“It is true—the Italians and the Spanish have fought for generations. Some of you have lost family to Spanish bullets. Some of them have lost family to ours. That ends at these gates. Discrimination against the Spanish will be punished by the removal of two fingers. No warnings. No exceptions.”
A collective gasp rippled through the ranks.
I didn’t flinch.
They weren’t bluffing. The academy did not tolerate weakness, and I had no intention of testing it.
“Treat everyone as equal. That is rule one.”
Another pause. Weighty.
“And of the forty-four, only two are women. The rest are men.”
I felt their gazes sweep over me and the girl behind me, assessing.
The attention pressed down like a tangible force, thick and uncomfortable, but I did not waver.
My chin stayed high, shoulders relaxed, eyes forward.
Confidence was armor, remember that.
“The women are off-limits,” the voice continued, cold and factual, “in any way, shape, or form. Cameras are everywhere—corridors, dorms, showers, classrooms. Touching them without consent will result in immediate and severe punishment. Rape will be punished by death... and the death of the perpetrator’s entire family. This was made very clear in the contracts you signed. Do not test us. Do not test the rules. Do not test your survival.”
The silence that followed after the warnings settled like a graveyard.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
“There are two lecture halls,” the voice continued, void of warmth. “To your left is the Hall of Shadows. If your number is one through twenty-two, that is your hall. To your right is theCrimson Chamber. Numbers twenty-three through forty-four, you belong there.”
I lowered my gaze to my badge.
Number forty-four.
Dead last.
Fitting, I supposed.
Vincenzo’s order had probably rearranged the roster to place me here deliberately.
Last, but visible.
Crimson Chamber hall.
That was my lot.
“Additional information and schedules will be provided as needed. Good luck, ladies and gentlemen. Proceed to your halls.”
The ranks dissolved like clockwork, bodies peeling off in two directions with robotic efficiency.
My boots scuffed against the gravel as I took a hesitant step forward.
I started walking toward the Crimson Chamber, letting the sound of my own boots echo against the courtyard walls.
“Number Forty-Four.”
The voice cut through the quiet, close this time, and human.
I stopped and turned, because that voice wasn’t coming from the speakers.
