Then again.
And again.
I leave it where it is.
I am not in the mood to ruin my day before it has properly begun. Whoever is trying to reach me is unlikely to have anything pleasant to say.
I step inside the academy and make my way towards the main assembly hall.
The room is already partially filled when I enter. The seats are arranged in rows, and each section is assigned according to dormitory.
Ours, sits at the front on the right side.
I slide into my seat, pull out my book, and flip it open.
A few moments later Ophelia and Octavia arrive.
I lift my head and give the sisters a small nod.
The Bellanti sisters.
Mafia royalty.
Their father is the Bellanti Don in Florence, one of the most powerful figures in the Italian underworld, and everyone knows Octavia is destined to inherit his legacy one day.
And even now, she looks every bit the part. Don’t let the pink hair fool you. I know for a fact Octavia loves her blades and doesn’t hesitate to use them on anyone who deserves it.
Ophelia, however…
If you looked at her without knowing who she was, you would never guess she is mafia. There is something softer about her, something too good to belong to this tainted world of ours.
With her white hair, Ophelia is a striking contrast to Octavia. They don’t look much alike, and as I said, even their natures are different.
Ophelia is an angel.
Octavia is one too. Just the fallen sort.
The assembly begins shortly afterwards.
The headmistress steps onto the stage and speaks into the microphone, welcoming everyone back for the new semester.
She has barely been speaking for five minutes when the doors at the back of the hall open.
The sound echoes through the room.
Nearly everyone turns to look.
Adelaide walks down the aisle towards us. Her dark curls fall loose over her shoulders, and she is wearing her usual leather jacket, moving confidently.
She reaches our row and takes the empty seat beside me.
“Hi,” she murmurs.
The look Octavia sends Adelaide makes me wonder whether she is imagining starting a fight right here and now.
Adelaide notices it, of course.
The small, wicked smile she sends in Octavia’s direction makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
