Pain was the first lesson Isla learned in Rafael De Luca's world. Her breathing was ragged, and her body was bruised after repeatedly falling to the cold, hard floor of the training room. Matteo Salvatore stood before her, his arms folded across his chest and his expression full of contempt for her.
"You still think you can do this, Varela?" His voice was loud with a dismissive tone.
Isla forced herself to rise, wiping the blood from the corner of her lips. Her entire body screamed in pain, but her resolve remained strong. Only to avenge her father's death.
He threw a knife to the floor in front of Isla. The steel blade glinted in the dim light.
"Take it," Matteo ordered.
Isla hesitated for a moment before bending down to pick it up. The handle was cold and felt unfamiliar in her grip. She had held a gun before and had shot bottles behind her father's house just for fun. But this... this was very different.
"Kill or be killed. That's the world you're about to enter. If you hesitate, you die." Matteo stared at Isla with a piercing gaze.
Then, without warning, he attacked. Isla barely had time to react before Matteo's fist slammed into her stomach. She staggered, jerked back, then lost her breath for a few seconds. The knife in her hand slipped out and fell clinking to the floor.
"That was a sneaky attack," Isla said, glaring at Matteo.
Isla coughed and clutched her sore stomach as she tried to straighten herself up. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth, but she ignored it. Matteo crouched beside her, gripping her chin roughly, forcing Isla to look into his cold, merciless eyes.
"You think your enemies will fight fairly? You think they'll give you time to think?" His grip tightened. "They will slaughter you before you realize what is happening."
Isla gritted her teeth, refusing to show weakness before Matteo. She showed her spirit because she did not want to lose easily.
"Again," Isla said.
"What?" Matteo frowned.
"Do it again." She clenched her fists. "I have to learn."
"Good." Matteo grinned. "Pick it up. And this time, don't drop it." Matteo stood up and took a step back, pointing at the knife still lying on the floor.
***
Isla could barely stand up. She had been thrown, punched, dropped, and disarmed countless times. Every inch of her body ached, but something wild was stirring inside her. Matteo looked at her with an expression that was hard to interpret.
"You survived your first lesson," Matteo said finally.
Isla swallowed, feeling the mixed taste of blood and sweat in her throat. Matteo's smile widened slightly.
"Because tomorrow, the real training begins."
Without another word, he turned and left, leaving Isla alone in the middle of the empty training hall. From the shadows on the upper balcony, Rafael watched silently, his lips curving into a thin, unmistakable smile.
"She got what she wanted."
***
Days turned into weeks and Isla went through a workout that would make most men give up. Matteo never showed any mercy, constantly pushing her past her limits, forcing her to abandon her old self.
"You're still holding back," Matteo growled after knocking her to the floor with a brutal kick.
"I am not holding back."
"I can see that. You still hesitate. Still trying to distinguish between right and wrong." Matteo shook his head, then stepped closer and looked at her sharply.
"No!"
"Listen, Isla. In this world, there is no right or wrong. There are only the strong and the dead. You're just beginning to understand. But until you can kill someone without a second thought, you're not a killer. You're just a girl trying to look strong."
"I'm going to kill them," she said in a quiet but determined voice. "The people who killed my father. I will make sure they all die."
Matteo smiled, but not a friendly smile-the smile of a man who had just seen his student finally begin to change. In the corner of the room, Rafael watched the whole thing, his gaze cold but satisfied at Isla's already slightly stronger transformation. Isla Varela was being forged into the perfect weapon for him. The world would know that an assassin had been born.
***
The sun had just risen and Isla was back standing in the center of the underground training room. Her body still ached from yesterday's training session, but she knew one thing, there was no room for weakness.
Matteo stood in front of her with his arms crossed. He scrutinized Isla from head to toe, like an executioner assessing whether his prey deserved to live or die.
"Did you sleep last night?" he asked in a cold tone of voice.
Isla did not answer. She could not sleep. A knife was thrown at her. Isla caught it with better reflexes than before. Matteo walked over to a table in the corner of the room, pulling a black cloth over an object. Isla stiffened at the sight of a training dummy in the shape of a human body, complete with synthetic leather that resembled real flesh.
"Listen carefully," Matteo continued. "Any weapon can kill, but only if you know where to strike. A shallow stab will only hurt. But a precise thrust-" Matteo drew his knife and thrust it directly into the dummy's chest. "-will make sure you don't have to do it twice."
Isla watched intently as Matteo pulled the knife out. Artificial blood flowed from the mock wound. Isla tightened her grip on the knife handle.
"Heart, main artery, and liver. Pick one and make sure they cannot stand up again. Your turn."
Without hesitation, Isla stepped forward and stabbed the doll in the chest. However, before the knife could penetrate, Matteo grabbed her wrist firmly.
"You stabbed to injure, not killing. That could be the last mistake of your life," Matteo muttered. "Try again."
Matteo released Isla and this time she took a deep breath before swinging the knife with full confidence. The blade went deep, right into the doll's heart. Matteo smiled slightly.
"You kill one person, but their enemies will retaliate," Matteo whispered. "So tell me, Isla, what do you do after killing someone?"
"I make sure there are no witnesses left." Isla swallowed and ignored the cold sensation of the knife on her skin.
She no longer recognized the girl who used to refuse to hold a gun. There was no longer any doubt in her eyes. All that remained was the fire of vengeance that existed in Isla Varela's life.