“You’re weak,” he mutters. “You flinch before I even hit you.”
I straighten. “That won’t last.”
Tex’s eyes flick over me. “You sure about that?”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I won’t break,” I say through my teeth.
He looks at me for a beat longer than necessary. Something flickers in his gaze — not approval. Not sympathy. Just… interest.
Then he turns away without a word.
I’m notsure what I expected from Advanced Strategic Theory, but I feel like I’m not supposed to be there. I have to sit through pages of tactical jargon and theoretical scenarios that I barely understand. The instructor is a former guild tactician, and she speaks like everyone already has ten years of espionage experience. And who knows, maybe the boys do. I take frantic notes while Dakota takes neat bullet points next to me. Jace has his chin resting on his hand, Noah is engaged, and Luca keeps shooting me winks. Tex is so relaxed he might’ve been asleep if his eyes aren’t open.
And if I thought Advanced Strategic Theory was overwhelming, GuildEthics & History is infuriating. It is a crash course in the Guild’s past – coups, betrayals, and oaths scrawled in blood.
I mean, really, who knew a thieves’ guild would need to have an ethics class?
By the time I drag my sore body down the hall to the last door on my schedule, I’m hanging by a thread. My arms ache from drills with Tex. My brain throbs from Strategy and Ethics. All I want is to curl into bed and sleep for a week.
FIELD TRAINING
Lovely.
The moment I step inside, I know I’m in trouble.
The room looks more like a war room than a classroom. Thick maps line the walls. Gear lockers stand open along the back, displaying grappling hooks, lock picks, and other tools I don’t have names for. A weapons rack stretches along the far side, full of training blades and blunt staffs.
And they are all there. Again.
There are others, too. But they don’t matter.
A tall woman with a buzzcut and a scar down her throat claps her hands. “On your feet. Field prep begins now. If you’re tired, good. You’ll be worse in the real world.”
I stiffen.
She points at me. “New girl. You’re last on the roster. You’ll be the runner today.”
“Runner?” I echo.
“You’ll find out.”
Everyone else is already moving, collecting packs, tools, gear I’ve never touched. I hesitate for a beat too long and someone shoves a bag into my arms.
“Try not to get lost, Ashthorne,” Jace mutters as he passes, his voice just loud enough for others to hear.
I swallow my pride, clutching the straps tighter, and step into line.
Whatever this is… it isn’t school anymore. It’s boot camp.
The instructor’s voice cracks like a whip through the tension in the room.
“Today’s drill is a live simulation.”
Whispers spread. Packs shuffle.
“You have five minutes to gear up. Runners will deliver the objective. Guards will keep them from doing so. Roles are randomized.”
A screen flickers on behind her. Names began to shuffle.
