Page 1 of A Dove To Break (The Dove Institute Collection #1)

Alania

Some people count down to graduation like it’s the start of their real lives.

Me? I’m counting down to what feels like a lifetime prison sentence.

While everyone else is partying and planning their freedom from college, I’m preparing to be delivered to another school.

A darker one. One that no one talks about unless they have the right blood and the right secrets.

I dream of running, of slipping into anonymity by changing my name and burning my past. Girls like me don’t get to run.

Not when your last name is Remington. I can’t escape their legacy; I inherit it even if it kills me.

“I understand, Dad,” I say with an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know if you do, Alania. This is our reputation. If you go in there acting like chaos, it will reflect poorly on your mother and me,” Dad says with a scolding tone. Why is he pissy with me? I haven’t even done anything. Yet.

“I understand. I’ll be good,” I say gently. “I need to finish packing my room now…”

“Your brother will be the one visiting you. We will see you at graduation,” Dad says casually, like he and I don’t know what graduation means.

“Great. Bye. Love you,” I say, hanging up before he can lecture me again.

I roll my eyes and toss my phone into my bag.

I don’t care to read the notifications on my phone, because I know what they will be.

Party invites, well wishes, questions, and more questions.

For the next six months, I will disappear with no way to contact the outside world, and I fucking hate it.

I hate my parents for this. I have begged countless times not to be made to go to this stupid finishing school, but alas, they don’t give a fuck.

To them, I am out of control, and I need to learn to be obedient if I have any real shot at having a husband.

The thing is, I don’t want a husband. Not if I am expected to be a subservient little princess without a voice.

Without an opinion. I won’t be my mother.

They can try to break me, but I won’t bend.

I do know I need to at least play the part somewhat, or they will kill me.

I just need to get past graduation without being claimed by anyone, and I am home free.

I will get the title of Master, and I will be free to do as I wish.

I jump when someone pounds on the door to my dorm room. Fuck. I thought I’d have more time. They bang on the door again, and I groan. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” I mutter as I drag my feet to the door.

“Alania Remington?” the man asks with a grunt. He is tall, bald, and mean-looking. I’d be willing to bet he ate a kitten for breakfast, or at least a hamster.

“If I say no, will you fuck off?” I deadpan.

“We are here to transport you to Hamilton School for Excellence. Where are your belongings?” the other mean-looking man asks. I gesture to the bags piled beside me, and he grunts before picking up an armload of bags.

“Are you going to grab any?” the first man asks me.

“Nope,” I scoff, folding my arms over my chest to watch them. He grits his teeth, and together they pick everything up. When they go to walk out of the room, they realize they have no way to stop me from running.

“Chill out, baldy,” I laugh. “I won’t run.”

They both grunt and walk out. I trail behind them, considering what would happen if I were actually to run away.

Would they drop my bags and tackle me? Probably.

I am so fucking over this, and I’m not even at the school yet.

When we get to the blacked-out Escalade, the two men load everything into the back before staring at me.

“Get in,” the second man barks at me.

“Fuck you,” I laugh. “Say please.”

“Get in the fucking car,” the first one growls as he steps closer to me.

“Aht. You can’t touch me,” I say with a grin. “I am not a student at the school of the soul sucking yet, and there are non-society members around.”

“Get in the fucking car, or I’ll call your father and have him come here and deal with you,” he says with a grave tone.

“Say please,” I tell him with a sweet smile. “You can do it. You know how to say that, right? Puh-Leez. You can do it, Baldy.”

“Get in the goddamn car,” he snarls in my face, inches away. “...Please.”

“Good boy!” I say with a chipper tone. I hold up my end of the deal and pull the door open.

I slip into the seat, and he slams the door behind me.

Right away, I notice there are no handles for me to get out.

Smart, because I seriously would have considered jumping the fuck out.

Baldy is going to fuck me up the moment he is allowed to, but it was worth it.

The two men get in, and the first man is driving. The second man keeps glancing back at me, so I turn and look at him. “Yes?” I ask.

“Nothing. Just curious how long it will take for you to get yourself killed,” he remarks.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Jax,” he says.

“Well, Jax. I am hoping for soon, so… if you’d like to do the honors, Baldy might help you,” I say, making him smirk. “Baldy, what’s your name?”

“Phillip,” he grunts.

“Don’t take it personally, Phillip. My parents aren’t here for me to be a bitch to, so you two get to deal with me,” I say. He glares at me through the rearview mirror before looking back at the road.

Hamilton School for Excellence is a finishing school for children of the elite members of society.

It can be everyone from the child of a politician to a mob princess, like me.

My father owns and operates several casinos, as well as making deals within the drug trade.

He mostly handles the shipment of drugs from state to state and county to county.

When we get out of college, we are sent to this school to learn one of two things.

Men are taught to be dominant, and women are taught to be submissive.

Rarely does a woman get through school without being claimed, but if she does, she earns the title of “Master” and she is free to do as she wishes.

Men who do not get through the Master training are sent through again.

They will repeat this process until they get it.

This society does not condone submissive males.

Rumor is, the dominant women are just killed, because it’s simply not a thing to see a female master.

Mom did her best to make sure I knew what I was getting into, so I do appreciate her for that.

I know she didn’t want me to have to go, but she would never go against Dad.

I have seen the evidence of him whipping her.

I am no stranger to his temper and have also worn welts sometimes for days after being whipped.

I have several scars from him breaking skin, too.

Mom told me the last time we talked that the training masters are now involved in the training of submissives, so I am curious how that will go.

She hasn’t gone into detail about what all this school entails, but I do know that there is obedience training, sexual training, and kink training.

So, more or less, I am going to get fucked by a bunch of men for six months straight.

My final test is a hunt. This hunt is simple.

The submissives run, and the masters hunt us down.

They wear a mask of their choice, and if they catch you, they get to do whatever they want.

They can then decide to claim you as their bride, or leave you for someone else to find.

They have every right to kill a submissive during the Hunt, so it is life or death.

The masters in the Hunt are also the trainers.

They rotate out every round of training to find a submissive bride.

Although they train at the school in their early twenties, they are not allowed to be a master trainer until they are thirty.

Mom told me once that they focus on their career but are expected to uphold their dominance by taking on submissive partners, but these women are not intended to be married.

They are essentially rented hookers. The men pick a woman for a night or years.

They use them however they want, and then they are passed off to someone else.

So, the men who will be in my hunt want to find a wife.

One of them will want me, but I am determined to make sure none of them do.

When we pull past the iron gates, I sit up straighter.

The grounds stretch wide, surrounded by dense forest that creeps close to the road like it’s guarding something.

The trees part just enough to reveal that the south-facing school is a towering 1800s-era castle made of cold granite and deep red sandstone.

Gothic, sharp-edged, and silent. I don’t doubt that this place holds many secrets, most of which will never be uttered outside of these walls.

Twin stone columns frame the main entrance, each carved with a snake slithering toward the archway.

The road curves into a cobblestone cul-de-sac, flanked by trimmed hedges and perfectly spaced trees.

Flowerbeds bloom around the circle, too neat to be comforting.

It’s beautiful, but damn near fraudulent. This is my own personal hell.

Jax gets out and comes around to my door before Phillip can.

I assume this is because he might actually choke me out if I am a smartass to him again.

I get out willingly and see women with their heads bowed hurrying over to us.

They say nothing and grab all of my belongings before taking them into Hamilton Manor.

“Come on,” Jax says. I sigh, but follow him. Phillip is behind me, probably ready to lay my ass out if I try anything.

When we walk through the large doorway, I am blown away by how stunning this place is. It’s gothic to the max, and I love it. If I am trapped here, I’m glad it’s at least a mirror of my soul; dark and minimalistic.