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GLYNDON

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 allAmerican 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.”

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