Being Saved

Chapter 16 - Hands Off

Katerina's POV

Let's just say that the last few hours have been... interesting, to say the least.

The car ride over to the mall wasn't terrible, although I spent the majority of the time sulking in the backseat as the twins and Lorenzo peppered me with irrelevant questions about my driving capabilities.

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"Oh, come on," I whine as I watch my brothers getting into the car.

"No," they all said in unison.

"Y'all sound like a broken record," I grumble under my breath as I try to steal the front passenger seat.

"Nope," Santiago chuckles as he lifts me from the seat before placing me in the back and sliding in behind me.

"Ugh," I groan. "I don't get it. Why can't I drive?" I pout.

"You and I both know what Michele said the other day about you not being allowed to ride the motorcycle until you get your license, and I'm pretty sure that that applies to the cars as well," Lorenzo notes, giving me a pointed look before pulling out of the underground garage and heading towards the front gates.

"It's never stopped me before," I grumble under my breath, although from the looks that the three share before staring at me, they obviously heard.

"What?" I question, faking innocence.

"Katie, you're only 15. That's barely enough for a learner's permit," Christiano notes, scrunching his brows. "How long have you been driving?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. "Illegally, I might add."

"Long enough to drive circles around you," I grumble lowly, receiving a small chuckle from Santiago.

"How long, mini?" Lorenzo asks curiously, turning to glance at me in the rear-view mirror before turning back to the road.

"Since I was 12," I shrug.

"And your mother let you do this?" Christiano asked incredulously as his eyes widened.

I narrow my eyes at the mention of my so-called mother before feeling my lips pull into a scowl. "Like that bitch ever cared what I did," I sneered. Taking a deep breath, I continue in a calmer tone, "I never said that she knew about it, besides I wasn't driving her car. Plus, she isn't the one who taught me to drive," I clarify.

"Well, who taught you to drive then?"

"Uncle Vik," I hesitantly responded.

"Who?" they all ask, sending me puzzled looks.

Leaning my head against the headrest, I close my eyes before answering. "He's not really my uncle, of course, but he was the closest thing that I actually had to a parental figure that actually gave two shits about me. Uncle Vik is D's dad," I note. Opening my eyes, I turn my head to watch the scenery flash past before continuing. "They were more my family than my mother and stepfather ever were." Facing my brothers again, I glance at each of the boys' faces before commenting, "Apart from you guys, that is."

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And that's how I found myself at the mall going from store to store as my youngest three older brothers expect me to spend ridiculous amounts of my money on things that I don't need. It's beyond ridiculous, really. A ludicrous idea. If I see something I like or even show the slightest indication of interest in an item they immediately grab the item and insist that we buy it even when I protest since a) I don't need it, b) it's expensive, or at least I'm the only one here that seems to care about the price, and c) I feel bad about spending their money.