Chapter 6 Training Grounds

The ballroom echoed with the dull thud of footsteps and the sharp clash of training blades. Once a place of music and grandeur, it now echoed with sweat, struggle, and the crackle of will. Marco, ever stoic, stood like a sentinel as Elena faced off against one of Alessandro's junior guards.

Her breath came fast. The blade in her hand trembled, not from fear, but exhaustion. She'd been at it for hours. Every failure was met with another round. Every success, another escalation. Pain was her only clock.

Marco circled her. "Again."

The guard lunged, and Elena dodged to the left. Not fast enough. His blade touched her shoulder.

"Dead," Marco said flatly.

Elena grit her teeth. "Again."

The guard looked at Marco, but he nodded. "Let her."

They reset. This time, she feinted, pivoted, and caught the guard off balance. Her blade met his chest.

"Better," Marco muttered. "But in the field, hesitation will get you killed."

"I didn't hesitate."

"You thought. Don't. Trust the instinct we're building."

Elena's arms ached. Her thighs burned. But beneath the pain was a flicker of pride.

Alessandro watched from the edge of the balcony, hidden from view. He hadn't missed a session. He said it was to ensure progress, but in truth, he couldn't look away. Elena was changing-growing sharper, stronger. More dangerous.

And he craved her more with every passing day.

Later that evening, Elena soaked in a marble tub in her suite, bruises blooming like violets on her skin. She traced them absently, marveling at how her body now felt like her own weapon. Her mind raced-not with fear, but focus.

She heard the knock on her door.

"Come in," she said.

Alessandro entered, carrying a folded piece of paper.

"Lucia's network confirmed our target in Rome. He'll be attending a masquerade ball in two nights. That's our shot."

Elena sat up, water cascading down her arms. "So I passed?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"You endured more than most of my men," he said. "You still need control. But yes-you passed."

A breath escaped her, part relief, part vindication.

"Do I get a mask?" she asked.

He smiled, eyes softening. "I had one made for you."

She stood, wrapping herself in a silk robe. Their eyes met.

"I won't disappoint you," she said.

"I know."

As he left, his hand brushed her shoulder-light, but deliberate.

Alone again, Elena stared out the window into the moonlit gardens. The woman she used to be would've run from this world. But now, she was walking willingly into its fire.

And she didn't feel afraid.

She felt alive.