Brighton Island is a large piece of land surrounded by forests and sea and is riddled with infamous castles from the Middle Ages.
However, almost half of the land has been used for centuries as an education hub. The other half is filled with some locals and a lot of pubs, shops, and entertainment parlors for the students.
Two large, regal universities occupy the north of Brighton. One is American and the other, where I study, is British. Admission into Royal Elite University—commonly known as REU—is as hard as securing an audience with the queen. Not only because of the fees that just the rich and their granddaddies can afford, but also because the educational system is tough.
The campus is divided into different universities with all important majors—such as arts, business, medicine, law, and human sciences. The education goes from bachelor degrees to PhDs.
Some students spend all their youth between the castle-like walls, studying until they collapse. But they still do it anyway.
Why?
Because those who graduate from here are granted a diploma that anyone in the world would immediately accept. The founders of Royal Elite University have picked the best professors, best councilors.
Best everything.
Except for maybe the location.
Because there’s that small detail I mentioned earlier. We share the north of Brighton Island with an infamous university.
The King’s U.
They’re founded by unknown money coming from the other side of the pond. Most students there are American and have a chip on their shoulders. Which is funny because they call us the snobby, posh rich kids.
They, however? They’re the dangerous kids.
The ones who walk with a chip on their shoulders and promise of crime on their faces.
Their university only has three main majors. Business, law, and medicine. That’s it. I think they used to have human sciences, but they closed it.
Cecily says it’s because they have no human bones in their bodies.
While REU is posh, sophisticated, and reeks of old aristocratic money, The King’s U is all about new money, sharp stares, and threatening auras.
We’re specifically told to stay away from them.
As far as possible.
And we do. But it almost always gets muddied in sports events.
But generally, there’s an invisible line between our two campuses. Between our posh English manners and their all-American ones.
It’s been like this for years. Way before my friends and I came along. In fact, there’s a high wall that separates their campus and dormitory from ours.
One that can’t be climbed or jumped over.
A wall that represents the deep hole between the two of us. Unless we have a competition with them, we don’t tread into each other’s waters.
Which is why I’m pulling on Cecily’s hand and promptly stopping her from barging into their campus.
We’ve barely just arrived and we’re currently near the metal gate. A golden lion holding a key sits at the top, under which is the name ‘Royal Elite University’ in sophisticated writing.
Even Ava, who’d usually be hugging her cello for dear life, has abandoned it and is holding on to Cecily’s other arm.
“Be reasonable, Ces. Just because you couldn’t find your notes, doesn’t mean one of The King’s U’s students took them. They don’t have access to our campus, remember?”
Cecily’s silver-dyed hair falls in disarray as she attempts to release herself from our hold. Her black shirt that says How About No kind of translates her whole mood. “Their stupid football team logo was on my locker. It’s them. And I’m going to see this through to the end.”
“And go missing?” I sigh, feeling the tension rising to my head.
“Small price to pay to catch those pricks.”
“You won’t be saying that when they get you locked up in their basement or something.” Ava shudders, then whisper-yells, “You know those rumors about them being financed by mafia money? I totally believe it. And I’m definitely not going to let you be chopped up nineties mafia movie style.”
“We’re in a country of law,” Cecily says with pure determination, and she even sounds to believe it.
“Law is bullshit to some people,” I say, feeling the terror from two days ago mounting to my throat.
“What she said.” Ava bobs her head up and down, then flips her blonde ponytail back. “Now, can we go back to the dorm without worrying about finding Ces’s corpse floating in the sea tomorrow?”
I can tell Cecily wants to continue with her original plan, despite our warnings. She’s usually laid back, but not when her things are touched, and I honest to God think she doesn’t give two flying hecks about the reputation of The King’s U’s students.
She might even witness them doing horrendous acts and would choose to psychoanalyze them instead of running the hell away.
Like her hair, she’s silver to me, not really white, and can be smudged with black.
Ava is, without doubt, pink, like her dress, aura, and personality.
“Excuse me?”
A soft voice interrupts my and Ava’s attempts to drag Cecily back with us to the dorms.
We share a small apartment at the top that costs a fortune but at least gives us the chance to stay together.
I stare back to find a petite girl, around my height but way leaner and with a lithe body, standing near REU’s gate. Her brown hair falls to her neck and her blue eyes are big and breathtaking amidst her small features. Juggling a soft pink backpack with a fluffy kitten keychain on one shoulder, she rests her matching suitcase on the asphalt and stares at us.
She’s wearing a purple dress with a lacy hem with an elegance that rivals Ava’s princess wardrobe.
Having the same reaction as me, my friends study her intently. It’s Ava who asks, “Do you need something?”
“Yes, would you please tell me where the School of Art is?”
American.
The new girl, who must be right out of high school, is definitely an American—if the accent is any indication. And while we do have some American students at REU, they’re very few and far between. They always try to get to The King’s U first. It’s also why almost all of us British students don’t even attempt to apply to the other university.
“Are you perhaps lost?” I say with a warm tone, then point behind her. “The King’s U is that way.”
“Oh, I know. They don’t have a ballet school there, so I applied here and luckily got accepted between semesters. I’m going to try and do the college thing aside from ballet, but we’ll see how that goes.” She smiles brightly. “I’m Annika Volkov, by the way. You can call me Anni or Anne. Just not Nika.”
“I’m Ava Nash. A cellist. I study classical music at the School of Arts and Music.”
“Cecily Knight. Psychology major.”
The newcomer, Annika, stares at me expectedly, and I realize she’s waiting for me to also introduce myself.
I’m so out of it lately, it’s a little embarrassing. Maybe I should lock myself in my room for the week to come.
“Glyndon King. I’m a studio art student in the same school as Ava.”
“Nice to meet you all. I’m sure we’ll get along.”
“Judging by your fashion sense, I’m sure we will.” Ava glues herself to Annika’s side. “Let us show you around your new school first.”
Cecily slides her black-framed glasses over her nose and shakes her head in a ‘here we go again’ gesture. Ava has always been the most social out of us, and she’s probably met her match in Annika since they’re chattering happily about fashion and the latest trends.
We let Ava guide Annika through the giant halls as Cecily and I fall a step behind.
I feel a flash of movement in my peripheral vision and I freeze. Slowly, I turn back, only to find some students are buzzing around.
But the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and sweat trickles down my back.
Cecily nudges me. “Want to bet on how long it’ll take for her to call the new girl her bestie?”
I startle and hold in a yelp. “What? Ah… Ava? Yeah, probably soon.”
Cecily stops in her tracks, watching me intently. “What’s up, Glyn? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nothing… I just spaced out.”
She touches my arm and I know not to take that for granted. Cecily is the type who has her emotions in a vault, so the fact that she’s offering me any type of consolation is a big deal in and of its own.
“I know the pain must still be raw, but it’ll get better with time, Glyn. I promise.”
I stare dumbfounded for a beat, and then I realize she’s talking about Dev. That should’ve been my first thought, too, but right now? When I felt a shadow following me?
That definitely wasn’t on my mind.
“Thanks, Ces.” I rub her arm back, grateful to have her.
She’s a year older than Ava and me and the most serious out of all of us, but she’s also the most motherly. Probably why she chose to study psychology in the first place.
If I tell her about the other night, she’ll listen and won’t judge me.
But that means I’ll have to tell her why I was there in the first place, and that’s just not going to happen.
Not in this lifetime.
A small smile lifts her lips. “Let’s go save the poor soul from Ava.”
“How about you save me from my misery instead?” The cool tone takes us by surprise, and soon enough, the owner of said voice barges into the space between me and Cecily and wraps an arm around our shoulders.
Remington Astor, or just Remi—who’s about three years older than me—grins down on us with his all-encompassing charm. His brown eyes twinkle with mischief and pure trouble. He’s built like a Greek god and has an aristocratic nose that’s courtesy of ‘his lordship’ stature, as he likes to remind us. Small tidbit about Remi, he always talks about himself in third person and says things like, ‘my lordship did this’ and ‘my lordship did that.’
Someone else follows close behind him. My cousin, Creighton. Well, technically, Creigh is my second cousin since my dad and his are cousins. However, my brothers and I always called his dad Uncle Aiden.
He’s a year older than me and so extremely quiet that you barely hear his voice, but that shouldn’t be mistaken for shyness. This little shit simply doesn’t give a fuck about anyone.
Or anything.
His silence is merely a manifestation of his boredom. And somehow, that gets him all the attention on campus without him even trying. It’s been like that ever since our secondary school days.
That, and the fact that he does a lot of fighting.
And while his sharp features and piercing blue eyes have something to do with his popularity, it’s his ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude that makes girls melt for him faster than cheese on pizza.
The more he ignores them, the more crushingly popular he becomes. Something that Remi doesn’t appreciate since Creigh’s stealing away his golden-boy status.
They’re both business majors—Creigh is second year, while Remi is fourth year. Needless to say, girls in the business school fall over themselves to get a sliver of their attention.
I’ve grown up with these guys all my life. Our parents have been friends since they were in school, and we’ve kept the legacy going.
When you’re children of parents who hold the personality of gods, you learn to stick together. To somehow keep up with the pressure of having such parents.
It’s part of the reason why we’re naturally close. In a way, Remi and Creigh are no different than Lan and Bran.
Okay, maybe just Bran. Lan is in a league of his own.
Cecily rolls her eyes at Remi’s dramatic tone. “And what misery might that be?”
“The fact that none of you girls asked me for a ride back to campus. I even had all your favorite songs saved for the road trip.”
“That’s because we could drive just fine,” Cecily says. “Besides, you left me on Read the last text I sent you.”
“Moi?” He releases me, retrieves his phone, and stops in his tracks. “No way in fuck… Creigh, you little shit. What did you do now? Did you crack my code?”
My cousin, who’s on the other side of me, shrugs but says nothing.
I crane my head and find Remi’s phone filled with pornographic pictures.
“Pig,” I say under my breath.
Cecily goes red, and if Ava were here, she’d call her a prude, because she is, in a way. Cecily just doesn’t do well with any talk that’s sexual in nature.
“You’re disgusting,” she tells Remi.
“No, Creigh is.” Remi grabs my cousin by the collar of his polo shirt. “He’s the one who hacked into my phone and put all of that in.”
Creigh’s expression remains poker-faced. “Proof?”
“I’ll beat the fuck out of your arse, you cheeky bastard.”
“You can try.”
“I can’t believe this!” Remi grumbles. “I adopt a weirdo under my lordship’s umbrella and he tries to sabotage not only my popularity status but also my noble name. I’m going to disown you, spawn! Don’t come running to me with your tail tucked between your legs when you can’t slip out of a crowd on your own.”
“I’ll survive.”
Creigh’s methodical, somewhat emotionless reply only riles Remi up more. “Don’t text my lordship when you’re bored.”
“You’re the one who does that.”
Remi narrows his eyes, then grins. “I won’t be covering up for you when your parents call. Try beating that one, spawn.”
Cecily interlinks her arm with Creigh. “Never mind him. We’ve got you.”
“Hey!! Don’t go stealing my adoptive son.” Remi pushes her away and inspects Creigh. “Did the female cougar do anything to you, spawn? Tell my lordship and I’ll take care of her.”
My cousin raises a brow. “I thought you were disowning me?”
“Nonsense. If I disown you, how will you survive?”
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?” Cecily crosses her arms. “Your attention to Creigh is the method you use to feel that you’re doing good, so it’s self-service.”
“The nerd police called and they’re saying you’re too nerdy for anyone’s liking.”
“Sure it wasn’t the manwhore police saying you’re at top risk of STDs?”
“Says the prude.”
“If you think that’s an insult, try again. At least I’m not at risk of contracting STDs.”
“There’s a thing called a condom. Ever heard of it? Oh, sorry, forgot you’re a prude.”
“He did forget to use one once,” Creighton says and we all turn to him. “Condom.”
Remi headlocks him. “Don’t go telling my lordship’s secrets, you cheeky bastard.”
Cecily is like a dog who’s found a bone and goes after Remi with the viciousness of a warrior.
I laugh, or more accurately force it out, pretending to be happier than I actually am. Pretending that this scene can help reduce the chaos brewing inside me.
A dash of black flashes in my peripheral vision, and I spin around so fast, I’m surprised I don’t trip.
It was there again.
I’m sure that someone was looking at me from the shadows, watching my every move.
My body heat rises and I rub my palm on the side of my shorts. Once.
Twice.
My phone burns in my pocket and I can’t stop thinking about the text I got two days ago.
I refused to think about it at the moment, shoved it to the background, and pretended that it belonged with the rest of the baggage that’s ruining my life. But I don’t think I can do that anymore.
Is it even about Dev anymore?
Or is it so much worse?
The banter from the group I’m in starts dissolving until it becomes white noise. My vision turns blurry.
Everything is.
I can’t even see my fingers.
My right foot steps back and then the other follows. I’m retreating, but I don’t know where to.
Or how.
All I’m sure about is that I need to get the hell out of here.
Now.
I’ll text the guys later and tell them I was feeling under the weather. Though maybe I need to switch up that excuse, considering I’ve used it quite a few times lately—
A strong hand slams against my mouth and I shriek as I’m flung backward.
The only sound that comes out of me is an eerie, muffled noise overflowing with desperation for life.
A savage hand wraps around my mouth as my back hits the wall. My eyes widen when they meet with those psychotic ones.
They’re dim, lifeless—just like two nights ago.
He tsks, his voice a darkened whisper. “You sure are hard to be found alone, Glyndon.”
