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I crash through a glade of trees, and then across another green, running first past the riding stables and then some further out-buildings. Blundering through another glade, I finally come tumbling out beside a sprawling rose garden full of hedges, old, crumbling walls and statues, and a fountain.
It’s only here that I finally pause, my breath coming fast and sweat slicking my back.
I’ve never been to this part of the campus before.
When I stop running, it’s like the emotions I’ve been fleeing finally catch up to me. An enormous sob rips from my chest as I wipe away a tear, moving quietly toward the rose garden.
FuckAmanda. And fuck the rest of them. Fuck this whole goddamn snooty, moneyed, connected school.
The worst part is, in a lot of ways, I was really looking forward to being here. Knightsblood is one of those places that most people haven’t ever heard of. But then, “most people” aren’t the type who come here.
Ostensibly, Knightsblood is an old-money, old-school private college nestled on the wooded, quaint southern shore of Connecticut, just like a hundred other such private schools.
But there’s nothing quite like Knightsblood.
Because the students who come here aren’t just rich and connected. They’re…connected.
As in, “made”.
Mafia. Bratva. Yakuza. Cosa Nostra. Cartel. Not all of them directly, of course—I mean, look at me. But in a way, almost every student here comes from money, power, and criminal connections.
I have absolutely no idea how the entire criminal world unanimously and spontaneously decided to start sending their heirs and offspring thirty miles north of Manhattan to the idyllic and preppy Gold Coast. But here they—we—are.
Personally, I’m here thanks to my mother’s money, a little bit because of my Uncle Adrian’s reputation as one of the biggest crime bosses in the UK, and alotbecause of Gerard’s influence.
Gerard is Mom’s new husband. And I never thought I’d say this, but I adore him. I also never thought my mother would everdateagain, never mind get married. Not after my father. Or after what happened seven years ago.
I shiver, pushing that dark cloud away.
No. That’s over.
It’s done.
He’s dead.
They both are: mom’s monster and mine.
I exhale slowly as I step into the quiet rows of roses and statues. My phone dings. When I pull it out, I smile curiously at the text that pops up.
Chase:
I had a great time getting lunch with you yesterday. I’d love to do that again sometime soon.
My teeth drag across my bottom lip.
Starting fresh at any new school as an outsider sucks. Believe me, I know: I’ve done it enough times. But Knightsblood has been…extra. Extra hard. Extra shitty. Extra mean.
Extra keen to make sure I understand I do not belong here.
Message heard loud and clear, fuckers.
My roommate and her shitty friends have been the worst, clearly. Then there’s the faceless classmates and upperclassmen who don’t even look at me. Raphael, my new stepbrother, is here, and he’s pretty nice. But we don’t really know each other that well, and besides, he’s got his own thing going on, his own group of friends. Plus he’s a year older, so we hardly ever run into each other.
But curiously, there is one person who always goes out of his way to smile at me. To notice me. To say hello. And he’s the least likely of them all.
Chase freaking Cavendish.
Charming, charismatic, outrageously handsome, rich, and the toast of the entire school. He’s also a senior, and the president of Para Bellum, which is a huge deal.
