We eat facing each other across the small table. The constant domesticity has been hitting me harder than it should. Sharing meals. Sharing space. Sharing things I haven't shared with anyone in five years.
"Can I ask you something?" She sets down her fork.
"You're going to anyway."
"The drill this morning. You designed it to test me, but it also felt like..." She pauses, searching for words. "Like you were preparing me for something specific. Not just general survival skills. Something you're expecting to happen."
Sharp. Too sharp.
"I'm always expecting something to happen. That's how I stay alive."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have." I meet her eyes. "The Castellanos haven't given up. They're not going to give up. Sooner or later, they'll find a way to come at you again. When they do, I need you ready."
"You think they'll find us here?"
"I think they'll try. Whether they succeed depends on how good their intelligence is and how desperate they get." I push my plate aside. "Dominic Castellano has a lot to lose if you testify. Men with a lot to lose do desperate things."
She absorbs that, her expression thoughtful rather than frightened. "So the training isn't just about making me feel better. It's about giving me a real chance if your defenses fail."
"My defenses won't fail."
"But if they do."
"Then you'll have the skills to survive long enough for me to fix the situation." I lean forward. "I'm not planningto fail, Vivian. I'm planning for every contingency. There's a difference."
"The difference being your confidence level?"
"The difference being that failure isn't an option I'm willing to accept."
She studies me for a long moment. "You really mean that."
"I don't say things I don't mean."
"No." A small smile curves her lips. "You don't. It's one of the things I like about you."
"One of the things?"
"There's a list. It's getting longer." She stands and starts clearing plates. "Despite your best efforts to be unlikeable."
"I'm not trying to be unlikeable."
"You're not trying to be likeable either. Which is somehow more attractive." She glances over her shoulder. "Don't let that go to your head."
I shouldn't let any of this go anywhere. Shouldn't let her compliments or her smiles or the easy way she moves through my space affect me. But they do. Everything about Vivian Russo affects me in ways I can't control.
The day passes in more training. Knife work, as promised. She's clumsy at first, uncomfortable with the blade, but by afternoon she can execute basic defensive moves without cutting herself. Progress.
"You're a fast learner," I tell her as we clean up the training area.
"You keep saying that like it surprises you."
"It does. Most people take weeks to get where you are."
"Most people aren't being hunted by the mob." She wipes down the training knife and hands it back to me. "Motivation matters."
"So does natural ability. You have both."
