Three Gangs and a Silver Sin

Chapter 33, Glitter and cold

"If I recall correctly, I won you quite thoroughly in our last training session," I remind Falco.

"Let me refresh your memory," Falco smiles - crossing his arms across his exposed chest.

"Let's go through the routine first," Gareth sighs.

"Gareth, have you heard anything from my father yet?" I ask, because it's been eating at me.

"No, Miss. Trebor hasn't sent another message. It's still just the one where he says he'll see us at the masquerade," my second in command answers.

"What if he's not my father?" I ask.

"What do you think?" Gareth replies.

I don't answer him. Inside, I feel it in my bones that I'll see my father at that masquerade. I just know it. But, it could be an impostor? I never saw my father's body, but what if somehow someone hacked his phone? 

Then why do I have this bone-deep feeling I'm seeing my father?

When I shake my head and visibly dismiss all thoughts, Falco and I nod to each other before starting our warm-up. Jump-rope, push-ups, short sprints and our favorite: punching the hard wall to strengthen our knuckles. By the time we get to actually fight, we're both panting and our muscles itch.

Each morning I mix it up. Yesterday, I punched him first, so today, I send a fake punch and resort to a low kick. Falco avoids the kick and comes back with a swing of his own, but I duck low and aim a jab at his side, he dances around the attack, but misses the swipe of my legs that I have waiting for him. Falco stumbles and I use the opportunity to rain my fists down. All through it, Gareth shouts instructions at both of us.

When our three hours are done, Gareth dismisses us with a gruff voice.

"I can use some breakfast right about now," Gareth pants.

I scold the girl inside that wants to make a lame knuckle-sandwich joke right now.

"What... what do you and your father think about my engagement with Blake? You two originally come from Sterling on the first place, so I guess you'll have a better opinion on the matter," I say to Gareth.

The dark-skinned boy smiles, but doesn't look at me as he dabs his towel over his chest. "I think it can go both ways," he admits, "On the one hand, it sends out a powerful message that we're strong within. That we don't need help like useless children. It'll protect us from matches with potentially ill intentions after getting you."

Gareth's words make me feel at ease, but then he adds: "Though on the other hand, no gang can survive on it's own. Marriage is for uniting. In a way, we can't exactly call ourselves a gang. We're not like the scruffy fools from Europe that steal and smoke together and think that makes them a gang. We're not like the always-high murderers from America or the rapers from Africa. What we are comes a long way and calling ourselves a gang is just the easiest term," Gareth explains.

I take it all in. How it makes sense.

Whatever we are, we're not like what I pictured gangs to be. What I've heard from the news or read in the papers. We're... bigger.

Still out of breath, I grab a towel and wipe at my sweat as well while making my way to the kitchen. As expected, Sean is sitting with his bawl of cereal waiting. That guy is getting bleaker by the day. I can't have my gang getting weak.

Or your friend, that girl whispers inside. 

"Good morning, Sean," Falco greats when he swaggers in and grabs a carton of milk from the fridge.