Page 8 of Trapping His Assassin

A fitting punishment in his eyes.

Organizations from around the globe sent their daughters here to prepare them for marriage. Some wanted to protect them from the hard life of their syndicates, while others had no use for them until they came of age. Then they would form a beneficial alliance, and push out heirs. The cycle would continue.

At least that’s the facade Headmaster Mikhail and the other teachers portrayed. Girls who grew too old and never married, turned to sisterhood, helping Headmaster Mikhail cover his lies. They were broken beyond repair. The victims became the perpetrators.

I stepped off the plane, and immediately spotted the bodyguard doubling as a driver, holding a sign bearing my name. I approached him, and he lowered the sign in one hand, while the other went into his suit jacket.

Would he pull a gun on me?

If he did, I would have to incapacitate him. I tried the sweet approach first.

“Valentina Ricci?” The man stood before me, his gaze sweeping over my disheveled appearance.

“That’s me.” I shot him a flirtatious grin.

He was unmoved. “Your uncle is waiting. Let’s go.”

I went and claimed my bag. Headmaster Mikhail didn’t allow us to have anything frivolous. At The Academy, the teachers weren’t allowed anything of their own. When a mission was forced on me, however, everything was provided. Otherwise, we shared everything.

Before, Headmaster Mikhail had teachers in training, who would upkeep the school, but they always seemed to have accidents or family emergencies. The ones that were here now were outcasts, rejects, and orphans, whose families had connections to The Life.

He eventually did away with the program, and made any young woman that suited his fancy a teacher’s aide underneath his tutelage. Which was why I couldn’t trust most of them. They were deep in his pockets, which was a sadder fate.

The driver didn’t give me his name. He led me to a black town car and held the door open. I slid in, being careful of the knives strapped to my thigh; I didn’t want them to get caught on anything.

We drove in silence for a long time. I shut my brain down, keeping my senses alert in case there was an ambush. My uncle probably sent this bodyguard because he didn’t believe in my abilities.

I bristled at the thought.

We drove up a winding hill surrounded by towering tall, leafy trees. A sense of peace came over me, even though I didn’t truly remember this place all too well. My mind suppressed the awful memories of my time here.

I made sure to keep my face carefully blank. I didn’t know what I was walking into. My uncle wanted something from me, and I wasn’t quite sure what. I didn’t know what would happen, but if I could gain enough money to rescue all the women at The Academy from Headmaster Mikhail, I would. I needed enough to get away.

I would kill Headmaster Mikhail, and replace him with someone safe. Then I could disappear. The bounty on my head would probably be large, but maybe if I could get some blackmail material on my uncle, I could be free. It may be a far-fetched idea, but it was hope.

There would be families that supported me in killing him. Right?

A birdlike woman stood in the doorway when the vehicle came to a stop. The driver helped me out of the car and went to grab my suitcase. I walked slowly toward the compound, taking in the gaudiness of the property.

I've seen a ton of wealth flexes since my time here.

The woman, with her head held low and hands clasped behind her back, led me down the dimly lit hallway. The musty smell of aged wood and cigar smoke lingered in the air, making me feel uneasy. She stopped at a heavy wooden door and slowly pushed it open, revealing my uncle sitting at his desk.

His face was obscured by a cloud of smoke from his cigar, but I faintly made him out; the same uncle who had always been distant and aloof towards me. Our eyes met, but there was no recognition or warmth in his gaze. It was as if I were a stranger to him, another insignificant person to be tolerated in his presence. Realizing that he had never truly wanted me around, I felt an ache in my chest, and silently longed for an escape from this uncomfortable reunion.

He sat behind an imposing desk, but he, himself, was now a sliver of a man, weak from the bombing, and being in the hospital all these years.

“Bellissima,” his shaky voice trickled across the room.

The soldiers in the room stood tall, like he had boomed an order. It was unnerving, the amount of respect shown to such a sickly old man. He didn’t seem like that imposing figure I’d seen all those years ago when I was a teenager.

“Uncle,” I acknowledged.

His eyes glistened and filled with tears as he studied me. His gaze lingered on my features, tracing every line and curve of my face. “You are the spitting image of your mother when she was your age,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

Before I could react, he shut down all his emotions. His face became stoic and cold. “Sit,” he ordered.

I gracefully sank into the empty chair in front of his desk. Everyone else stood except for him and me. It was a show of power. The men wouldn’t sit in the presence of their Don unless invited.

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