Finally, my luck ran out. I stumbled on a rock, and because it was near the cliff, over I flew, rolling in the process as everything I came in contact with painfully dug into my skin and face. It felt like an eternity until my body landed, plastered right near the road. I lay still as my eyes watched the night sky filled with thousands of stars and fitful breaths escaped my lips.
The last thing I remember thinking was that it was a really awful way to die at my young age, and I hadn’t accomplished any of my dreams. What did people do when someone or something came to take them away?
Then numbness and oblivion overtook me, and I welcomed it, because it brought such needed relief.
Over.
Everything was finally over.
Rosa
Wrapping my hands tightly around the black Beretta Brigadier .40, I pressed the trigger and it fired loudly. The bullet hit right in the middle of the target, creating a deep hole through which light streamed.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
No matter how many times I pulled the trigger, I always hit the target. When Damian took me under his wing nearly five years ago, he, Connor, and Luke made it their mission to teach me everything about self-defense.
A memory of four years ago came to mind.
“On the side,” Connor shouted, as I dipped my head from the onslaught of the punching bag flying right at me and several plastic knives that were thrown my way. I managed to slide to the side just as he instructed. Next, I climbed the rope, pulling myself up despite the blisters throbbing on my palms, and I started to swing fiercely then dropped onto the mattress, landing on my feet, my hands at my sides. Glancing at the clock, I bent my arms at the elbows and danced a few salsa steps. Five seconds faster than the last time.
The kick behind my knees came out of nowhere. I lost my balance and ended up on the floor, my eyes glued to a stain on the ceiling.
“And you are dead.” I glared at Connor, who stood above me. His muscled body was on full display in his workout shorts and tee, which stuck to his sweaty torso. His short blonde buzz-cut hair attracted the sunlight. His emerald-green eyes shone with satisfaction and displeasure at the same time.
“It’s not fair. My training ends at this point.”
Shaking his head, he took a sip from the water bottle he held. “Darlin’, you should always be ready. You never know when danger is lurking. Learn to stay focused until the mission is over.”
Frowning in confusion, I questioned, “What missions, man? I’m not planning to become an FBI agent, you know. Just learn self-defense.” Connor was in the FBI and helped Damian solve his case. Both Connor and Frankie were kidnapped by the same child-prostitution trafficking ring, and they probably would’ve faced the same fate had it not been for Luke and the twins.
After my tragic story—and they didn't even know half of it—all three men decided it was crucial for me to learn how to take care of myself. So three times a week, Connor brought me here, some old gym owned by some ex-military guy, and he provided much-needed action training. Three other days each week, I worked out at home, building muscles and strength training, while Luke gave me his notorious lectures about not forgetting to be a woman in all this.
Connor shrugged and pointed his index finger at me. “Remember, Rosa, when it comes to self-defense, there is no such thing as too much.”
“This girl is on fire,” a voice said behind me, snapping me from my memory, and loud enough for me to hear despite the headphones I was wearing. Ignoring his words, I continued firing the gun until he finally stepped into my vision and stopped me. “Is that a way to greet me, Rosa?” Damian wore jeans covering up his cast, a black shirt, and a boot. His hair had grown a bit longer, so he shoved it back in a messy man-bun.
All-in-all, he looked good.
Unfortunately for me, he was almost identical to Dominic, which right then didn't really make him my favorite person in the world.
Like at freaking all.
“Are you ignoring me?”
Taking off my glasses and headphones, I raised my brow and flashed him a million-dollar smile. “Whatever made you think so?”
His eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger at me. “Cut the bullshit. I’m here to talk.”
Turning my head from side to side, I searched for Sapphire and Kristina, but the field and terrace of the house were empty. “You came alone?” It was hard not to notice the disbelief in my voice.
He chuckled and then sat on the nearby bench, patting it for me to follow suit. “They’re home. I needed to speak with you alone.” Sighing heavily, I joined him but still refused to hold his stare, so I just focused my attention on the beautiful rose garden my dad had at his New York mansion.
The mansion was located thirty minutes from the city on several acres of land, enough for all Dad’s favorite hobbies and his constant guests.
He had fountains, flowers, and arches along with marble statues in his garden. Everything was surrounded by black and red roses, my mom’s favorite. The grass was as green as emeralds and so soft to the touch. The effect was the same as lying on thousands of silky sheets. A round alcove stood right in the middle, covered in orchids that grew in the greenhouse a few feet away. Our butler, Bob, cared for them and made sure they blossomed.
The firing range was located at the far end, closer to the house in case something happened. Dad’s pigeons lived in a special cage farther into the garden. They were all white, and he allowed them to fly freely, as they always came back. He could spend hours with them, whispering something, and probably reminiscing about old times.
