Chapter 1
Aoife
The wind doesn’t whisper up here.
It screams.
It cuts through my clothes like a blade, tearing at the edges, howling through the pines above the cliff, like it remembers every soul who stood where I stand now, or worse, who didn’t walk away.
I come up here all the time and never wear a coat. Why would I? The air bites, but I like the sting. Tonight, there’s a party at Hollow Hills—the only place where everyone shows up knowing it might end badly. The Irish, the Italians, the Russians, and a few other families all claim their corners of the hill. We don’t mix. Blood has spilled here more times than anyone admits. The war between us never ends. Still, in a few days, we’ll all be back at school, pretending none of this ever happened.
My boots scrape against damp earth, the trail so narrow it feels like a test. One wrong step and I’d drop down into the jagged mouth of the sea where rocks wait, black, broken and hungry.
I keep walking, the cold stings my cheeks, and I welcome it. It’s the only thing I feel that’s real anymore.
Eighteen years of life, and somehow, it already feels over.
They’ve signed me away like I’m nothing more than a chess piece. A pawn in this game of war and power. Uncle Liam didn’t even look at me when he said it, didn’t even flinch.
“You’ll do what’s right for the family, Aoife. They’ve already arranged it.”
Arranged. As in marriage. As in me. To a man I’ve met once. A man more than twice my age who smells of cigars and power and old blood. And the ring on my finger is proof of this stupid arrangement.
A gold band with a stone that looks more like a punishment than a promise.
All because it will benefit the family.
The wind lifts my hair as I walk, tangling it around my face, I don’t push it away. The blast distracts me from the ache in my chest.
Across the sea, through the mist, the shadowed silhouette of Blackstone Academy comes into view, like something risen from a grave. All black spires, stone, and fog. Cold. Watching. Waiting.
On the surface, it teaches lessons in how to navigate and survive in the outside world. Beneath that, a school for monsters born into royalty. Heirs of the underworld. Sons of killers. Daughters of ghosts. It shapes them into executors, teaches them the rules, and most importantly how to survive.
That’s where I’m meant to be after the weekend.
I turn back to the sea, as a giant wave crashes with thunderous force against the rocks, sending plumes of white spray high into the air. A part of me wonders what it would feel like to fall. Would it be fast or quiet because the water and rocks would swallow my screams. One thing is certain, it would feel like I’m finally making a decision for myself. I inch closer, the gravel shifts and then I hear a voice through the wind.
“If you’re going to jump, then jump.”
My breath catches. Startled, I spin, and my boot catches something slick. My balance tips, my arms flail, heart jerking violently inside my chest, as panic rips through me.
Then a hand wraps around my wrist, hard and steady, rings biting against my skin from his fingers. If he lets go, I fall into the crashing waters, ready to eat me up, but he holds me there dangling on the edge.
My pulse is in my throat, beating wildly. I stare up through a veil of hair into the eyes of a boy
No. Not a boy.
Him.
Matteo Messina.
One of the triplets of Massimo Messina.
My stomach twists, as he watches me with a look that’s half smug, half boredom. Like he’s saved me from death for the fun of it, not mercy.
His grip on my wrist loosens, and I lose my balance, almost falling back again, but he tightens it again, and his mouth tilts up at one side in malicious amusement.
He glances down at my hand, at the ring, and smirks.
