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CHAPTER ONE — WELCOME TO CRESTWOOD
I never expected silence to feel so loud.
The gates of Crestwood University opened with a low groan, like even the school itself was hesitant to let me in. The ivy-covered walls were too clean, the polished statues too perfect. It was a campus designed to intimidate — and it did a damn good job.
But I wasn't here to be intimidated.
I was here to destroy everything.
I adjusted the strap of my backpack and stepped forward, heels clicking against marble steps as students turned to glance at me. Rich kids with custom blazers, old-money haircuts, and secrets buried in their perfectly trimmed smiles.
I smiled right back.
"New girl," someone whispered as I passed.
"She doesn't look like she belongs."
"She's hot though."
"Dead girl walking."
Good. Let them talk.
They didn't know I'd already buried the part of me that cared.
---
The administration building smelled like old books and even older power. I was ushered into a sleek office, where a secretary with blood-red nails handed me a folder and a fake smile.
"Welcome to Crestwood, Emily Hale. Your schedule, dorm assignment, and ID. Please make your way to the East Hall dorms. And—" Her eyes flicked over me like she was reading a scandal I hadn't written yet. "Try to stay out of trouble."
I tucked the folder under my arm and left without answering.
But the trouble had already begun. Because the moment I stepped out of the building, I locked eyes with him.
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He stood across the courtyard like he owned it.
Tall. Cold. Beautiful in the kind of way that made you want to bite down instead of kiss. His charcoal-black uniform fit perfectly, as if it had been tailored by the devil himself. He leaned casually against a marble pillar, one hand in his pocket, the other tossing a silver coin between his fingers.
Luke Caldwell.
The president's son.
The rumored king of Crestwood.
He looked bored. Until he looked at me.
Then his eyes narrowed, and something flickered behind them — like recognition. But we'd never met. I'd remember if I'd ever seen a face like his.
"Fresh meat," someone beside him murmured.
Luke pushed off the pillar and walked toward me. He didn't rush. Predators never did.
---
"I didn't know the admissions office started letting strays in," he said, stopping a foot in front of me.
I tilted my head. "And I didn't know Crestwood let egos walk around without leashes."
A flash of something — amusement? Annoyance? — passed through his face. But he didn't blink. Didn't look away. Instead, he smiled. Sharp. Icy. Dangerous.
"So you're the charity case."
"And you're the welcoming committee?"
"No," he said softly, "I'm the warning."
For a second, we just stood there, the air between us pulled tight like a wire. His eyes scanned my face like he was trying to peel it back layer by layer. I didn't flinch.
Then he stepped closer.
Way too close.
"You'll learn something real fast here, Emily Hale," he said, his voice like velvet with a blade hidden inside. "This place doesn't change for people like you. People like me? We were born to rule it."
I let a slow smile spread across my lips. "Then I guess it's time someone burned your little kingdom down."
His jaw ticked.
He took one long look at me — then turned and walked away, that damn silver coin still spinning in his hand.
---
Later That Night
Crestwood wasn't just a school. It was a fortress built on secrets.
I stood in front of my dorm room door, labeled East Hall 314, and slipped the key into the lock. Inside, the room was bigger than my entire apartment back home. Polished hardwood floors. A private bathroom. A bed big enough to lose yourself in.
I tossed my bag on the bed, walked to the window, and opened the curtain.
Across the courtyard, lights flickered in the West Tower — the elite dorms. Where people like Luke Caldwell lived. People with old money, new power, and bloodlines carved into the school's history.
But money didn't scare me. Blood didn't scare me.
I'd come here for a reason.
And Luke Caldwell? He was going to lead me straight to it.
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The Next Day – The Library
Crestwood's library looked like a cathedral. Stone arches. Glass skylights. A silence so thick, it felt sacred.
I found my assigned study table and sat down, only to feel a presence slide into the seat across from me.
Luke.
"Miss me already?" I said without looking up.
He didn't smile. Just leaned back in the chair, arms folded, eyes sharp.
"What's your real reason for being here?" he asked.
I raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"You're not just some transfer. You don't walk like one. Don't talk like one either."
"So you've been watching me?" I asked sweetly. "How cute."
He leaned forward, voice low. "Don't play dumb with me. I can smell lies better than most people can smell perfume."
I closed the book I hadn't been reading and met his gaze. "Then you should know I'm dangerous when cornered."
He smiled — slow, dark, and infuriatingly smug. "You're going to be fun."
Then he stood, dropped a folded note on the table, and walked away.
I opened it.
> Careful, Emily Hale. Some ghosts at Crestwood don't like being disturbed. And some kings don't like being challenged.
I didn't smile this time.
Because he wasn't wrong.
---
Later That Week – The Party
The first Crestwood party of the semester was invitation-only. I wasn't invited.
So I showed up anyway.
The house pulsed with music and shadows. Rich kids danced like they owned the night. I walked in wearing black silk and blood-red lipstick, every eye turning my way.
And then — I saw him.
Luke.
In the center of it all. Surrounded. Untouched. Untouchable.
Until his eyes landed on me.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Then he cut through the crowd and appeared beside me.
"You're not supposed to be here," he murmured.
I tilted my head. "Neither are ghosts."
He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if he wanted to kiss me or kill me.
Then he grabbed my wrist.
Led me through a door. Up stairs. Into a room with floor-to-ceiling windows and no one else around.
Let go.
Closed the door.
"I don't know who you think you are," he said quietly, "but you're playing a dangerous game."
"So are you," I whispered.
He stepped toward me.
I didn't move.
Then suddenly — he kissed me.
Hard.
Hot.
Wrong.
And for one stupid second, I kissed him back.
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Then I shoved him away.
He licked his bottom lip, where my lipstick now stained his mouth.
"You'll regret that," I said, voice shaking.
He smiled, all teeth. "Only if you don't come back for more."
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