CHAPTER FOUR - THE BEGINNING OF CHAOS

AIDEN

Imperial University

Even the name reeks of overcompensation. A kingdom of concrete, glass, and perfectly trimmed hedges where the rich pretend to be ordinary, and the ordinary pretend they belong. And me? I don't pretend. I don't need to.

I stood beneath the gilded archway of the main building, fingers lazily trailing over the cool marble column as students buzzed around me like flies on a carcass. All the same species. Anxious, desperate, hopeful. I can smell desperation like blood. And blood has always made me feel alive.

A Rolls idled at the curb behind me. My driver remained frozen in his usual place, spine straight like he feared my gaze might slit his throat if he twitched wrong. Smart man.

I lit a cigarette, ignoring the 'No Smoking' sign right beside me. Rules were for those who still believed the world was fair. I made sure it wasn't.

Then they arrived.

The black sedan barely halted before the passenger door flung open and chaos spilled out like a disrupted secret. Keira Knightley stepped out first, all polished elegance and calculated poise. She moved with that lethal grace only someone born into violence could carry. Her black boots made no sound on the concrete, and her dark shades hid eyes that had probably seen too much blood for someone her age. She wore her silence like armor. The air around her shifted—stiffened. People looked away. Instinctively.

A princess in name only. The Outfit didn't do tiaras and frilly gowns. They did silenced guns and backroom treaties. I knew who she was, even if no one else here did. Keira Knightley—sole heir to one of Chicago's oldest mafia families. The Outfit's bloodline ran through her veins like black fire.

And then Valentine Danbury stepped out.

She looked nothing like the lost little thing I'd seen years ago hiding behind Eden's legs, covered in soot and ash, mute with trauma. Time had carved her into something else entirely. Regal posture. Chin up. A hint of disdain in her expression, like the world owed her something and she wasn't afraid to collect.

But I knew better. The cracks were still there. Hairline fractures, waiting for the right pressure to shatter her again.

She wore black. A sharp contrast to her honey-gold skin and the softness of her features. Her lips were painted deep red—war paint, not decoration. The kind of red that made men follow, and monsters remember. She walked with the grace of someone raised in a cage and taught how to charm her captors. And when she looked up at the campus, I didn't miss the flicker of fear behind those stormy eyes.

Perfect.

I took a drag and stepped out from behind the pillar just as Keira turned toward her.

"Are you sure about this?" Keira asked, her voice low, even, with that practiced neutrality that never gave anything away. She clutched her designer duffel like it held secrets. Which, knowing her family, it probably did.

Valentine didn't reply at first. She simply stared up at the grand staircase leading into Imperial's main hall, where banners of blue and silver waved like promises they couldn't keep.

Then she said, "I've never been more sure of anything."

Lie.

I could taste it in her voice. Sweet, brittle, scared.

I walked forward.

"I thought this place was reserved for the gods," I said casually, letting my voice drip smooth and dangerous. "Or maybe just the ghosts of them."

Both girls froze.

Valentine turned first, and her eyes landed on me like a challenge. She didn't recognize me. Not yet. That would come later. When I wanted her to.

"Sorry. Do I know you?" she asked, her voice clipped but curious.

"You will," I smiled. "Eventually."

Keira stepped in front of her, slow and deliberate—like a lioness circling something she wasn't sure deserved to live. The soft demeanor was gone now, replaced with something colder. The Outfit's steel beneath Imperial's uniform.

"Who are you?" she asked, voice too calm.

"Aiden Ashbourne," I said, offering my hand but not expecting it to be taken. "Legacy student. Benefactor. Menace. Take your pick."

Valentine's gaze flicked to my hand, then my face. There was recognition in her eyes now—but not of me. Of my name.

Ashbourne.

The Danburys didn't talk about us much. Eden Danbury especially. But we were stitched into the same rotten tapestry. Our families used to be business partners, until my father went mad, my mother vanished, and secrets turned to blood.

"Ashbourne?" she repeated. "Any relation to…?"

"Eli Ashbourne," I said smoothly. "My father. Before he was committed, he used to dine with Eden and Krystal every Sunday. I'm sure they left that part out of the bedtime stories."

Valentine stiffened, just slightly. Keira's hand moved subtly—toward her side, near the waistband of her skirt. Protective reflex. Or habit.

Too late.

I leaned in just enough to let my words land where they'd stick. "Tell Krystal I said hello. And remind Eden that debts never die. They just fester."

Then I walked away, leaving behind silence, a swirl of cigarette smoke, and two very rattled girls.

Keira would try to dig into my past. She'd send someone, maybe two. They wouldn't find much, and what they did find would only make things worse.

Perfect start to the semester