Page 6 of Trapping His Assassin

“Valentina,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “I assume you know why I’ve called you here.”

“No, sir,” I replied, my voice calm and even. I had learned long ago that showing emotion in front of him was a mistake.

Flashes of the nights he made me serve him tried to flow into my mind, but I had too much discipline to focus on my trauma. I was one of the best teachers this Academy had ever seen.

“Your uncle needs you.”

I blinked at him as he sat behind his desk. I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He reached for his reading glasses and sat them on his face. This jail cell had been in his family for generations.

To the unobservant eye, he was a nice grandfather who took in all the wayward girls, until they were of age to marry and benefit their families. That was how he appealed to the organizations that didn’t treat their females with disrespect. The ones who checked in on their charges. Those families were unaffected by the underbelly of the school. But make no mistake, there was a dark side to this facility. At several family nights,I’d overheard him bragging to his cronies about how he trained the young girls into becoming proper wives for their respective organizations.

The walls of The Academy bore the marks of years of neglect and terror. The girls cowered together, afraid to speak up against Headmaster Mikhail, who abused his power to victimize them. As women, we were trapped, with no escape from this horrific cycle. Even those who managed to leave were too terrified to come forward, and expose the horrors they endured under his leadership.

They had daughters as well. He threatened to snatch them in the middle of the night, like some boogeyman, so no one spoke. They moved on. The cycle continued. Some of these children, rejected and neglected by society, understood the true terror of this place better than anyone else. While others looked away, or made up reasons for the screams in the middle of the night.

It was different for me. I’d trained with the Italians, so sometimes during my teaching hours, I executed some odd “missions” over the years for the headmaster. I helped the young ladies be better wives during the day, and my nights were taken over by whatever the school demanded of me.

When I didn’t give any response, he rose from his chair.

“Get on all fours.”

Familiar with the routine, I didn’t resist. Instead, I lowered my gaze and fixated on the ground below me. This was a sacrifice I made to protect the younger girls. Headmaster Mikhail only had so much stamina. I willingly became his slave, and did everything he wished of me, so that he would keep his slimy hands off the children.

His touch made my skin crawl, and I tried focusing on something else.

Trapped in a job I despised, I tried to keep it together for the girls, and my students. Many of them were like sisters to me.Some I’d lost to this hellish nightmare. For some, their families claimed them back for eligible marriage, but my uncle never even contacted The Academy for a progress update.

The teachers kept an eye on all the girls aged twelve and under. I couldn’t protect all of the sixteen-year-olds. The girls in their teens still fought him. But after a few rounds of training, their screams stopped haunting the halls.

He squeezed me tighter, and bile rose in my throat as my anxiety crept higher. I couldn’t throw up, not again, not after what happened last time. I prayed to anyone who would listen that he would finish soon, just as he clenched me tighter to his body like I was a prized possession he didn’t want to let go of.

He grunted in my ear as he finished inside of me. I wrinkled my nose as his funk imprinted itself onto my skin. Gagging, I stood on shaky legs, fixing my clothes, and ready to leave now that he’d finished with me. Recently, he’d been less violent in our sessions. He caressed me like a lover, and I grew more and more fearful as to what those actions meant.

“Remember what will happen if you breathe a word of what goes on behind these walls,” he warned. “Isadora was just the beginning. Don’t tempt me to go after Elodie too.”

Elodie wasn’t even close to eighteen yet. She was sixteen and not the youngest of the girls, but surely the most innocent. I opened my mouth to speak, but his hand met the side of my face in an openhanded slap, stopping my response.

“Remember your place,” he hollered.

I snapped back into position, my head bowed, waiting for him to dismiss me, the feeling of bugs all over my skin.

“Pack and get ready to leave before the sun rises.”

I stood once again and went to leave his office, glad to be free of the chamber of horrors. My hand was on the knob when he dropped one final bomb on me.

“Bring Isadora to me. It’s time to restart her training.”

Horror ran through me. Isa was only seventeen. She went missing a few years ago and hasn’t been the same since. Her family placed her here until it was time for her marriage, which would be soon. She’s the perfect wife. Sunshine and rainbows all day with that one. But I still loved her.

She was my sister in all the ways that mattered, not by blood. The fact that he wanted me to bring her to him was another slap in the face.

A shudder went through me. I wanted to disobey him. But if I didn’t bring Isa to him, then it would be Olivia. She was only eleven.

As I stormed out of his office, my eyes stung with unshed tears, but I refused to let him see me crumble. I marched down the hallway and into the gym area, where Isadora was running on the treadmill. Ignoring her curious gaze, I pressed the red emergency button on her machine, bringing it to a sudden halt. Her footing faltered. She caught herself against the handrails, and as she turned to face me, I could see the mix of frustration and shame in her.

“What the hell, Valentina?” she snapped, yanking the earbuds from her ears, and I flinched. She turned to face me. “Are you running another sewing class?”

I shook my head no. Isa could easily read the equal parts anger and frustration on my face. She had a knack for doing that. She knew what was coming, and that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I couldn’t speak.

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