He flicked a card onto the table between us. It landed face down with a soft snap. Then he tapped it twice with his index finger, right over the black raven printed on the back, wings spread wide, beak pointed skyward. A club deck. All my father’s cards had that same signature design, marked with the crew’s symbol.
“I don’t get it,” I said, my gaze shifting from the card to his face.
“Raven Night,” he stated simply as if those two words explained everything.
“What about it?” I sipped my coffee, wondering if this was going to be a conversation I regretted starting.
“We’re switching things up this year.” His eyes locked on mine, and the smirk grew wider. “We’re the last Corvos at Public. It’s our senior year. We’re going out with a bang.”
“How so?” I asked, though part of me already knew I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“We’re kicking off the football season the same way we end it,” he said, pushing off the counter and standing fully upright now. “At the church. The wildest party in Elmwood.”
“Raven Night,” I repeated slowly, my brows bunching together. I’d been right. I didn’t like the answer.
He nodded, rocking back on his heels with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.
Raven Night wasn’t just a party. It was the one night everyone let go of pretending. Anything could happen and usually did, but it stayed contained within those walls like a secret everyone agreed to keep. No photos. No stories the next day. No names attached to anything that went down.
Secrecy was the price of entry.
You didn’t get invited—you got marked. A black raven stamped somewhere on your skin, temporary ink that meant you belonged inside for one night. Masks were mandatory, supposedly to hide identities, though it was a joke more than a rule. Everyone knew everyone. The masks just gave you permission to be worse versions of yourselves without consequences.
It was dark and unhinged in the worst way.
Raven Night was where reputations were made, broken, or buried, and where the Corvos had learned a long time ago that chaos could be just another kind of power.
I studied Mason for a long moment. “How long have you been planning this?”
“All summer.”
“And you’re just now telling me? Does Kreed know what you’re planning?” I asked.
“Kreed doesn’t live here anymore,” Mason reminded me. He picked up his own coffee and took a long drink. “He doesn’t call the shots at Public. We do.”
He wasn’t wrong. Kreed had graduated last spring and moved on, leaving us behind to handle things ourselves. Still, if Kreed got wind of us throwing a Raven party, especially at the church, it would turn into a problem I seriously didn’t want to deal with.
Then again, I could use a night off to get completely wasted. The bottle and I were old friends. I stared into my coffee, watching the dark surface ripple slightly. I lifted my gaze, meeting Mason’s. “Fuck it. Why not?”
Mason flashed his dimples, the start of all things trouble where my twin was concerned.
One good thingabout Raven Night was it gave Mason something to do other than meddle in my life, which meant I had until next Friday before he started harping on me again.
A party might not be the most responsible thing when we were supposed to be hunting down the names on our list. Silvia was the highest target. With her, we could get the names we didn’t know, the missing players.
It was distracting as hell, having my mind split between crew business while trying to get through senior year. School might have just started, but I could tell I was going to be in trouble. Coach had already given me the lecture on maintaining my grades, especially if I had any hope of being scouted, which had always been my dream. The one thing I wanted for myself.
Dropping into my stool, I said nothing, just grabbed the edge of Hales’s seat and yanked her closer to me. I didn’t bother asking permission. If we were going to be lab partners, then she would have to deal with sharing her shit with me.
I sensed her gaze on me but kept mine averted. I wasn’t ready to look into her unusual eyes.
“Do you ever plan on bringing your own book?” she fired at me, flipping her hair to the other side of her face, and I got a whiff of her shampoo. I was starting to recognize her scent.
My gaze lifted, taking in the sculpted downward turn of her mouth. She had really great lips, which I should definitely not be staring at, but I couldn’t move past them. “Why do I need mine when I can use yours?” The heavy thing sat on my desk at home gathering dust while I showed up to class empty-handed day after day. I found it so antiquated when teachers refused to use an online version of the text.
Mr. Gifford began his lesson. We both leaned in over the desk, reaching for the book at the same time, our fingers brushing. A zing of electricity jolted through my hand, and she jerked hers back. I scowled, opening the book and flipping through the pages. Something slipped loose. A folded piece of paper. It fluttered onto the desk.
I grabbed it before she could, my hand shooting out and closing around the paper. “What’s this?” I asked as I lifted the note.
