The massive front door swings open, and the man who greets us looks like he belongs here. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. He surveys us like we’re specimens under a microscope, his gaze lingering for a fraction too long. “These two yours?” he asks, his voice calm but clipped.
My father inclines his head in a barely-there nod.
“Welcome,” the man says, stepping aside and motioning us into the hall. I was prepared to come here and not think much of it. Life like this is nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m used to wealth —glittering chandeliers, marble floors, and artwork olderthan my grandparents are nothing new—but this is something else entirely. Another level of riches.
My sister glances up briefly, her wide eyes catching on the massive chandelier that looks like it cost more than some people’s houses. Her expression shifts for a moment, softening with something like wonder. It makes my chest tighten, and I look away.
“These are my children,” the man says, motioning to two figures standing near the far wall. “My youngest daughter,” he says, indicating the petite girl with a polite smile, and big grey eyes, “and my son,” gesturing toward the taller boy leaning lazily against the wall.
The look in his eye would be slightly offputting—or even intimidating, I imagine—if he wasn’t so pretty.
I know him, of course.
Or I knowofhim.
Though I’ve never cared much for the media and their fascination with the golden boy.
Wren steps forward first, her warmth not entirely fitting in this frozen house. “Hi,” she says brightly. “Sorry about my brother. He’s, uh, not really a people person.”
Kai doesn’t react in the slightest, his gaze distant. I don’t know if it’s boredom or annoyance, but I don’t care enough to figure it out.
Wren’s attention shifts to me, her smile widening. “You have really cool eyes,” she says, her tone light and genuine.
I don’t reply. Compliments make me itch, especially ones like that.
Wren doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe she does, and she just doesn’t care. Her attention shifts to my sister, and without hesitation, she reaches out and takes her hand. “Come on. I want to show you something,” she says, tugging her gently toward the stairs.
My chest tightens as I watch them walk away. Every instinct screams to pull her back, to keep her close, but I stay rooted to the spot.
I know better.
If I cling too hard, I’ll snap her in half eventually. At least, that’s what Mother says. Although, I don’t think she’s too fond of me. Probably thinks I’m weird, like everyone at school.
Maybe I am a little different from everyone else, is that really such a problem?
Does that mean there’s something wrong with me, or with everyone else?
Kai finally looks up, his odd, multicoloured eyes meeting mine with a lazy sort of curiosity. For a second, we just stare at each other. “What?” he drawls, his voice mocking. “Never seen a split lip before?”
My gaze drops briefly to the crusted blood on his mouth. “Maybe you should put some ice on that,” I say.
His lips curl into a faint smirk, but his eyes flicker downward, landing on my sleeves. “Can’t say your arms look much better.”
I tug my sleeves lower, the fabric catching on raw skin. “Mind your own business,” I say flatly.
He raises an eyebrow. “Just an observation.” He shrugs. “You get into fights often?” he asks, although I can tell he knows exactly what’s going on. He knew from the second he saw the marks.
“You should see the other guy,” I reply in the same tone.
That earns a low chuckle. He watches me for a moment, then says, “Kai Steele.”
Will
Three years ago
The fire crackles, and the whole room smells like burnt cedarand money.
We’re on the couch, and it’s leather, dark, and stiff. Kai’s folded up in one corner, and I’m sprawled the opposite way, elbow on the armrest, head tilted back.
