Yelping, I look up at Camilla, who’s glaring at me with her hands on her hips.“Fille,have you heard a single thing I’ve been saying to you?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, “what?”
“I said that our Torture and Interrogation test is next week. Have you been studying any of the techniques?”
“Um…” I try to remember what I’ve read. “Yes.”
We’re sitting in the ancient library, one of the most beautiful buildings on campus with Gothic-style arches and beautifully carved shelves crammed with priceless books. There are five massive fireplaces scattered through the building and it’s always a little chilly, to protect the delicate, ancient reading material. It’s always been one of my favorite places here, where I could hide from all the drama and anxiety always raging through the campus.
She shakes her head sadly. “You are a mess. The R TI test is serious,fille, you need to be ready. Students flunk out of the Academy for failing to pass this test.”
I only have until the end of the school year before any semblance of choice in my life is gone. What does it matter?
“I’ll be ready,” I promise.
“All right,” she says, still watching me with concern. “Let me know if you want to study together.”
“Thank you,” I force a smile, watching her obvious relief. “I’ll be… you know. I’ll be fine.”
Leaving the library, I head for the shooting range. One of the only things that can mute my internal screams is shooting the sniper rifles. Putting on the headphones silences the outside world and then it’s assemble the weapon, determine the length of pull between the butt and the trigger, adjust the scope, load the ammunition, and sight the target.
Taking out moving targets is my new skill. The intensity of the focus required wipes my mind clear of anything else. For a little while, at least, my heart and brain are blissfully blank.
When I finally run out of my ammunition allotment, it’s dark outside.
“While I appreciate your dedication to your craft, even a perfectionist needs to take a break sometimes.” Professor Suarez steps into my shooting booth, looking at the digital readout for my session. “You still had a ninety percent accuracy score with five mph wind resistance on a moving target? That’s very well done, Miss Aslanova.” He glanced at me, his keen brown eyes examining me. “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well, rest is essential to keeping your focus.”
I don’t bother telling him that I wake up at 3:36 every morning and usually can’t get back to sleep. Or how I creep into the library and sit on one of the couches, staring sightlessly at a book. “I’m fine,” I mumble, nodding firmly like that’s totally going to sell it.
Folding his arms, he watches me closely. “You know, Dr. Giardo can give sleeping aids if you’re really having trouble getting your rest. The Academy is a very demanding school.”
The gossip network here is far too thorough for Suarez not to have heard of my sudden engagement, but I appreciate the effort he’s making. “Thank you, sir. I’ll just clean up here and be on my way.”
He’s frowning, and it’s oddly comforting to see his obvious concern. “You’re one of my best students, Miss Aslanova. But it is also very easy to get seriously injured if your focus is off when you’re handling firearms. My office door is always open if you feel like you need to discuss…” he hesitates, “anything.”
Finding a real smile for him, I say, “Thank you. Truly. I’ve looked up to you since the first day of class and I appreciate you taking me under your wing when I was essentially useless at… well, everything here. I hope I can make you proud of me.”
“I already am,” he patted my shoulder. “I hear you’ll be leaving at the end of the school year. That’s a shame, I think you show great promise.”
“That’s the nicest thing you could possibly say to me. Thank you, professor, really.” I’d like to say something else. Like how I want to stay. How for the first time in my life I believe I have something to offer other than my Bratva Princess position and ability to bear heirs. None of that matters, though. Clearing my throat, I nod. “Goodnight, sir.”
“Get the fuck out of bed!”
There’s a bright light blinding me as someone yanks me off my mattress, landing with a thump on the floor. I reflexively kick out, hitting something solid and hearing a curse.
“Serves you right asshole,” another voice says.
A bag is yanked over my head and I violently head-butt the assailant behind me. Another curse. “Now who’s laughing,asshole?”
They zip-tie my hands and ankles with impressive speed, there must be three people holding me down to get it done. I let out a scream that makes my vocal cords rattle, and this time they all laugh. “Scream all you want, no one’s coming.”
I struggle and writhe against them until they drop me onto the floor, jarring my ribs. “We can roll you down the fucking stairs or you can hold still. Your choice.”
If you’re outnumbered during an attack, save your strength,Lucca had instructed me once,try to determine the enemy’s numbers and pay attention to your surroundings.
After nodding reluctantly, I’m thrown over someone’s shoulder. I count the number of steps, knowing we’re out of my room now, then the suite. There are sixteen steps from the second floor to the first, and then the cold air hits me as we leave the building. I’m in my sleep shorts and a tank top. I don’t hear any guards shouting, so we must not be heading for the gates at the main entrance.
The man carrying me breaks into a brisk jog, which slams me painfully up and down on his shoulder and I grit my teeth until I hear another door open and it’s warmer again. Then there are more stairs, going down this time and it gets chillier as we descend.
