Raffaele led me to the far side of the training room, gently steering me away from my sister. He assured me that Christina was in good hands with Michael, but despite his words, I couldn’t help the gnawing worry in my chest. I kept stealing glances in her direction, just to make sure she was alright. Each time I did, I noticed her doing the same, though her eyes were laced with nervousness.

Sensing my distraction, Raffaele placed his hands lightly on my shoulders and turned me around so my back was to her.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice calm but authoritative. “Focus on our training. Christina can manage without you for a while. She has to.” He paused, his tone softening as he continued. “She’ll need to learn how to survive on her own, Andrea. You can’t always be there to protect her.”

I sighed, knowing he was right. The thought of her being on her own sent a pang through my heart, but I understood. There would be times when I couldn’t shield her, times when she’d have to rely on her own strength. Had we been married into different families, she would’ve been all alone.

That’s one thing I will always be grateful for—our marriages within the same family. It gave us a rare opportunity to stay close, to look out for each other. In our world, that was a blessing. Many others weren’t so lucky. To be wed to men who weren’t abusers, who weren’t cruel or controlling, was more than most could hope for.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a light, playful punch on my shoulder. Raffaele stood in front of me, hands raised in a fighting stance, feet planted firmly apart. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Come on, Andrea. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he challenged, throwing two mock punches into the air. “No holding back.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. This was a rare chance—an opportunity to throw punches at him without any real consequences.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m fast.” I mirrored his stance, my feet spread apart, fists raised defensively in front of my face. My shoulders were squared, ready.

Without hesitation, I opened with a solid punch aimed at his midsection, but Raffaele blocked it with ease. He quickly countered with a jab toward my face, but I dodged it effortlessly. I wasn’t bluffing when I said I was fast.

This was going to be fun.

Raffaele’s eyes glinted with amusement as he backed up slightly, testing my reactions. He was enjoying this, but I knew better than to drop my guard. He might be playful now, but Raffaele had a way of shifting gears quickly.

"Nice dodge," he said, circling me slowly. "But let’s see if you can keep up."

He lunged forward with a series of swift strikes aimed at my torso and shoulders. I blocked the first few, sidestepping to create some distance, but one punch slipped through and grazed my ribs. The sting jolted me into a sharper focus.

“Not bad,” I muttered, grinning despite the hit. “But I’m just getting warmed up.”

I retaliated with a combination of quick jabs, mixing in a low kick aimed at his thigh. He blocked the punches but had to pivot to avoid the kick, his grin widening as he realized I wasn’t holding back. The game was on.

Raffaele was faster than I’d anticipated, deflecting most of my strikes and responding with his own flurry of attacks. Each time I blocked or evaded, I could see a flicker of approval in his expression. He was testing me, pushing me to my limits, but not overwhelming me. Yet.

We traded blows back and forth for several minutes, the sound of fists hitting flesh and the shuffle of feet echoing in the room. My body moved on instinct, years of training guiding my every action, but it wasn’t just muscle memory. I had improved, and I knew it. My reflexes were sharper, my movements more fluid. Even as I fought, I could feel a sense of pride growing.

“Good,” Raffaele said after deflecting another one of my punches. “You’re faster than before, more precise.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I shot back, aiming a roundhouse kick toward his side. He blocked it just in time, but the force made him take a step back.

He laughed, a low sound filled with approval. “I’m not surprised. I’m impressed.”

I wasn’t done yet. I feinted to the left, throwing a light punch, and when he moved to block, I used the opening to deliver a solid punch to his midsection. The hit connected, and Raffaele staggered back slightly, eyes widening in surprise before he quickly recovered.

“Alright,” he said, still grinning. “You’ve got some real power behind that.”

Before I could respond, he came at me with renewed intensity, his movements faster and more calculated. He wasn’t holding back anymore. His strikes were precise, each one designed to test my endurance and reaction time. I dodged and blocked as best as I could, but he was relentless, pushing me harder than before.

My breath came in short bursts, my muscles starting to burn from the exertion. I could feel sweat trickling down my back, but I refused to give in. This was the challenge I needed. If I could handle Raffaele at his best, I could handle anything.

Finally, after what felt like hours of back-and-forth sparring, Raffaele stepped back, lowering his fists. His breathing was steady, but I could see the sheen of sweat on his brow. He was pleased.

“You’re really fast and precise,” he said, his voice steady but laced with satisfaction. “If you keep this up, you might just be able to take me down one day.”

I smiled, feeling the familiar surge of accomplishment wash over me. “Maybe I'm already stronger than you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. " Maybe so. But don't tell that to my men.”

As I caught my breath, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder toward Christina. She was still training with Michael, but something in her posture made me pause. She seemed tense, her movements stiff and uncertain. My instinct to protect her flared up again.

Raffaele noticed the direction of my gaze and sighed softly. “She’s fine, Andrea. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“I know,” I replied, though my heart still tightened with concern. “But I can’t help it.”

He stepped closer, his tone softening. “She’ll get there, just like you have. You can’t always be her shield.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. Christina had her own path to walk, and I had mine. But still, as I turned back to face Raffaele, I silently vowed to keep an eye on her. After all, no matter how much we trained, we were still sisters.