I wake up with my face pressed against a stuffed Dobby. This Siena girl is seriously a hardcore HP fan. Any second now, I expect Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger to burst through the door to ask me to battle Voldemort. For that, I’ll need to know where she keeps the wands.

After making the bed, I venture out into the hall in search of Viviana’s room. If she’s anything like she used to be, she’s still asleep.

I knock, hearing the sound of light snoring. Cracking the door open, I peek inside. “Mad—I mean Vivvy?” One more thing to add to my list of things that will take some getting used to.

She’s still snoring away, dead to the world. Mornings were never her specialty, but Leo is going to be here in less than half an hour, and the thought of it being just the two of us freaks me out. Yeah, he’s my brother—but he kind of scares me.

I step inside the room, looking around, drifting over the plum-colored walls, the black velvet headboard, and the soft shag carpet. There’s a desk in the corner with an open laptop and a camera lying on the surface. Several framed photographs decorate the wall behind it. Empty beaches, lush gardens, riverbanks—all nature scenes. She’s even more talented than I remember. I pick up a business card lying on the desk, surprised to find it reads Serra Graphics.

The snoring stops, replaced by a tortured moan. But it doesn’t come from the bed.

It sounds like it came from the closet.

Setting the card back down, I glance at the closet, which is on the opposite wall of the bedroom. The voice couldn’t have come from there.

I walk over to the bed and peel back the covers. Pillows are neatly arranged into the shape of a body.

I hear Viviana’s muffled voice again—definitely inside the closet. I push open the door, raising my brows. There she is, tangled in a mess of blankets on a twin-sized mattress that’s been squeezed into the small space.

“Why does he have to schedule these sessions so fucking early?” Her phone vibrates inside of a black high heel. She slaps the screen several times until it stops. Peeking out of the edge of her blanket, she yawns, and looks up at me.

“You sleep in the closet?”

Muffled chuckling escapes. “Weird, isn’t it?”

I shrug. “Everyone’s a little weird.”

She pushes the covers down, sitting up. “I sleep better in here.”

No explanations are needed. I understand exactly why Viviana does it. If someone enters her bedroom at night, the first place they’d look for her is in her bed. Hell, maybe I should sleep in the closet too. Last night I stared at the window for half an hour, wondering if the killer followed me from the hotel.

“Leo says it’s ridiculous. He says if anyone breaks into my bedroom, all they have to do is follow the sound of my snoring.”

I choke back a laugh. It’s really not funny, and I shouldn’t be laughing, but our brother has a point there. “You should get one of those white noise makers. You know, the kind that plays whale songs and ocean waves.”

She tilts her head, considering it. “Not a bad idea. What about you? Did you sleep well?”

“As well as any witch.”

She laughs and tosses the blankets aside. “Siena is an avid reader.” Standing into a long stretch, she says, “She likes to lose herself in books.”

“Her, books. You, photography.”

Leaving the closet, I trace my fingertips over the edge of the desk, glancing back up at the pictures on the wall. Viviana follows me out, flipping through screens on her cellphone. “It helps, you know. Having an outlet. Yours should be painting. When you allow yourself to create something beautiful, the darkness of our reality fades away, at least for a little while.” Looking up from her phone, she stares at me for a long moment, and the next time she speaks, her voice is sharper. “She was taken as a little girl.”

I steer my whole body around. “Siena?”

Viviana nods. “One of the scariest twenty-nine hours of Care and Hugo’s lives. The police found her wandering the streets with rope burns around her wrists and a cut on her stomach. To this day, she refuses to talk about what happened.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, feeling my stomach twist violently. Jesus, a child. What could he have done to that poor girl to shut her down? “Oh my God…I had no idea.”

“As the years went by, we tried to get her to talk. We tried to make her understand that she could save lives if she would only tell us about her abductor. Still, she refused. I kept persisting, until one day she admitted she never saw his face. She told me not to ask her about it again, and so I haven’t.”

I’m at a loss. I can’t even imagine what Siena went through. No wonder her bedroom is a fantasy world. Books are truly her escape.

My own gleaming childhood stands out against theirs, the way black stands out against white. They should’ve had the chance to grow up the same as any other kid. What my dad gave me—it’s starting to make more sense. I was so angry at him for cutting me off. I’m still angry because he hasn’t contacted me. But now…now it’s swiftly opening my eyes to the sacrifices he made. In many ways, I was saved.

“Someone out there hates our family, Milly. They want to see us destroyed in every sense of the word. I hate that we can’t figure out who and why.”

I’d like to tell her that we’ll find the killer, that an end is near, but I can’t say those words. Giving her a false sense of hope means giving myself one too. What I could use more than hope is strength, which is what I’m counting on Leo to give me today.

“What’s Leo’s outlet?” I ask curiously.

“He doesn’t have an outlet; he has vices,” Viviana snorts.

“His poison, then?”

“Weed. He smokes every day. Multiple times a day. Thought he was onto something at first, but when I smoke, it just makes me more paranoid. Ugh, that’s a text from him,” she grumbles, tossing her phone onto the desk. She starts rummaging through a laundry basket. “Says he’ll be here in ten minutes—where is my sports bra? I know I just washed it.”

“Meet you downstairs,” I tell her, rushing off to get myself ready. I hurry to change into a pair of yoga pants and a basic gray V-neck. I didn’t think to pack gym shoes, because let’s face it, I never go to gyms or workout. I sadly look through all of the sandals and flip-flops in my bag, knowing they’re no use to me in this cold, wet country. Thankfully I find one pair of Converse shoes. Not exactly the athletic gear I need, but at least they’re close-toed.

Twenty minutes later, we’re both dressed and headed downstairs. Leo is waiting by the door, tapping the face of his watch. “Think you two can move any slower? Let’s go.”

Viviana kisses him on the cheek. “Good morning to you too.” She veers toward the kitchen island, grabbing two blueberry muffins from the basket, tossing me one.

“Sergio is waiting on us, Vivvy. Get in the damn car.”

She purses her lips into a pout. “Does that mean we can’t stop for coffee?”

“Car—now.” He practically shoves us out the door.

“We’re going. No need to be so pushy.”

On the way to the gym, I ask Viviana about her graphic design business. “Oh, it’s something I just recently started. So far, it’s a decent source of income. Mostly photo manipulation and some website design. Eventually, I’d like to turn it into an avenue to get my photography out there.”

“That’s awesome.”

She shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I’m toying with the idea of moving out of Care and Hugo’s house, but it’s a big step. I’m twenty-two, you’d think I could handle it, but…” She shakes her head. “…I just can’t. Leo is braver than me.”

Leo glances over at Viviana, and I see the corners of his eyes tighten. “There’s no reason for you to move out, Vivvy. You’re safe there.”

But we all know this is not about where she lives. This is about her desire to live a normal life. Like Casper said, living fearlessly. The fact that Leo lives alone and changed his name back to Serra speaks volumes. He’s giving the killer the middle finger, and I kind of respect him for it.

We ride the rest of the way in silence, which isn’t long because the gym is only a few blocks away. Sergio greets us at the entrance. Younger than I expected, he’s mid to late twenties, has a dark complexion, and a close-cut shaved head. All lean, sinewy muscle, he’s definitely the kind of guy that frequents a gym six days a week.

As we approach the building, he flashes a megawatt grin and holds out his hand for me to shake. “You must be Amelia. Nice to meet you.”

His grip is intimidating. Strength radiates through it, reminding me of what I signed up for. Me, the girl who hates all form of exercise unless it involves swimming or walking on the beach. And by swimming, I mean floating.

“Come on in,” he says, waving us inside. “Let’s get started.”

Sergio’s demeanor isn’t as threatening as his handshake. His voice is smooth and friendly. It has that instructive, yet patient quality to it. He has a nice face, too. Warm brown eyes, slightly wideish nose, a kind smile. As far as trainers go, he seems like the encouraging type.

We enter a private section of the gym, closed off to regular visitors. There’s a set of benches against the far wall, mirrors on the opposite end, and a rack of dumbbells in the corner. Other than that, it’s just an empty space.

“Serg, let’s keep it at a beginner’s level today, okay?” Leo says, dropping his gym bag to the side. “Mila is new to self-defense, so we need you to lay out the basics.”

“You got it, boss.” Sergio winks at me. “But I’m not going easy on her.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

Great. My stomach is already churning with dread.

You wanted to do this, remember?

The three of us move to the center of the room. Leo and Viviana stand back while Sergio and I are front and center.

“Okay, a little background first.” Sergio claps his hands together. “There are no rules in self-defense. If you’re ever in a situation that requires it, you want to inflict as much damage as you can, as quickly as you can, and then get the hell out of there. You’re not going to be worried about technique in the real world. Escape is your number one priority. You got me so far?”

I nod. No rules. Inflict pain. Escape. Got it.

“Good. Keep in mind, men have upper-body strength, but most women are stronger in their legs. If kicking is an option, go for it.”

“Aim for the balls,” Viviana adds with a smirk.

Sergio grins, looking embarrassed. “Just not mine, okay?”

I press my lips together. “Noted.”

“Let’s start with how to get out of a chokehold,” Sergio suggests. “Viviana, would you like to demonstrate?”

“Sure.” She walks toward him, wearing spandex leggings and a loose tank, all black of course, right down to her black Adidas.

Once she’s in position, Sergio wraps his long fingers around Viviana’s slender neck. “Now what you want to do is reach up with one hand and unhook your attacker’s fingers. Don’t try for their wrist; there’s too much power behind it. And even if you can’t remove their fingers, you’re distracting him from noticing your next move. Men aren’t usually the best at multitasking.”

Viviana makes a sound that is half laugh, half snort.

“You’re being attacked,” Sergio reminds her. “No laughing.”

“Sorry.” She reaches up and unhooks his left hand.

“Then with the other hand, you want to aim for the face. Don’t go around his arms; it doesn’t give you as much longevity. You want to go through them. Show her, Viv.”

Viviana moves her free arm up through Sergio’s arms, palm turned up.

“She’s showing you in slow-motion, but you’ll want to go as hard and fast as you can, aiming for your attacker’s nose. They will fall back, hopefully with a bloody nose, and voilà, you’re free from the chokehold. Do you want to try?”

I nod again. It looked simple enough.

Sergio positions himself in front of me. “Have you ever been choked, Amelia?”

Behind us, we hear both Leo and Viviana coughing. Heat rises to my cheeks. I don’t know why that question feels sexual, but it does. “Um, no.”

“The reason I ask is because if you’ve never experienced what it feels like to be choked, you should. It’s kind of like getting a bad cut or a scrape and seeing all the blood gushing out. You feel sort of nauseous and dizzy.”

“Why would I need to experience that?”

“To desensitize yourself,” he explains. “The more you experience it, the better you’re equipped to handle your reaction when it happens in real life.”

Oh, Jesus. This guy wants to choke me. Literally choke the air from my lungs.

Thankfully, Sergio detects my anxiety. “We can save it for another day, but think about it, okay? It doesn’t have to be me. It can be someone you trust.”

“Okay.” Yeah, no. Never going to happen.

He stretches his fingers around my neck without pressing down. I follow Viviana’s movements, unhooking his left fingers first, then reaching through his arms to fake hit him in his nose.

“Nicely done.”

“Thanks.” I beam, sort of proud of myself. Look at me go.

“Again,” comes Leo’s booming voice from behind me. “This time with more strength behind that hit, Mila.”

Aaaand there goes the moment.

We practice the move several more times, each time making me worry I might actually hit Sergio. But somehow, I never do.

An hour later, I’m slightly more knowledgeable about self-defense than before. A few more of these lessons, and who knows. I might become as equally badass as they are.

“Good job today, Amelia.” Sergio says, high-fiving me.

“Thanks for teaching me.”

Sergio’s gaze drifts over the three of us. “See you guys tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? I figured this was a weekly class, not an every day thing.

Leo nods. “Yep. Same time.”

Once we’re out of the building, Viviana immediately starts in on Leo. “I can’t handle daily lessons. Not when they’re this early.”

“This is nonnegotiable, Viv. It was different before Mila showed up. For one, we know the killer is plotting again. We could use the practice. And two, she’s still a beginner. She needs to be trained as quickly as possible.”

She considers that, sighing. “Ugh, I hate it when you make valid arguments.”