5

For two years, I’ll live with my enemies. I’ll watch. I’ll learn. I will show them I’m a threat, and they will fear me.

For Sean. For Father. For our family business.

While we drive to the private airstrip where the jet is waiting to take me to Switzerland, I stare down at my hands.

I feel Cillian’s gaze on me, and forcing a smile to my lips, I lift my head to look at him. He gives me a lopsided grin, but it’s tainted by the worry he feels about me leaving home. “Remember there are six syndicate groups. The Custodians, consisting of the best protectors. You’ll train with them.”

I nod. “My goal is to break Demitiri Vetrov’s records.” 

Demitri became a legend during his time at St. Monarch's. Now he protects the top assassin in the world, Alexei Koslov, making them an unbeatable team. I need to be better than them because right now, we don’t stand a chance if they are hired to come after us. The thought makes my jaw clench and my top lip curl up. 

Cillian nods, then he continues, “It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to hurt because none of the custodians in training will hold back just because you’re a woman. They all have the same goal. To become the best.” 

I swallow hard, fear slithering into my heart. I have no idea what to expect. 

Cillian’s eyes darken with worry as he says, “The other five syndicates consist of Arms, Assassins, Smugglers, Cartels, and the Bravta. Only the wealthiest crime families get to attend, so they can cultivate the specific set of skills needed to run their family businesses. There’s only one rule – no killing. So at least there’s that.”

I nod while memorizing everything he’s telling me. After all, knowledge is power.

When the jeep stops right by the private jet, I wait for Cillian to open my door. My eyes continuously scan over my surroundings as I step out of the vehicle, and I tug at the bulletproof vest that’s tightly wrapped around my chest. It matches my black pants and boots, which I like to think of as my combat outfit. I want to dress up as much as the next girl, but that’s only for special occasions.  

My spine is stiff as I ascend the stairs with Cillian right behind me. Once I’m safely inside the plane, I let out a breath of relief. 

Six hours and I’ll enter the safety of St. Monarch’s. A lot can happen in six hours, but at least I have Cillian with me.

Pulling the gun from behind my back, I set it down on the seat beside me. I unstrap the vest and take a deep breath as I place it next to my firearm. Cillian does the same where he’s seated across from me.

“Are you sure, poppet?” he asks.

Our eyes meet, and knowing it’s useless trying to hide my feelings from him, I say, “Even though I’m terrified of the unknown, I have to do it.”

“I’ll be right outside St. Monarch’s,” he assures me again. Our guards aren’t allowed on the premises. I guess it’s to ensure everyone’s safety.

This time a genuine smile tugs at my mouth. “Yeah, at least I’ll have you there.”

As the jet begins to move, I lean my head back and stare out the window.

It’s just two years, Winter. You have to do this for your family.

 

DAMIEN

Standing in my personal quarters, I cross my arms over my chest as I watch everyone arrive at the academy. 

St. Monarch’s has been my home for the past twenty-two months. As the best protector in training, I will be paired with the top assassin when I graduate. I won’t settle for anyone else but Carson. It’s my only goal. The bidding date hasn’t been announced yet, though, and I’m growing impatient to be free of this place.

I watch as Adrian Vincent climbs out of his armored jeep. He’s Carson’s competition and probably the first one I’ll kill the instant we step outside the gates of St. Monarch’s. There are four assassins in training right now, and they’re taught to live by a code – don’t kill for sport.

But Adrian’s different. I see the thirst for blood in his eyes. It’s not about the money for him. Once he starts killing, it will be for pleasure, and he’ll try to take out the competition first. He’s arrogant enough to believe he could actually succeed in killing Carson. 

Another armored jeep pulls up, and I watch as an older man climbs out of the driver’s side. He walks around the vehicle to open the passenger door for someone. A flash of red draws my attention, and then my gaze locks on the woman getting out of the jeep. St. Monarch’s only allows you to attend once you’re over twenty-one, so she must be of age even though she looks younger. 

When the woman turns around and stares up at the windows, my gaze narrows. Winter Hemsley. She’s even more beautiful than I heard. 

The man, who’s probably her personal guard, says something to her, and it makes her smile. I watch as they hug each other, and then she takes a couple of steps away from the jeep as her guard climbs back in the vehicle to leave.

Winter moves with grace, and my eyes take in her petite curves, clearly visible under the tight-fitting black pants and shirt, before settling on her face again.

Her gaze sweeps over the buildings and grounds, on guard and ready to defend herself should a threat appear.

The sight of her makes my heartbeat speed up a little, and it has the corner of my mouth curving up. Not many women manage to elicit any kind of emotion in me. Then again, Winter Hemsley is no ordinary woman. She’s the Blood Princess. One of the heirs to the Hemsley’s smuggling empire. Her grandfather orchestrated the massacre of many villages in Africa. Ruthlessness runs in her veins. 

A merciless beauty radiates from her, designed to bring men to their knees for her to walk over, using them as stepping stones in her climb to the top.

Another car pulls up, which belongs to Vince Blanco. I tilt my head as I watch the two enemies come face to face. The Blanco family had Rose Hemsley, Winter’s mother, assassinated. Winter was also shot during the attack, and the Hemsley family has lived in hiding ever since.

But still, here she is. The breathtakingly beautiful Blood Princess who survived an assassination attempt. It’s a rare sight indeed.

Winter and Vince lock eyes, and I’m surprised when Vince is the first to walk away. It looks like he’s chuckling.

Winter's gaze follows Vince until he enters the building, and the hatred turning her face to stone makes a smile form around my lips. She’s got fire. I’ll give her that.

I keep watching as one armored jeep after the other pulls up. Hours later, when the last attendee has arrived, I turn away from the window, not happy that twenty-one people will be attending St. Monarch’s. I’m going to miss the peace and quiet from when it was just nine of us. Hopefully, I won’t be here for much longer.

There’s still three hours until Madame Keller, the architect of St. Monarch’s, gives the welcome speech at dinner. Grabbing my hand tape, I walk out of my room and start to wrap the fabric around my fingers, palms, and wrists. I don’t look up as I make my way to the gym. 

Soft murmurs fill the hallways as all the new attendees make their way to their assigned quarters. St. Monarch’s Academy used to be a castle built in the late seventeen hundreds. It’s situated right outside Geneva, and although the furnishings have been renovated, the wooden floors creak with every step.