The Storms

Chapter eleven

"I still can't believe you wear heels to school," Aylee said, taking a bite of her fries. "It's just my style," Brielle replied, not looking up from her book. It was now Monday, and the events of Friday still lingered, leaving Aylee in shock. 

For Brielle, she brushed it off, as if she hadn't killed people just days ago. However, Aylee had eventually calmed down.

Damien had spoken to both Brielle and Blake about 'the master,' the head of the organization that trained them. Brielle, always called his best work, seemed unfazed, while Blake struggled to come to terms with his past actions.

Regarding the trauma they had experienced, Damien suggested they see his company therapist. 

It was during this discussion that Brielle and Blake revealed they were aware of their family's involvement in the mafia. Damien took the revelation surprisingly well, relieved to avoid an additional conversation.

"I have a free period next period. Since they don't have any more math to teach me, I'm going to the greenhouse," Brielle said, getting up and disposing of her trash. Aylee shouted a goodbye as she left.

In the hallway, Brielle passed Blake, who was engaged in a conversation with Francis. The two seemed to have grown close. Brielle gave Blake a little wave, which he reciprocated, prompting Francis to turn around and smile. He said goodbye to Blake and walked up to Brielle.

"Where are you going, Princess?" he asked, casually draping his arm over her shoulders. 

"Greenhouse," she replied. 

"Good, we can go together. I need to talk to you," Francis added. Brielle contemplated what he might want to discuss.

They entered the greenhouse, greeted Ms. Blackman, and Francis held the door open for Brielle. 

Once inside, Brielle asked, "So, what did you want to talk to me about?" as she set down her bag and grabbed a spray bottle to water some lavender.

"I know what you are," Francis stated. Brielle turned around, asking, "How do you know?"

"Blake told me, and I'm just glad I finally met the Red Death," Francis said, grabbing another spray bottle. Shivers ran down Brielle's body. The Red Death was her assassin name. "How do you know that? Not even Blake is dumb enough to say that."

"My father is a don," Francis whispered in her ear, laughing at Brielle's shocked expression. The Chesters, the most powerful mafia family globally, were also the Storms' enemies. They had a tacit agreement to avoid crossing borders and leaving each other's families alone.

"I knew you were too perfect," Brielle said after overcoming her initial shock. Francis chuckled.

"You can't tell Blake who you are. I know Aylee knows because you're cousins, so no telling, because I still want to be friends with you," Brielle cautioned.

"Alright, Princess," Francis agreed. "So, are you ready to dance?"

"No, I suck at dancing," Brielle admitted. "I will teach you," said Francis. He set down his spray bottle, left the room, and returned with a speaker.

"Why do I have to have a ball?" Brielle asked, putting her spray bottle down. "It's tradition. You're the princess of the mafia, one of the highest ranks. So, you have to be celebrated. Besides, Bri, you deserve to be celebrated. You've been through so much. Now, take my hand," Francis said, pressing play on the speaker.

Brielle took his hand, and Francis began explaining, step by step. The two didn't even notice Aylee, who came in looking for Brielle as the bell rang. She smiled at them, took out her phone, and took a picture, thinking she would save it for their wedding day.