Page 112 of Tragic Empire

A giggle leaves me and I shrug. “Now I’m laughing too.”

“All right, where do you want me?” Colton flings his arms out to the side, offering himself up like a sacrifice. “I’m ready to be thrown around.”

I snort, nodding to the practice mats. “We can do some sparring, treat it like No-Gi Judo.”

Rubbing his hands together mischievously, Colton grins. “Sounds good, doll. Don’t embarrass me too badly?”

“I’m going to record her hurling you across the floor to send to everyone we know,” Armani declares, smirking.

“I’ll happily return the favor.” Colton faces me in the center of the mat. “Okay, so how are we—oh no?—”

I rush at him full speed, jumping to wrap my legs around his neck and fling myself downward. Colton flips to the ground, landing with a hard thud as I hop back to my feet. Armani is cackling, holding his phone up and clutching his stomach.

“I don’t think that was Judo,” Colton groans, rolling onto his back to stand up again.

“It wasn’t,” I quip, trying not to giggle. “That was just for fun.”

“Vicious, little doll,” he grunts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it’s Armani’s turn to get abused.”

“All right, pretty girl, I’m coming for you.”

Armani jogs toward me, extending a hand like he might grab me with it. I snatch it instead, turning to the side. Using his momentum and body weight against him, I throw Armani off-balance, maneuver him over my hip, and send him crashing into the ground.

I know that in a life or death situation, both of these men could probably take me down without much effort. But it’s nice that they’re allowing me to show my skills anyway. For me, Judo is meant to help even the playing field. It’s great for women, focusing on technique rather than brute strength to be successful.

We spend the next hour laughing, sparring, and even breaking out the boxing gloves to do some hitting drills. I’m breathing heavily and sweating far too much for my liking by the time we call it quits.

Sitting down on a foam chair, I swipe some hair from my eyes and wait for the boys to come over with cold beverages. Having a fridge in the gym is a luxury I appreciate every time I come in here.

“We’ve thought of an idea,” Colton pipes up, flopping down onto a clean, folded mat near my feet.

“Did it hurt?” I joke.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes.

“When Jade first came into the family, Matteo gave her a bunch of information about us,” Armani interrupts, passing me a bottle of chilled electrolyte water. “He wanted her to feel like one of us, and she couldn’t do that if she knew nothing about us.”

“So,” Colton says, clapping his hands together. “We’re going to do the same thing, twenty questions style.”

Armani nods, dropping into a large bean bag chair to face us. “Unlike Jade, you already know all our names and some of what we do. But hit us with those burning questions, and make them juicy. We’re family now, after all.”

“I like this idea,” I admit. “I feel like we’re really close somehow, but I still don’t know a ton about either of you.”

“We feel the same.”

The questions start slow and innocent enough.

When did you two meet?Armani was eight, Colton was seven.

Did you go to high school?Both had tutors privately, just like me.

Favorite kind of music?Country for Colton, Rock for Armani.

Do you have a favorite Moretti family memory?Armani says it’s too hard to choose, butDad and Apollo teaching him how to shoot his first gun, and the day they found Jade came to mind.

What did you want to be when you were little?Colton wanted to be a cowboy like his father, and Armani never wanted a job. He wanted to collect clothes and shoot guns—which he brags is literally what he does now. When they ask the same thing to me, I tell them I wanted to be an artist like my mum, until I realized I hate the smell of paint and don’t have the attention span to stick to any medium.

Oddly enough the thing that steers the conversation toward a more salacious direction begins with me asking Armani, “Which sibling are you closest to?”