Mafia Princess

Chapter 9: Viktor

Jane’s POV

I didn’t think I slept. But I must have, because Zack was standing over me saying “Up” and the clock said 4:31am.

My brain was cotton. My mouth tasted like sleep. My hair was probably a bird’s nest.

“You’ve got 10 minutes,” Zack said from the doorway. “Bathroom’s there. My shirts are in the top drawer if you want something clean. Yours won’t be here till 9.”

He left before I could answer. The door shut with a soft click.

I sat up. His blanket was still around me. It smelled like him — soap and mint and something metal. Safe. I didn’t want to give it back yet.

Peanut was on the nightstand. Next to Nanay’s rosary. Zack must have picked him up. My face went hot.

He touched Peanut.

I scrambled out of bed. The floor was cold. I grabbed one of Zack’s hoodies from the drawer. It was huge. It smelled like him too. I pulled it on over my sleep shirt and shorts. It went to my thighs. I looked like a kid playing dress-up.

I found a hair tie in my backpack and threw my hair up. Didn’t brush it. No time. Didn’t brush my teeth either. Gross, but Viktor could deal.

At exactly 10 minutes, I opened the door.

Zack was in the hall. Leaning against the wall. Arms crossed. Eyes closed. But he opened them the second my door moved.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. Then looked down at myself. “Do I look stupid?”

Zack’s eyes did a quick sweep. Not mean. Just… checking. Like he did in the car. “You look like you’re about to get your ass kicked by a Russian,” he said. “So no. You look right.”

I smiled before I could stop it. First real one since I got here.

Something in Zack’s face softened. Just for a second. Then it was gone. “Let’s go. Jake’s waiting by the stairs.”

We walked. Zack was behind me. Always behind me. I was starting to get it. He wasn’t being creepy. He was being… Zack.

Jake was bouncing at the top of the stairs like he’d had five coffees. “You’re alive!” he said when he saw me. “I thought Viktor would have to drag you out.”

“Viktor doesn’t drag,” a voice said.

Alexander was coming up the stairs. He was in workout clothes. Black, obviously. He looked at me. Then at Zack. Then at my hoodie.

“Yours?” Alexander asked Zack.

Zack didn’t answer. He just said, “She was cold.”

It was not cold. It was 5am in Manila. It was never cold.

Alexander’s mouth did a flat line. “Right. Let’s go. Dad’s already pissed we’re not down there yet.”

We went down. And down. And down. The basement was concrete. No windows. It smelled like sweat and bleach and boy.

Viktor was already there.

He was huge. Like, Tatay-would-call-him-higante (huge). Bald. Scar down his neck. Arms bigger than my head. He didn’t smile. I don’t think his face knew how.

“Jane Wilson,” he said. His accent was thick. Russian, like they said. “You are late.”

I checked my phone. 4:59. “It’s not 5 yet.”

“It is now,” Viktor said.

Zack stepped forward, putting himself half in front of me. “She’s here. We’re here. Start.”

Viktor looked at Zack. Then at me. Then back at Zack. “You are protective.”

“She’s fifteen,” Zack said. Flat. “She’s new. She’s the only one. You go easy, or I tell Dad.”

Viktor’s eyebrow went up. “You threaten me, boy?”

“I’m stating facts,” Zack said. His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant he wasn’t calm at all. “She’s not Alex. She’s not Jake. She’s not me.”

“She is Wilson,” Viktor said. “Wilson means ready. Always.”

“She’s been a Wilson for 12 hours,” Jake cut in. He stepped up on my other side. Now I was sandwiched. “Give her a minute. Jesus.”

Alexander sighed. “Viktor. Dad said evaluate. Not kill.”

Viktor looked at all three of them. Then at me. I was hiding in Zack’s hoodie, clutching the strings, probably looked like I was about to cry.

Which I wasn’t. Much.

Viktor exhaled. “Fine. Pushups. Both twins. Until I say stop.”

“Both?” Jake groaned. “Why both?”

“Because you are twins,” Viktor said. “You are the same. You train the same.”

“We’re not the same,” I said before I could stop myself. “He’s a boy.”

Viktor stared at me. Then, shocking everyone, he huffed. It was almost a laugh. “Smart girl. Ten pushups. Then we see.”

I dropped to the mat. My arms were noodles. I’d done PE at school, but PE at school was stretching and pretending to jog. This was not that.