The man himself had vanished.
No warning.
I was inside the gates, and suddenly the reality hit me: I was on my own.
Here, no one kept records.
No one cared if a recruit survived or not.
Fail, and you weren’t sent home. You were simply... erased.
Tossed into the lake, swallowed by the shadows of the island, forgotten like you’d never existed.
Goosebumps rose across my arms as I looked around the courtyard, the massive stone buildings looming over me like silent sentinels.
I drew in a breath, steadying myself, letting the fear twist into focus.
I had seen Renzo yesterday, just as Vincenzo had instructed, and I had asked him to find me something—any task, any role that could prove I belonged in this world, that I was more than a name on a ring.
Renzo. Third in command. Underboss.
The man whose face I had rearranged with my fists the day he had tried to murder me to prevent Vincenzo from marrying a “nobody.”
I could still feel the satisfying crunch of my elbow against his cheekbone, the wet shock of impact, the way his body had collapsed like a ragdoll.
Renzo had appeared without announcement, emerging from the shadows like a gladiator resurrected.
Bandages wrapped around his head, the white gauze stark against the dark bruising still visible beneath, made him look like a half-mummified soldier from some ancient arena.
Only his eyes were fully visible, black fire smoldering in the one not swollen shut.
Renzo had made it brutally clear: before I could earn a place in the family, before I could prove myself or take on any real work, I had to survive the Black Veil Society Academy.
He’d ranted for what felt like hours about the dangers within those walls—how most who entered never walked out alive, how the training broke even the strongest, how a single mistake could mean disappearance, or worse.
He had tried to scare me, insisting I was better off as a housewife, cozy and safe, a trophy wife with nothing to risk.
But I liked challenges.
I always had.
I had spent my life running, surviving, testing limits, pushing myself into impossible situations and coming out bloodied but unbroken.
So when he asked, when he dared me to step into the fire of the Black Veil Society Academy, I didn’t hesitate.
I had accepted immediately, even knowing the risk.
Even knowing I could very well die.
Two burly male students barreled past me, sprinting toward the left wing of the academy, their boots kicking up gravel and echoing sharply against the stone walls.
The sudden movement yanked me out of my reverie, reminding me I was still inside these walls, still standing a few meters from the gate that loomed behind me like a warning.
I began to move forward, my steps deliberate, eyes sweeping over everything I could see.
The academy ran on a rigid, unbroken cycle: one year.
Twelve months of fire, of trial, of being stretched to limits.
