Merciless Saints (St. Monarch's Academy 1)

Pins and needles spread over my whole body. “What?” I snap as my gaze darts between Carson and Madame Keller. A chorus of surprised murmurs floods the hall.

“The contracts are effective for twelve months,” Madame Keller bites the words out, clearly angered at my reaction.

Blyad'.

My eyes snap back to Carson, and I watch as he rises to his feet, the same shock I feel etched deep on his face.

Pissed off, I stalk off the stage, and when I burst through the backstage door, Carson comes jogging toward me. “It’s just twelve months. It’s a good contract. I’ll buy you out afterward.”

“What the fuck just happened?” I spit.

“Hemsley outbid me. I put in fifteen million. No one has ever bid higher than eleven million. It was a safe bet.”

Holy fuck. This was not the plan.

Lifting a hand, I rub a palm over my jaw while shaking my head. “Blyad',” I curse again. “This was not the plan.” My eyes lock with Carson’s. “You have no one to protect you.”

“I’ll join Alexei,” he tries to reassure me of his safety.

Then it really sinks in, and anger explodes behind my eyes. When I push past him so I can face off with Patrick Hemsley, Carson grabs hold of my arm. “The contract is binding, Damien. Don’t do something stupid. The payment has already been made, and you have to honor it.”

I rip my arm free from Carson’s hold and stalk to the hall. When I step inside, my eyes scan over the bidders, and then they lock on Patrick, where the other bidders are taking turns to shake his hand.

Then his body jerks, and a thin stream of blood runs down his temple before he drops to his knees. It happens so fast, it takes a moment to register that Patrick Hemsley was just assassinated. On St. Monarch’s grounds.

Training takes over, and I run for Sean Hemsley, who’s staring in horror at his dead father. I jump over a chair, and I don’t even make it halfway before the son’s body flies forward and screams erupt from the attendees.

Five seconds and I lost two charges.

I’ve failed within seconds of being contracted.

Winter.

My eyes dart over the attendees' section, but it’s chaos as everyone either ducks or tries to make a run for it. Not seeing Winter, I can only hope she’s not in the hall.

I run for the side door, and a bullet narrowly misses me, sending icy chills down my spine.

Fuck, I’m a target as well.

It has to be Adrian. Now I understand why he was contracted for such a high amount.

The instant I rush out of the door, I catch a glimpse of red hair disappearing out the front door. I dart forward and shove people out of my way.

Finally, I lay eyes on her, where she’s practically being carried away from the academy by her personal guard, who’s struggling to keep ahold of her. Relief pours through me at the sight of her.

“Stop, Winter!” her guard snaps, his voice tense.

I take the stairs down and run toward them. Catching up to them as they reach an armored jeep, I shout, “Give me the keys.”

The personal guard only spares me a glance before he tosses them to me, and then he bundles Winter into the backseat where he joins her.

My first night on the fucking job, and I don’t even have a weapon.

The thought makes another burst of anger explode in me, and a string of Russian curses escape me as I slide behind the steering wheel. “Where are the weapons?” I bark as I start the engine.

“Under the seat,” the guard growls at me as he begins to pull weapons out from under the back seat. He throws two on the passenger seat as I floor the peddle, making the wheels squeal as we pull away.

A bullet slams into the back window but bounces off, and it has Winter letting out a cry. It’s the first sound she’s made.

I keep my eyes on the driveway as I speed toward the gates, and they open just in time for me to steer the jeep off the campus.

Slamming my palm against the steering wheel, I shout, “Blyad'!”

In one night, all my carefully laid plans have gone up in smoke, and I lost two charges.

Winter lost her father and brother.

Christ.

“Phone,” I snap at the guard.

He tosses his cellphone onto my lap, and I dial my brother’s number while keeping one eye on the road ahead.

“Vertov,” Demitri barks over the line.

“It’s Damien,” I mutter.

I hear him sigh with relief. “What the fuck is going on at the academy?”

“Patrick Hemsley contracted me. He and the son were assassinated within minutes. I think it’s Adrian Vincent. I don’t know where Carson is. It was a mess.”

“Carson got out. He called Alexei. Where’s the third Hemsley?”

“I have her,” I breathe, and then relief bleeds into my veins.