Chapter 8: The Kards

The silence in the training hall was so thick you could have cut it with a combat knife. Gio was still hovering over me, his weight pinning me to the mat, his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my lungs forget how to function.

"Boss?" Jett’s voice was dripping with forced innocence from the doorway. "We can come back later if you’re... busy working on your 'form.' We didn't realize the training involved such a close-quarters inspection."

Gio snapped out of it like he’d been electrocuted. He scrambled off me, his face flushing a shade of red I didn't know a mafia don was capable of producing.

I sat up, dusting off my hoodie and offering the three of them a bright, totally-not-panicking grin while I ignored the way my heart was still hammering against my ribs.

"Oh, don't mind him," I said, standing up and stretching my limbs as if I hadn't just been crushed by 200 pounds of muscle. "He was just showing me the 'ground-and-pound' technique. Though I think he was mostly just using me as a mattress. Turns out, being a mafia don is exhausting work; he probably just needed a nap."

The two men standing behind Jett shared a look of pure, unadulterated disbelief. One was a tall, scarred man with a heavy build, and the other was a lean guy with tech-shades hanging from his shirt.

"Samson, shut up," Gio hissed, his voice like a rattling tail of a snake. He turned to his men, his posture stiffening back into the cold, untouchable leader. "It’s not what it looks like. He’s clumsy. He tripped and dragged me down because he doesn't know how to use his own feet."

"Right. Dragged you down," Jett repeated, leaning against the doorframe with a wicked smirk. He looked at Gio, then back at me. "You know, Boss... I’ve worked for you for five years. Usually, you just grunt at us or tell us to get out of your sight. I don't think I've heard you explain yourself this much in a whole month. You're becoming quite the chatterbox with the nurse."

Gio froze. He went dead silent, his eyes darting to Jett with a look that should have caused spontaneous combustion.

The realization that he was actually engaging with me—bickering back like a normal person—seemed to hit him like a physical blow. He clamped his jaw shut, his face turning back into that unreadable marble mask.

I didn't let him stay silent for long.

"Aw, did Jett hurt your feelings, Boss?" I teased, stepping closer into his personal space. "Is that why you've gone quiet? Don't worry, your 'scary leader' reputation is still intact. Well, mostly. Except for the part where you're currently wearing a smudge of my hoodie lint on your shoulder."

I reached out and flicked his bare shoulder. The Kards gasped in unison. Gio looked down at my hand like it was a poisonous spider.

"You," Gio pointed a shaking finger at me, his eyes flashing. "One more word about my personality, my talking habits, or my 'nap,' and I will personally toss you off the roof."

I didn't flinch. I just crossed my arms, looking him up and down with an amused glint in my eyes. "The roof? Careful, Boss. If you throw me off, you’ll have to find someone else to fix your bandages, and we both know you're terrible at it. Who's going to listen to you grumble then? Jett? He’ll just laugh at you. You’d miss me in an hour."

The scarred man let out a muffled sound that was definitely a suppressed laugh. While the techy man actually had to turn away, coughing into his hand to hide a grin.

"Did... did the nurse just tell the Boss he’d miss him?" Techy guy whispered to scarred man.

"He’s either the bravest man I’ve ever met or he’s literally got a death wish," scarred man whispered back. "I’ve seen people killed for less than that smirk."

"Enough!" Gio roared, though the flush on his neck hadn't faded. He looked at Jett, desperate to regain control of the room. "If he’s going to stay in this house without being killed by my own men, he needs to learn how we operate. Jett, introduce the team and give him the list. Now."

Jett stepped forward, clearing his throat and trying to look serious, though his eyes were still dancing with mischief. "Alright, Samson. Since you're apparently the only person alive who isn't afraid of a bullet to the brain, let's get formal. This big guy is Spade—heavy weapons. If it needs to go 'boom,' he's your guy. This is Club—surveillance and tech. He knows what you ate for breakfast before you even do."

He paused, his smile fading slightly. "The only one missing is Ace. He's Gio’s second-in-command and best friend. He’s out on a solo mission. You should be glad; he’s a lot less patient with 'brats' than the Boss is."

I nodded at them, keeping my "Allizander" persona steady. "Nice to meet the fan club. So, what are the commandments of the Vitale Cathedral?"

Jett began ticking them off on his fingers, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. "Rule number one: Do not enter the basement. Not for a tour, not for a snack. You go down there, you don't come back out the same."

"Is that where you hide the rest of the candy?" I asked, looking at Gio.

"Samson!" Gio barked. "Focus!"

"Rule number two," Jett continued. "No communication devices. We track every signal. If you want to talk to the outside world, you ask us first. Rule number three: Stay within ten feet of Gio during transit. You’re his shadow and his nurse."

"Ten feet? That’s awfully close," I teased, looking at Gio’s scowling face. "Are you sure you can handle that much of me, Boss? You might get addicted to my company."

Gio’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure loathing—the kind he reserved for the 'poison' he’d mentioned earlier. "I'd sooner get addicted to a migraine. You are a tool, Samson. Nothing more."

"And the big one," Jett added, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Rule number four: Do not ever mention a woman in this house. Not a sexy model, not a pretty idol, not a cute girl you saw on the street. To Gio, they’re all liabilities. Don't bring that 'poison' near him."

The reminder sent a chill through me. A liability. A thing. If only they knew the "poison" was standing right in front of them, mocking their leader's ego.

Gio stepped back into the center of the room, his eyes turning cold and professional as he dismissed the banter. "Pack your medical kit, Samson. You have until tomorrow night to prepare. We’re moving out under the cover of darkness. We have a new mission: we’re intercepting a high-value weapon shipment passing through the northern district."

He looked at Jett, Spade, and Club. "Midnight. Be ready. And someone get this brat out of my sight before I forget I need a nurse."

I turned to leave, but I couldn't help but throw one last look over my shoulder at Gio. "Don't forget to moisturize that scowl, Boss! It'll cause wrinkles!"

I heard Gio let out a frustrated growl, followed by Jett’s cackle as the heavy doors swung shut behind me.