“Hmm.” Slade’s eyes narrow. “Is that because you think you’re too angry?”
“Yes,” I answer.
A silver glow grows around his silhouette, and the light in his eyes takes on a threatening edge.
I suddenly sense all of the power that he constrains.
Oddly enough, I don’t find it unsettling. In many ways, it’s calming because I know for a fact that if I even look like I’m about to hurt anyone, he’ll stop me.
“Anger is not itself a bad or dangerous thing,” Slade says. “In fact, you may find people in this place who carry more anger than you do. It’s what you do with your anger that tips the scales one way or the other.”
When I don’t interrupt him, he continues. “From what I heard of Bloodwing Academy, you were encouraged to fight and hurt each other. If you stay here, you will learn discipline andcontrol. You will learn when to use your strength and when to step away from a fight.”
His voice becomes a low murmur that reminds me of a beast even more dangerous than mine. “You’ll also learn what you’re fighting for.”
My own beast is suddenly alert, responding to the threat of true violence that these three men could unleash and the astonishing fact that theydon’t.
My beast’s voice is a whisper in my mind, still weak, but I know he won’t be for long.
You need this, he says with the same conviction in his tone as when he forced me to face my feelings for Peyton.
I can’t disagree with him.
“I want my life back,” I say to Slade, raw honesty making me vulnerable, but—fuck it—it’s the truth. “I want my company back. I want my stepfather out of my life. I want my family name off weapons that kill innocent people. And I want…fuck…”
I grit my teeth as the three Master Assassins wait for me to finish what I have to say.
“I need Peyton in my life,” I growl, “but on her terms and only by her choice, not mine, because I need to be fucking better than I am.”
Fuck.
Feelings. They make me want to swear my fucking head off.
I glare at the pebbled ground, the motley surface, counting the seconds of silence around me before I make myself look up and pretend I didn’t admit any of that.
Slade gives me a dangerous smile. So do Alexei and Cain, and I suddenly wonder what I’m getting myself into.
Slade tips his chin at me. “Welcome to the Legion.”
5. STRIKER DRAVEN
My life for the next six months becomes one of discipline and routine.
Some parts of it are similar to my time at the Academy. I get up at dawn to run around the perimeter, shower, have breakfast, and then I train, but unlike at Bloodwing, training with the Legion is carefully controlled.
I learn how to breathe.
I learn where my body is strong and weak.
I learn what my limits are, and I don’t push them unless I’m ready to.
In the afternoons, I meditate while the other trainees practice their assassin’s magic.
I don’t go anywhere near those damn rings, and I’m surprised—but happy—to learn that only the Master Assassin is allowed to wear his ring inside the Realm, which means I never have to worry about anyone creeping up on me or surprising me.
I learn control and, above all, patience.
When I interact with the latest intake of trainees, many of them with their own anger issues, I find myself holding back, reacting withlessforce, not more, during training.
