© 2018 Sheridan Anne.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Design by: OliviaProDesign
Editing and Formatting by: Sheridan Anne
Introduction
It’s been three months since they took me and I’ve never felt so alone in my life.
I miss my friends and my family. I miss Rylan. Graduation is just around the corner and I’m probably going to miss that too.
Why is graduating from The Guard Academy so damn hard? Every time I get close, someone is right there, ready to take it away.
I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and I’ve battled it out. All for what? To be taken away by the people I’m supposed to trust most, to have my life dictated to me, and to be their poster girl.
I don’t think so.
I will not stand for it anymore. I’m going to take back what’s mine and beware if you get in my way. I’m done being their prisoner. It’s about time the world learns, once and for all, that you cannot mess with Bianca Moore.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Dominate Playlist
Author Biography
Other books by Sheridan Anne
Chapter 1
I sit here in my prison cell, carving yet another line into the wooden bed post, keeping track of the time my sorry ass has been locked up here. Two and a half months I’ve been stuck here as a ‘prisoner’ of The Guard Headquarters and there’s not a thing I can do about it. They expect me to be happy about it like it’s some kind of privilege that out of all the members of The Guard, it’s me they’ve chosen to represent them as their special little poster girl. Yeah, right.
My days drag by from the moment I wake up until the second my head hits the pillow at night. I get up each morning at precisely six am. I carve a line into the bed post, have a quick shower and get dressed into the most ridiculous skirt suit I have ever seen. I then twist my long hair up into an ‘elegant’ bun, which if you knew me, you’d know ‘elegant’ is not one of the many words I’d use to describe how I do my hair. I slip on a pair of black flats and head to breakfast, where I report to the annoying Mr. Richards, aka, my prison guard. And just like the day before and the day before that, I eat next to nothing then am escorted to a study hall where I sit for ten hours of my lonely day while lecturer after lecturer goes over my training, and might I mention, it’s not the good kind of training I’m used to. It’s the pen and paper, slow and boring type of training which does my head in.
The Guard have hand chosen me for my current celebrity and skills in combat in hopes of becoming their poster girl who’ll willingly be shipped around the world to all our Academies, boasting about the Combat Program and convince the young women of The Guard to consider a lifelong commitment to the front line, just like I have. But instead of actually being on the front lines, where I so clearly belong, they have me here, learning how to be a much less enthusiastic version of myself.
Today I’ve got some lady going over how to properly pull an audience in, which I know I have no problem doing. In fact, I would say it would be one of my many beautiful talents, but no, this woman here wants to go over an algorithm she put together to ensure my success. So, here I sit, trying my hardest not to fall asleep while pretending to scribble random numbers and equations into a notebook which mean absolutely nothing to me.
Following my poor excuse of what The Guard like to call my ‘training’, I head down for dinner where I eat basically nothing as I’ve hardly burned any energy, except for wasted brain power. I’m then allowed to use the gym facilities for twenty five minutes, which including the time it would take to get back to my room, get dressed and hit the gym, that leaves me with roughly ten minutes, so instead, I head back to my room with my body itching to kick something.
I push the old creaky wooden door open and flop down on my bed. My body is desperate with the need to move, to get out of here, and put myself into action. But after two and a half months of not training my body, hardly eating, and being cooped up in this little room, my body is beginning to fail me. I’ve lost weight, my muscle tone is deteriorating, and my will to fight the system is disappearing.
I pull off my ridiculous skirt suit and place it down in the washing hamper, knowing the cleaning staff will be through first thing in the morning, making sure to wake me up in the process.
I pull on a pair of shorts and a training crop and lay down on the floor to put myself through a yoga session and a few strength exercises that I can manage in my minimal room. Which consists of a few sit ups followed by some push ups and maybe a few squats if I’m lucky. As for my combat work, I can pretty much kiss that all goodbye. Though, I know it’s there in my muscle memory. After all, with Rylan’s training, I consider myself the best, but without my constant strength and agility work, I’ve got nothing.
An hour later, my head hits the pillow and a silent tear falls down my face as I long for my old life, the easy one where I could get away with murder, the one where my best friend and boyfriend were always there by my side. Hell, I even miss the boys.
Ahh, my poor friends. I can only imagine what they’re going through at the moment. Jacinta would be stuck in the library with her nose inside at least three books, trying to figure out a way to appeal The Guards decision. She would have Trey and Daniel by the balls helping her, and Rylan, well he’d be beating the crap out of a punching bag, feeling as helpless as me.
I didn’t think it was possible, but after the spectacularly crazy last few months we all shared together, we somehow grew from being best friends into the tightest family I could possibly imagine, and it’s killing me now not having that family with me.
The moment I entered this hell hole, every device was taken away from me. My phone, my laptop, and even my trusty iPod. The Guard Headquarters is in a secret location and with the threat of the Fey declaring war against us, you know, after they kidnapped me and Rylan killed their Queen, The Guard aren’t taking any chances. Though, I highly doubt the Fey are intelligent enough to be able to track the GPS on modern devices, but, rules are rules.
I’ve gone from having everyone I love right by my side, every moment of the day to not being able to hear their voices. To say I’m feeling a little lonely would be an understatement. I roll over in my cold bed and curl up into myself, imagining Rylan’s strong, familiar arms wrapped around me and wishing that things could go back to how they used to be.
I fall into a dreamless sleep, clutching my bullet chain that hangs religiously around my neck. It’s the one thing I have with me that manages to ease the pain of being away from the man I love.
-------
I am miserable. I can literally feel the depression coming on. It’s been three long months and it’s driving me insane.
I’ve got to get myself out of here. I get up, making sure to carve in yet another line on my bedpost and get myself ready for the day. I make my way down the hall and consider all my options. Running away? Faking my own death? No. I know for a fact I’ll end up back at The Academy, and T
he Guard will drag me straight back, kicking and screaming.
It seems my last and only option is to make The Guard regret choosing me for such a public role. I will fail. I’ll make myself look like an absolute fool in front of the academies they send me to, making not only the combat program but The Guards training look like a waste of time. They’ll have no option but to send me back. Well, fingers crossed that’s what they do with me. The only downfall is not only could I ruin my chances of getting on the Front Lines following graduation, but it may also take months of terrible acting to get me to that point.
But today, my only goal is to get in touch with the outside world.
I make it down to their version of a cafeteria, though it is completely clinical, nothing like the modern and cosy one back home. I push open the door and come face to face with Mr. Richards. He runs a hand through his black hair and quirks an eyebrow at me. “You’re late,” he demands. Ugh, tell me something I don’t know.
I groan with having to deal with this guy so early in my morning. I swear, if he wasn’t such a drop kick, he’d probably be a half decent guy. I mean, he’s kind of cute. Maybe all he needs is a girlfriend to lift his sour mood.
“Yeah, sorry. I think I’ve got a tummy bug,” I lie as I put one hand on my stomach and the other to my mouth while pretending to gag.
He steps back immediately. “Ugh,” he cringes. “Go get yourself fixed up in the infirmary,” he dismisses. On second thoughts, this guy definitely couldn’t handle having a girlfriend.
I give him a weak nod and turn on my heel. Awesome. Step one. Complete. Now for the exciting part.
I head down the hallway to the infirmary and slide through the door. I put on a show about my unwell stomach and the nurse ushers me off towards a bed before making me comfortable and letting me know the doctor will be right in to check me out.
I thank her and send her on her way. Ten minutes later, a woman with short, pixy hair and a white lab coat comes strolling into the room. “Who have we got here?” she asks.
“I’m Bianca,” I tell her, still holding my stomach.
“Ah, of course, I should have known. I’m Dr. Mandoza,” she introduces.
“Huh?” I ask, taking a closer look and immediately seeing the similarities. “Do you happen to know the Dr. Mandoza at The Academy?”
Her face brightens immediately. “Yes, dear, she’s my sister,” she practically sings. “Do you know her well?”
“Sure do,” I smile. “She’s been mending me up for years.”
“If the stories are all true then I wouldn’t doubt that for one second,” she laughs.
Relief rushes through me knowing there’s at least one person in this place who I can have a nice conversation with. “Yeah, unfortunately, they’re all true. The good, the bad and the ugly,” I confirm.
“Oh dear,” she laughs. “Now, what can I do for you?” she asks as she looks me over.
“I seem to have a stomach bug,” I say, feeling slightly guilty for the lie.
She steps forward and motions to my stomach. “May I?” she asks.
I give her a slight nod and watch as she steps forward and places her hands on my stomach. She applies pressure and quickly changes to a new position with a frown marring her pretty face.
“Hmm,” she says. “Well, there isn’t too much I can do for the bug, just make sure you keep your fluids up. You may have to take a few days off training, but I can give you a certificate for that,” she tells me. “What I’m concerned about,” she continues as her eyes roam over the rest of my body. “Is for a combat student, you seem to be quite underweight and not holding much muscle. Tell me, is this normal for you?” she asks.
I glance away as the emotions hit me hard and do my best not to break down. “No,” I tell her. “I’ve been here for three months for a training program and my guess would be that I’ve lost about ten pounds in that time,” I explain.
“Right,” she says full of concern, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “What about your meals? Are you keeping up with your physical training?”
“No, I’m scheduled twenty five minutes after dinner, but by the time I get dressed and ready, it’s really not worth it, so I do what I can in my room, which isn’t much,” I tell her. “As for food, I have breakfast at 6:30am, a small lunch for ten minutes at midday and then dinner whenever they decide I’ve suffered enough,” I explain.
She thinks it over for a short while. “That would be fine,” she sighs. “If you were anyone but a combat student,” she scoffs, clearly unimpressed.
“What difference does that make?” I ask, slightly confused.
“Your body is used to training for long hours each day, so you have a fast metabolism to keep up with you,” Dr. Mandoza explains. “Now that you’re not training and not eating nearly as much as you used to, your metabolism is working overtime. It’s draining you of your stored body fats and causing you to lose weight.”
“Great,” I scoff with as much sarcasm as possible.
“Is there something else you’d like to discuss? Is everything ok?”
“No, I’m fine,” I say with a fake smile. “I just miss home.”
“Ah, I see,” she nods. “Now, there’s no point in hanging out here. Why don’t you head back to your room and take the next few days off.”
“Thank you,” I smile as I get up off the bed. I wait patiently and put on a show of holding my stomach as she leaves the room. The moment she’s gone, I stick my head out the doorway and look up and down, taking in the layout of the room. The main entry is to my left and the break rooms to my right. Bingo.
Once the coast is clear, I slip out of the room and head for the break room, hoping there’s no one inside. I quietly push the door open and slip inside, sending up a thanks when I find the room empty.
I quickly search the room and do a little dance when I find the nurse’s handbag with her cell phone sitting right on top. Forgive me father, for I’m about to sin. I grab the old brick phone and slip it into my pocket.
I prepare myself with a hand over my stomach and one over my mouth as I make my way out of the break room, just in case I need to fake looking for the bathroom. I exit the room without needing to lie anymore and make my way out of the infirmary and back down to my room.
The moment I enter my room, I slam the door closed behind me and flick the lock. I sink to the floor not willing to waste a single moment before dialling Rylan’s number.
I hold the phone up to my ear and wait anxiously as the call connects and instantly takes me to voicemail. “You know what to do,” his message says. The sound of his deep voice immediately calms me and gives me just that extra bit of will to keep going.
“It’s me,” I say to his message bank. “I miss you. Call me on this number when you get this… I love you.” I hang up the phone as a wave disappointment takes over me. God, what I would have given to be able to talk to him.
Next, I dial Jacinta. It rings once before her velvety voice appears on the other side. “Hello…?” she says hesitantly, unsure of the unknown number.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice,” I cry, immediately breaking into tears.
“Oh, Bianca,” she sobs. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m still at The Guard Headquarters. They took my phone and laptop so any form of communication with the outside world is gone,” I whine.
“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you in three months,” she comments, flatly. “So, what have you been doing there?” she asks.
“No. Don’t make me talk about it,” I pout. “Tell me about school, the boys, Rylan. Damn it, tell me about Rylan.”
“Ok, ok,” she soothes. “Calm down.”
“Get on with it,” I demand.
“Alright,” she laughs. “So, school is school. Just ordinary, nothing exciting is happening. Nora is being a bit nicer and classes are boring.”
“Ok, what about Trey?”
“You know Trey, he’s jus
t going with the flow. He’s been in the library with me every day searching for something we could use to get you out of there, but we’ve pretty much been through every book twice,” she says as her tone drops with regret.
“It’s ok. I’m working on something. Hopefully, I’ll be back there sooner rather than later,” I tell her.
“Really? What’s the plan?” she asks.
I cringe knowing I really don’t have anything solid. “I’m just going to keep screwing up and eventually they’ll send me back.”
“Bianca,” she whines. “That’s the worst plan you’ve ever come up with. You had better plans in kindergarten.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But I really have nothing to work with here. Now, stop getting distracted and fill me in on Daniel.”
She groans but gets on with it. “Daniel’s been a little weird actually, distancing himself a lot, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the whole mutual dad thing or if he’s just missing you. Maybe it’s a bit of both.”
“Damn. Tell them I love them both,” I say, desperately wishing I could do it myself.
“I will,” she promises then goes quiet.
“How’s Rylan?” I murmur. “I tried to call him, but it went to voicemail.”
“Umm…,” she starts and I can practically hear the cringe in her voice.
“Spit it out,” I demand.
She lets out a sigh. “So, the first month, he was really angry. The boys said he was back to being the asshole instructor from the beginning, but a whole lot worse, and they would see him working out a lot in the gym and out in the field,” she explains, instantly tearing my heart in two. “Then about two months ago, they called him to trial for taking us on the rescue mission into the Fairy Kingdom. That went on for a few weeks and even with our testimonies, they still ruled against him, but not too badly. He’s been put on suspension for three months, so he still has just under two months left to go. He had to leave campus and isn’t allowed to have any communication with any member of The Guard.”
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