“This whole challenge is shite,” Liam said sourly. “It’s going to tear us apart like a bear in the maternity ward.”
There’s silence for a minute as we all try to unravel what he just said.
“What would a bear be doing in a maternity ward?” Mala asks.
Liam’s chewing a sausage so his answer is less than clear. Once he’s finished breakfast, we find that he’s recruited Jun and Mala for his team. Meiying is not so lucky.
“Fucking Baptiste Fournier cornered me before I could get upstairs to my room,” she scowled. “I hate that guy.”
None of us like Fournier, his cousin Camille Boucher being my former roommate who nearly kidnapped and killed Tati. His story that his father’s mob was not involved in the plot last year was apparently persuasive enough to keep his place at theAcademy. That doesn’t mean any of us believe him. The Fournier Mob quietly absorbed what was left of the Boucher soldiers after the Alsanov Bratva ripped the family apart.
“Leif Aaberg said he was looking for you,” Jun said, “Fournier must have been crouching there like a spider for hours, trying to catch you before you got upstairs. Do you want me to kill him? Nothing overt,” he says innocently as we stare at him. “Something simple. A light poisoning.”
“You’re so sweet!” Meiying said with absolutely no irony, smiling fondly at her twin brother, “But this isn’t like Copenhagen. And that was a sloppy dose, the man bled from his eyes. Let’s just see how this goes.”
The table’s silent for a moment, aside from the light ‘clinks’ of silverware on china.
Finishing his tea, Jun scoffs, grabbing his backpack. “Like you don’t all do it. Acting shocked, you big babies. See you later.” He walks off, whistling.
“There is a rich history with you two, isn’t there?” Lucca asked Meiying.
She smiles innocently, taking a huge bite of her croissant.
Chapter Twelve
In which Konstantin “outs” Mariya.
Konstantin…
Two days later…
Training Mariya’s group in Combat class is harder than I expected. Not because I handle her with kid gloves - I don’t - but when anyone else throws her or lands a punch, I want to tear their head off.
“Suarez!” I bark, “You keep looking to your left! You’re leaving your right flank open.”
Marshdown knocks him to the mat after catching him in his blind spot.
Serves him right.
“Mr. Turgenev,” Professor Zimmerman calls, “join me on the mat.”
Mariya is standing next to Aaberg, who’s going to get his nuts ripped off his body if he moves any closer to her. She didn’t tell me he tried to recruit her for his team, but I heard him complain to his friends about it. He’s leaning in to whisper something to her…
“Mr. Turgenev! Attend to me.” Zimmerman does not like repeating himself.
“My apologies, professor,” I move faster, joining him and trying to focus.
“I want to demonstrate a move that, if done properly, will disable your opponent in three steps…”
Shit, I know this one and it’s nasty. Planting my feet, I pay attention as he swings his left arm. Zimmerman won’t pull any punches. I barely pull out of the way in time and he sweeps my feet out from under me with dizzying speed. The next move will be an elbow to my ribs as I’m coming up, slightly off-balance so I roll twice to be out of range before getting to my feet. Mariya and Aaberg are in my peripheral vision - is that fucker putting his arm around her?
I can hear the crack of my ribs breaking as Zimmerman’s elbow comes down like a hammer. The pain hits next, searing like a red-hot poker shoved into my side.
“Mr. Turgenev!” he shouts, “Were you paying any attention to the third step in this maneuver?”
“Not enough, apparently,” I manage between gritted teeth.
“This is what happens when your attention slips for even a second,” he says to the rest of the class. Trust him to take breaking my ribs and turning it into a teaching moment.
