Mafia Princess

Chapter 8: Mine to protect

Zack's POV

I don't sleep.

Not since I was 10 and Dad found me hiding in a closet. Not since Sandro Wilson walked in, looked at me, and said, "You're mine now."

I sleep in bursts. 20 minutes. 40 if I'm lucky. The rest is just... waiting. Watching.

So when Jane knocked at 12:47am, I was already awake. I'm always awake.

She was standing there in my jacket. My jacket. It went to her knees. Her feet were bare. Her hair was a mess. She was holding it together with both hands, and there was a stuffed bear's ear sticking out of the pocket.

'Peanut' she said his name earlier.

She looked like she was gonna shatter if I said the wrong thing.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I can't sleep," she said. Small.

Of course she couldn't. New house. New family. No sister next to her. Dad probably didn't think about that. Dad doesn't think about girl things. Dad hasn't had to think about girl things since Mom died having Jake and Jane.

I got her inside before the hall cameras had time to flag it. Dad has rules. Rule #6: No one in anyone else's room after midnight. Security reasons. And because if anyone touched her, I'd have to kill them, and that's paperwork.

"You sleep with your sister," I said. Not a question. I'd read her file. Sandro has files on everyone. Jane Lopez: 15. Second youngest of four. Shares room with older sister Liza. Sleeps with stuffed bear named Peanut. Scared of the dark. Scared of being alone.

She nodded. Her face was red. "Ate Liza. My whole life. If she wasn't there I'd... I don't know. Read. Or cry. Usually both."

"Jesus, Jane"

She was 15. She looked 12. She was supposed to be Sandro Wilson's daughter. She was supposed to be dangerous.

I gave her the bed. Obviously. I wasn't gonna make her sleep on the floor.

"You take the bed," I said. "I don't sleep anyway."

"I can't take your bed," she said. "That's weird."

"Weirder if you pass out during combat training and Dad blames me," I said. "Bed. Now. That's an order."

"You're not the boss of me," she mumbled. But she laid down.

Good.

I took the chair. Kept my eyes on the door. Gun in the side table. Knife under the armrest. Old habits.

"Zack?" she said to the ceiling.

"What."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's my job." That's what I said.

It is my job. Sandro took me in when I was 10. Fed me. Trained me. Gave me a name that wasn't Miller anymore. Not legally, but in every way that mattered. He said, "You protect what's mine. You're mine. They're mine. Got it?"

I got it.

Alexander's mine. Jake's mine. Sandro's mine.

And now Jane's mine.

Not mine like a 'thing'. Mine like a 'responsibility'. Mine like if she dies, I die.

She fell asleep in 4 minutes. I counted.

She snores. Little puffs of air. Like a kitten. Jake's gonna love that.

I watched her for a second. Too long. She looked younger asleep. Her hand was under her cheek. The rosary was on the nightstand. Peanut was under her arm.

Only girl.

Dad hadn't said it out loud, but we all knew. No more daughters. Not after Mom. He shut that part of himself off. Then Jane shows up, 15 years late, with a bear and muddy shoes and eyes like Mom's.

This was gonna break him. Or fix him.

Probably break him first.

---

*4:30am*

My phone buzzed. Viktor texted: Gym. 5am. Both twins. Zack, you spot.

I stood up. Stretched. Looked at the bed.

Jane was a mess. Hair everywhere. My blanket up to her nose. Peanut half on the floor.

"Jane," I said. Not loud. Just normal.

She didn't move.

"Jane," I said again. "Up. Viktor time."

She mumbled something into the pillow. Sounded like "five more minutes, Ate."

That hit me somewhere under the ribs.

I walked over and picked Peanut up off the floor. Put him on the nightstand next to the rosary.

"Up," I said. "Now. Or I'll tell Jake you sleep with a teddy bear."

Her eyes opened. Immediately. Wide. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," I said. But I was fighting a smile. First time in years. "You've got 10 minutes. Bathroom's there. My shirts are in the top drawer if you want something clean. Yours won't be here till 9."

She sat up, holding my blanket to her chest like a shield. "You're not gonna... watch, right?"

"Jesus," I said. "No. I'm gonna be in the hall. 10 minutes, Jane. Or Viktor comes here. And you don't want that."

She scrambled up. "Okay! Okay. 10 minutes."

I left. Stood in the hall. Counted to 600.

At 599, my door opened. She was in one of my black hoodies. It went to her thighs. Her hair was in a messy bun. She looked like a kid wearing her dad's clothes.

Which, technically...

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded. "Do I look stupid?"

"You look like you're about to get your ass kicked by a Russian," I said. "So no. You look right."

She gave me a tiny smile. First one I'd seen.

It did something to my chest. Something I didn't have a name for.

Protect what's mine.

Yeah.

I was gonna be real good at that.