Page 128 of Auctioned Innocence
But that moment of guilt, that flash of the overprotective brother, is exactly what I need. I spit blood and smile. “There’s the Marco I know. Always apologizing for treating me like I can actually fight.”
I’m on him before he can respond, using his shock against him. I grab his extended arm, use his own momentum to throw him over my shoulder. He hits the ground hard, and I’m there instantly, knee on his chest, hand positioned at his throat.
“The difference between us,” I say quietly, “is that I stopped pulling my punches the day someone tried to kill me for real.”
“Shit,” he breathes, rolling to his feet and recognizing the throw Dante perfected during our training sessions. There’s new respect in his eyes now, mixed with something that might be fear.
We circle each other, both breathing hard. The playful sparring is over—this is real combat now, and we both know it.
“You’ve gotten faster,” he admits grudgingly.
“I’ve gotten desperate,” I counter. “There’s a difference.”
He feints left then goes right, but I read it coming. I’ve learned to read violence in men’s eyes, learned to see death approaching in the split second before it strikes. Marco’s just sparring, testing me.
The men who tried to kill me weren’t playing games.
I let him think the feint worked, stumbling slightly to the right then pivoting at the last second and catching him off balance. My elbow drives toward his solar plexus—not hard enough to really hurt but enough to wind him.
As he doubles over, gasping, I sweep behind him. When I finally pin him—arm twisted behind his back, my knee against his spine, my other hand positioned where I could strike a killing blow if this were real—we’re both breathing hard. But there’ssomething completely different in his eyes when he looks at me over his shoulder.
Not his little sister.
Not anymore.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as I release him and help him up. “When did you learnthatcounter?”
I swipe away blood from my mouth. “When I stopped waiting for someone to save me.” I offer him my hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he takes it. “When I realized I needed to save myself.”
Something fundamental shifts in his expression. The way he looks at me—it’s like seeing me for the first time.Reallyseeing me. He turns to Dante, who hasn’t moved from his position by the window.
“You taught her that move.” It’s not a question.
“She learned it herself,” Dante responds quietly. “I just showed her how to refine it.”
Marco studies us both for a long moment—Dante’s protective stance even while giving me space to fight my own battles, the way I automatically position myself where I can watch both men and the door, the easy communication that exists between us without words.
“You’re not kids playing house,” he says slowly, realization dawning. “This is real. You’re really…” He runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly older. “You’re partners. In everything.”
Before either of us can respond, Dante’s secure phone chimes with an urgent alert. The pattern makes my blood run cold when I see his face—something’s very wrong.
“Multiple breaches at the Renaldi estate,” Dante reports, checking the encrypted message. “They’re targeting?—”
“The house files,” I finish, already pulling up the security system on the laptop. “Lorenzo’s panicking,” I say, scrolling through messages. “He knows we have—he’s trying to destroyevidence before the Council meeting.” I look up. “We need to move. Like, now. They’re sweeping everything.”
Marco pulls out his own phone, checking family security feeds. “How did they get past the new protocols?”
“Because Lorenzo designed them.” The betrayal still tastes bitter. “He’s been planning this for a long time.”
I study the timeline of attacks and betrayals. The pattern goes back further than I initially thought. “This goes back years. Longer than we realized.”
Marco’s studying the timeline too, his face growing darker. “Dante, that first assignment Lorenzo gave you when you were?—”
“Not now, Marco,” Dante cuts him off sharply, but something dark and haunted flickers in his eyes.
I look between them, sensing undercurrents I don’t understand. “What assignment?”
“Viktor and Dominic’s men are setting up a perimeter around the estate,” Dante adds, scanning reports and clearly trying to change the subject. “They’re working together with Lorenzo.”
