The first time someone offered me a truth at Sinners Academy, it tasted like honey and burned like acid.
It happened in the garden courtyard—the one they called The Hush, where gossip bloomed better than the roses. The sky above was bruised violet, a storm flirting with the edges of the skyline, and I had just stolen a file I wasn't supposed to touch.
And then there he was.
Killian Vale.
Leaning against the marble column like he owned every breath I took.
"You're getting reckless," he said without looking at me.
I tucked the file into my coat. "You say that like it's a compliment."
"It wasn't. Unless you want people to start asking questions about who you really are."
I turned. Met his gaze. "Let them ask."
He raised a brow, something wicked curling at the edge of his mouth. "Careful. You're not the only one who knows how to play pretend."
The tension between us crackled. Not the kind that screamed danger, but the kind that whispered ruin me if you dare.
Killian pushed off the pillar, closing the distance. "What's in the folder?"
"What makes you think there's anything in it?"
"Because I know that look on your face. It's the same one you had when you kissed me under the Thorne statue three years ago. Right before you lied."
I shouldn't have flinched.
But I did.
Just a fraction of a second. Barely enough for anyone else to notice.
Killian noticed.
"You came back with blood in your eyes," he murmured, stepping so close I could feel the heat from his chest. "What I don't understand is whether you're here to destroy me or save me."
"You flatter yourself."
"Not really," he said. "Just trying to decide which one of us is holding the match."
He reached for the file. I didn't move. Let him take it. Let him feel the weight of the secrets inside.
But I didn't expect what came next.
He opened it. Skimmed the pages. And his expression changed.
Not to shock.
Not to amusement.
To fury.
"Where did you get this?" His voice was low, clipped. The tone he used when he wasn't playing anymore.
I folded my arms. "You don't scare me, Killian."
He looked up, dark eyes sharper than glass. "You should be."
Killian didn't say anything for a long moment. Just stared at the contents of the file like it was something radioactive—like it might burn him if he held it too long.
"Where did you get this?" he asked again, quieter this time. But it wasn't the kind of quiet that meant calm. It was the kind before an explosion.
I didn't answer. Not because I wanted to be mysterious, but because I hadn't decided if I trusted him with the truth.
Killian exhaled slowly. "This file... it's from The Vow's archives. This shouldn't even be outside their vault."
So I was right.
I'd suspected it, but hearing it from his mouth confirmed it. The file wasn't just a list of names and donations—it was a map of leverage. Who owed favors. Who could be broken with a whisper.
And Killian had recognized it instantly.
"You're part of it," I said slowly. "The Vow."
He closed the file with a snap. "Everyone at the top is, Raven."
"Were you always this corrupt, or did it happen after I left?"
His jaw clenched. "You don't get to do that."
"What?"
"Stand there and act like you're some moral crusader." His voice was like a knife, sharp and cold. "You disappeared without a word. Left me to take the fall for something we both did."
"I left because I had no choice."
"You always had a choice. You just didn't pick me."
The words landed harder than they should have. Maybe because they weren't entirely wrong.
I hated him for that—for knowing exactly how to cut through the armor I'd spent years building.
"Do you even care what's happening under this school?" I snapped. "Or are you too busy sitting on your throne to see the rot under your feet?"
His eyes flicked toward the file again. "I care more than you know."
"Then help me."
The silence that followed was dangerous. Not because he didn't respond, but because I could see him considering it.
He should've laughed. Mocked me. Thrown the file into the fire and told me to go to hell.
Instead, he said, "If we do this, there's no going back."
I stared at him. "There was never any going back, Killian."
Another pause. Another beat of electricity between us.
"Fine," he said finally, tucking the file under his arm. "But I'm not doing this for you."
"No," I said, turning away. "You're doing it for yourself."
And maybe, just maybe, for the version of us that still existed somewhere under the poison we both drank.
Killian Vale was staring at me like I'd just threatened to set fire to his empire.
His grip on my arm slackened, and I stepped back—not because I feared him, but because I didn't trust what he might do next.
"I don't know what you think you're playing at," he said slowly, his voice low, even, a blade concealed beneath velvet. "But you're starting to push too far, Raven."
I smiled, not sweetly. "That's rich coming from the guy who acts like this school is his personal playground."
Killian let out a harsh laugh. "Sinners Academy is a battlefield. I just learned to win early."
My eyes flicked to the ring on his hand—the one that gleamed like a silent oath. "Then maybe it's time someone rewrites the rules."
His expression darkened. "You think you're the one to do it?"
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "What if I am?"
For a long, drawn-out second, the air between us crackled like a live wire. We were alone in one of the old music rooms, the piano still echoing from the unfinished sonata I'd interrupted by entering. He'd been playing something mournful, something aching. Now, that silence hung between us, thick as smoke.
"You talk a big game," Killian said at last, walking slowly around me like I was prey he wasn't quite ready to pounce on. "But I don't think you have the stomach for what it really takes to survive here."
I met his gaze dead-on. "Try me."
He stopped in front of me again, our breath nearly mingling. His tone dropped. "You want to bring fire? This school doesn't need a match. It's already burning."
"Then maybe I'm just here to finish what someone else started."
For a heartbeat, something flashed in his eyes—regret? Fear? Recognition?
"I should warn you," he murmured, leaning in so close I could smell the scent of cedar and ink on him. "This place has a way of breaking people like you."
I didn't flinch. "I'm not breakable."
He smiled, slow and sharp. "We'll see."
The door creaked suddenly behind me. I turned just as a shadow stepped into the light.
Lucien Thorne.
Killian's cousin. Smiling like he'd just caught the juiciest scandal of the term.
"Well, well," Lucien said smoothly, his voice silk with a serrated edge. "Didn't mean to interrupt your… piano lesson."
I stepped back instinctively, suddenly aware of how close I'd let Killian get.
Killian straightened, his jaw ticking. "Lucien."
Lucien strolled in like he owned the place—which, knowing his last name, he probably did. "Don't let me stop you. This is all so…" His eyes darted to me. "Unexpected."
Killian crossed his arms. "What do you want?"
"I came to check on the guest list for the Winter Masquerade. But now I'm wondering if I should bring popcorn instead."
I rolled my eyes and turned toward the door. "This was a mistake."
But as I reached for the handle, Lucien said, too casually, "Careful, Moreau. Poison looks prettier in a crystal cup. And promises here—well, they're usually poisoned."
I froze.
Killian stiffened.
Lucien smiled, all teeth.
"What did you just say?" I asked slowly, turning back.
He lifted a shoulder. "It's a saying. Around here. Didn't Killian tell you?"
Killian looked like he wanted to strangle him.
Lucien's gaze gleamed as it met mine. "You should come to the masquerade, Raven. You might enjoy seeing how well everyone lies when they're wearing masks."
I didn't answer.
I didn't have to.
Because I already knew I'd go.
Not for the party. Not for the spectacle.
But because something was happening beneath the surface of Sinners Academy. And no one wore their real face.
Not even Killian Vale.
Especially not him.
---
Later that night, I stood in front of the cracked mirror in my dorm room, staring at my own reflection like it might speak back.
What was I doing?
Coming back here was supposed to be about revenge. A clean mission. A list of wrongs. Payback with no complications.
But instead, I found myself caught in a web I hadn't even seen being spun. One spun with the silk of old betrayals, new threats, and looks from Killian that shouldn't make me feel anything.
He was supposed to be the enemy.
The boy who chose his future over me. Who let me burn to save himself.
So why did his voice still linger in my head?
You want to bring fire? This school doesn't need a match. It's already burning.
He was right.
And maybe I didn't come here to save anyone.
But I sure as hell wasn't leaving without lighting a fuse.
My phone buzzed. A single message.
Unknown Number:
*Your father wasn't the only one who knew