Lola hadn’t had any experience fighting before Vito ca into her life. Even though she’d convinced Loren—back when Loren was alive—to let her enroll in a martial‑arts class, she never really used the training. Besides, she’d only studied for a year and was still at a beginner’s level.
With everything that happened in her life, and with her gaining weight over the years, she almost forgot about it. Years later, when she accidentally saved Vito from the people he was dealing with—only to be ambushed afterward—the man taught her how to fight. In Vito’s world, her life was constantly in danger.
So he began by teaching her how to assemble and dismantle a pistol. When she could do that even blindfolded, he taught her how to aim, shoot, and improve her marksmanship. On top of that, she trained with him in close combat.
When she was finally ready, Vito threw her into a brutal fight against one of his n. She lost—obviously, given her lack of experience. But Vito kept picking her up and throwing her into another fight. It started once every two weeks, then once a week, then every four days, then every other day until it beca every night. Her injuries from each fight also lessened.
By the ti Lola was thrown into the cage where the real, bloody fights took place, she had already been beaten many tis. Still, no one saw it that way. What everyone saw was that before she even set foot in that tal cage—where two fighters battled to the brink of death while the crowd placed bets—Lola looked like she was more than ready.
That place beca her real training ground.
Each fight was another lesson, another bruise, another scar, another skill—skills Vito put to use when he’d had enough of the fights and started giving her missions. In no ti, she earned a moniker: Looney. As in lunatic.
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"Back then, I was his perfect machine," Lola whispered, eyes cast down. "I never asked questions. I just did what he told because... it was easier that way. Used to be."
She pursed her lips, then lifted her eyes to et Atlas’s. "The training lasted eight months, and for the next six months, I fought in the underground cage. The rest... I just did whatever dirty work he wanted to do."
And with that added experience, Lola got really good at so things she would never be proud of.
"So don’t bla yourself," she squeezed Atlas’s hand. "Vito has a lot of enemies, and they were my enemies too. Those people wanted dead just as much as they wanted Vito dead. I can only think Vito was either being followed, or he wanted dead—that’s why he sent Salvo to get that night. To prove to whoever was watching that I’m still alive."
"I saw the tattoos on one of the n," she added. "They’re from an organized group that had been after for years—since before I died."
By "dead," she ant she had faked her death to regain her freedom. In the underground, everyone believed Looney was dead. That had let Lola focus on rebuilding her life. Tonight, however, told her that freedom and peace were gone.
Atlas stayed quiet and listened. When she finished, he reached out and cupped her cheek. Lola smiled. His mouth parted, then closed.
"I’m fine," she reassured him. "I told you this story so you’d know these scratches and bruises are nothing compared to the fights I survived in the cage."
She squeezed his hand again. "If anything, I’m glad I can talk about this with you. You’re still crazy about , right?"
"You can talk about this because I am," he exhaled. "I’m assigning guards to protect you. This won’t happen again."
"Atlas, I can protect myself."
"I know." He blinked slowly. "I know you can. You survived that brutal life back then, and I know your chances of surviving now are high. Still, allow ."
Her brows rose, surprised. She’d expected acknowledgnt, but not his insistence. Lola had always protected herself. All her life, she had to. Sotis even from her own destructive impulses. It was the very reason she let many things slide. Because she knew herself, and when she started seeing red, even Lola didn’t like herself.
Hearing him now, she felt sothing soft inside. Atlas didn’t downplay her skills; he acknowledged them, but still wanted to shield her.
"The people I will assign to your security will stay close, but not so close you’ll notice," he said. "They won’t interfere with your life. You won’t even know they’re there until they’re needed. And tonight will not happen again."
"We’re going to move to my ho," he added, lifting his brows and locking eyes with her. "Do you understand?"
Lola bit her inner bottom lip, ntally scolding herself for blushing. How could she not? The man brought out her softer side just by being composed.
She nodded. "Okay."
"Good." He sighed, scanning her once more. "A doctor is on the way to check you, just in case."
He rose. "Baby just arrived; he’ll guard the door for you. You can rest without worry."
"Are you leaving?"
"I’ll be back tonight." Atlas placed a hand on her head. "I promise."
The corners of her mouth twitched, but she nodded. Atlas turned and walked away. She kept her eyes on his back until he closed the door.
"He’s too calm even in situations like this," she murmured, cupping her cheeks as she smiled. "But still—so manly. Goodness. This is serious, but I’m fangirling over my boyfriend."
As Lola tried to suppress a misplaced squeal, a knock ca at the door. A man in a suit peeked inside to announce the doctor had arrived. The doctor ca in and quickly assessed Lola’s condition.
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What Lola didn’t know was the storm brewing in Atlas’s chest. The second he shut the door, his eyes hardened as he faced the people gathered outside.
"Get Scarlet," he ordered, his face darkening and his jaw tightening. "And wipe out everyone involved in tonight’s incident."
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