it just shy of my stomach so the blade doesn’t actually slice. Her arm is pliant, hesitant, and not nearly good enough. She won’t survive fighting like this.
“Unless you can stab him in the heart, your second-best shot would be the stomach. It’ll render him down long enough to push him off you and charge again. Go—do that, like we practiced yesterday.”
With a grunt, she brings her leg between us—much slower than required but with decent form—and jabs her knee into my stomach beside the imaginary injury.
With a potential knife wound there, the additional pressure might do it, depending how much he fights back.
My hands dart for her wrists, but she rolls away and wisely shuffles into a crouch, knife in her hand between us.
“Good.” I rise onto my knees, clutching my fake injury. “Now, attack again.”
She lunges, only pausing when the knife hovers over my heart, her pants slowing alongside the lowering blade. A slow clap fills the area, curtesy of my sister observing from a nearby bench.
“Not bad, but he’ll fight. Even stabbed through the stomach, he’ll be vicious. It won’t keep him down long enough.”
“Ugh!” Serafina drops the knife and plunges to her knees, rolling onto her back. “What made me believe I could do this?”
“You can.” Ana approaches, stopping beside Serafina’s spread limbs. “We need to account for every scenario.”
My head starts calculating percentages and chances—none of them look good. While statistics typically ease me, this time, they’re useless. There is no number that makes Serafina fighting Vitale feel alright.
We’re two weeks into training her how to properly wield a knife, and while it’s second nature to me, my body has felt so on edge, so tense, so tightly wound, like I’m the one who’s about to fight with a trained leader.
In the days following our return from Rome, avoiding Serafina and everything happening was the natural option. But there was one thing worse than facing my own emotions—and that was losing her. My anger, my feelings towards the situation, don’t matter when it’s her life on the line.
Our first day of training involved basic moves, trying to increase her speed should she need to bolt. When she needs to run.
Not having faith in her is terrible, but after the past few days, the statistics aren’t in her favour. And I don’t know what to do about it.
By day two, Anastasia joined us, which I both appreciate and hate. Having Serafina alone helps clear my head of hell. However, Anastasia’s presence is valuable, considering she’s fought men double her size many times.
“Another thing we need to consider,” Ana muses, folding a hand beneath her chin, “is where we’re hiding this weapon. We should try to hide a couple of them on you, just in case. You need to be practicing with two.”
“Two?” Serafina groans. “I barely manage one.”
“Until we know where the two will be hidden, she should master one. She might not be able to reach a second weapon.” Last thing she needs is to be handicapped because we didn’t prepare her the right way.
Serafina lifts her head. “Do I get a say?”
“Nyet,” my sister and I respond simultaneously.
I push to my feet, reaching for her knife to flip it shut. “Let’s go again, but this time, we’ll make it real. Stab me. I’ll fight back. Pretend the knife is open.”
She takes my assistance to get her back onto her feet, tucking stray hairs around her ear. Her shoulders are tight, but my little warrior takes the knife regardless and shifts her feet into position.
“Wait,” my sister calls, rushing between us. “We should start depicting a few different scenarios. After all, we don’t know what the night will look like. He might put her right into the bed or start on the floor. Then there’s the wall… Point is, different positions.”
Every fucking day, I live with the image of Vitale with Serafina. Touching her. Being near her. Breathing on her. Now, to imagine different positions…all because my fucking sister can’t keep her mouth shut.
Ana takes in my clenched jaw and flicks the skin there. “Relax. I meant, this might be a good thing. There will be other opportunities to strike. We don’t know exactly what’ll happen that night; we’re all only guessing.”
“Admit it.” Serafina climbs to her feet and tosses the knife towards Ana, who catches it with one hand.
“There’s zero point in practicing because we don’t know what’s going to happen.
I get it—stab him. Beyond that, there are too many unknowns to account for.
Hell, we don’t even know the room’s layout, and that can change a lot.
If he’ll strip me himself or make me do it. If he’ll—”
“Okay,” I snap, cutting her off. The visions my head constructs are bad enough; no need for her to create other ones.
“She’s right.” My sister taps her lips. “Not to say it’s pointless, but it’s a challenge. As she said, there are too many variables to account for.”
Whose fucking side are you on?
Exhaling loudly, I glare at her. “You used to do this all the fucking time! Can’t tell me you had every interaction perfectly planned.”
My sister isn’t fazed by my shout. “I lure them into a vulnerable position.” Her eyes snap to Serafina, smile slowly expanding. “Maybe that’s it. Take charge that night. Seem interested. Lower his guard.”
“Nyet.”
Both women turn towards me. Anastasia—amused. Serafina—grimacing.
“No. That’s not fuckin’ happening.” My teeth slide together painfully. “It won’t work. If you appear interested, he’ll know something’s up and get suspicious. He’s aware you’re not doing this willingly.”
“What if I do? It’s believable Zeno would train me to embrace this, to be pleased about wedding a man with great influence within the Cosa Nostra.” She gags at her own praise for Vitale. “I’ll play nice at the reception and make it believable.”
Every syllable strips more of my sanity—the very little I’m clinging to after the few weeks from hell.
“If he doesn’t believe it?” He won’t. I wouldn’t. She wouldn’t change so abruptly.
“Then I fight.”
She doesn’t get it. She’s not understanding how dangerous he is.
My hands reach for her before I realize what I’m doing, dragging her against my body, holding her tighter than I have in days. My observing sister means little, not if it gets Serafina to understand.
Cupping the side of her face, my thumb nudging her chin up while my fingers wrap the back of her neck, I grind out, “I can’t lose you to this.”
Silence hovers throughout the Bratva gym we’ve cleared out for her training. My focus narrows so everything beyond the woman in my arms fades.
“I won’t.” My grip tightens, ensuring she can’t budge. There will be no aisle for her to walk. “I…I…won’t. Anything with even the slightest risk of going wrong isn’t worth your life.”
Then, uncaring that we’re being watched, I kiss her, telling her with my mouth what my stupid brain refuses to say. Showing her why she can’t fuck this up. Why, if this goes wrong, I’ll never forgive myself for not catching him sooner.
I’ll lock myself within the Bratva’s side of prison and make Vanessa throw away the key, letting me be driven to misery, insanity, and, eventually, death. This time, I won’t fight back.
“That’s sweet.” Ana’s voice cuts between the fog, compelling my hands to lower. “I have an idea to ensure she has the edge.”
With a huff, I turn away and drag a hand through my hair, aggravation replacing what her kiss healed. “It better be good. You’ve given enough shitty ideas for the night.”
“Roofie him. He did it to you, so turnaround’s fair game. We slip him drugs that’ll render him useless. Killing him will be a breeze.”
That…could work. It’s certainly better attacking straight on.
I face them, lowering my arms. “We can’t do it at the reception. He’ll be affected too quickly, and someone will notice.”
“Which means pouring him a drink inside the room,” Serafina fills in, her expression growing as bright as it used to be before her engagement.
“He won’t be so eager that he’d deny me of a glass of something, right?
” Her rhetorical question highlights one more concern, but of all options so far, this is the one most likely to succeed.
“It might work.” My heart slows a bit with the new possibilities. “Maybe. If we’re careful. It’s one more thing to hide in your dress.”
“Where do we get the drugs?” Serafina asks, striking only a chuckle from Ana.
“Oh, sweet child, let me take care of that. Of everything the Bratva has access to or controls, roofies are one of the simpler drugs.”
“Then we have a plan.” Serafina grins, looking between us.
“Still.” I retrieve the knife from my sister and hand it back to Serafina. “We’ll keep practicing.”
We go through another hour of drills while I return to not considering every reason she must master this.