The moment I was inside, I leaned back into the seat and let myself sink into it.
As far as it would allow.
My body immediately protested.
Every joint screamed. Every bruise pulsed.
I closed my eyes.
Just for a second.
Tried to breathe.
In.
Out.
The car started moving almost immediately.
The outside world blurred past the tinted windows as we pulled out of the academy grounds.
And then—there was silence.
The kind that gave your thoughts too much space to breathe.
We had barely covered a few hundred meters—still within sight of the academy’s outer gates—when the atmosphere inside the SUV shifted.
It was subtle at first.
A tightening of the air.
A change in rhythm.
Then the soldier’s voice cut through the low hum of the engine.
“Signora...” he said, his tone initially controlled, professional—trained. “There are strange cars behind us.”
His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror.
Tension crept into his voice despite his effort to contain it.
“Three of them. Moving too fast.”
A pause.
“I’m reporting this.”
His wrist lifted immediately toward his mouth, thumb pressing the comms button as he prepared to transmit.
Something in his tone—something in the timing—made my chest tighten.
I pushed myself upright in the backseat.
The movement tore through my injuries instantly.
A sharp, brutal stab of pain lanced through my ribs.
My breath caught—but I forced myself through it anyway.
