Prologue

PROLOGUE

The lecture hall door swings open with a creak that's more suited to a haunted mansion than a university, and we spill out like wayward marbles on a too-tilted table. I'm jostled between the bodies, but it's all good-natured shoving, the sort that comes with the territory of being mates.

"That was rather tedious," Jess, the only girl brave enough to hang out with our crude group, heaves out a sigh. Her words are aimed at Professor Fletcher who just droned aimlessly for an hour.

"Waste of time," Ollie adds with a huff of annoyance. But he’s always annoyed. It’s just his personality. I blame it on his ancestry. Rumor is he’s got royal blood running through his veins. His great-uncle was an actual duke. So it's no surprise that he's a right prick.

"Pure drudgery. I’d transfer classes if you ask me," Alfie, my best friend and partner in crime, voices his opinion as we quickly make our way outside.

The weather is surprisingly nice for London in March and I lift my face to the sky to get a bit of sun before it’s gone. This bloody country is too damn colorless. One would think Russia —my birthplace—is depressing. But they probably haven’t spent the past eight years in this wet, muddy mess.

"Isn’t it too late to transfer classes now?" Jess’s voice reaches me and I realize I blanked out again for a moment. It happens a lot lately. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve been thinking about my upcoming graduation too much. What will I do after I get my diploma? Will I work for my older brother Vlad, making some flyers for his new nightclub in Vegas? Or will I be able to make my own choices? Get the job I actually want in the city I like. Far far away from the Solovey family and their shady dealings.

"Anyway, let’s not talk about lectures anymore. I can’t wait to graduate and bugger off to Ibiza to party all summer," Ollie says with a face so sour like he’s going to his own execution there and not to drink and fuck.

"Good for you, rich boy!" Jess replies. "I bet you’re going to hole up on your yacht with your German Countess, shagging her senseless."

Laughter ensues.

"Hey, Sasha!" Tom hollers through the din, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "When're you gonna bring a bird around? You've got half the girls on campus—and some of the lads—panting after ya!"

"Leave off, yeah?" I roll my eyes, shaking off his arm.

"Seriously though," Jess pipes up, flipping her hair back with a flick worthy of a shampoo advert, "you're too cute to continue being single. It's a terrible waste."

"Maybe I'm just picky." I deflect with a wink, knowing well enough they're just taking the piss. But inside, there's a cold knot because it's not about being choosy. It's about being safe. And if you belong to the Solovey family, it’s a difficult undertaking—especially when instead of the said girls panting for you, you have your eyes set on the lad on the rugby team. But that’s all it is —you can look but you can never touch. If your family finds out, you’re dead. And he’ll be dead too.

"Or maybe he's saving himself," Alfie chimes in, sidling up next to me. His vibrant green hair is a welcome contrast against the drab backdrop of the campus. He nudges me with his elbow, waggling his eyebrows in mock-conspiracy. "For His Princess Charming."

"Princess Charming could sod right off," I retort, but there's warmth there. Alfie gets it more than most. Still, I prefer not to bring up the subject of romantic partners or anything of the sort. Even with him. It could lead to my secret being exposed. Secret I’ve been fiercely guarding these past eight years. Secret only my father knows. And now that he’s dead, I can't risk Vlad finding out.

"Speaking of charming, lend me your Lambo tonight, yeah?" Alfie whispers in my ear as we turn in the direction of the parking lot. "Got a hot date and I really want to impress her." Alfie’s grin is a flash of lightning, brilliant and dangerous.

"Alfie, mate." I clap his back. "For you, anytime." That car isn’t really my scene. It's just a shiny toy from my brother. The ostentatious gift for my twenty-second birthday that feels more like a reminder of a gilded cage than a gesture of affection. "Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to drive a Beetle."

"Exactly why you won't miss your baby for one evening!" Alfie's persuasive and knows how to play his cards right.

"Your marvelous long legs won’t fit in Alfie’s bug, darling." Jess snorts before saying goodbye and walking off to her next class.

The last of our mates peel away, their laughter scattering like paper in the wind. It's just Alfie and me left, idling in the shadow of the uni's brutalist architecture on our way to the parking.

"Alright, you've twisted my arm," I say jokingly, tossing him the fob, the metal cool against my palm before it's gone. There's a trust there, implicit and unspoken.

Alfie catches it with a victorious whoop and hands me the keys to his own car—a beat-up Volkswagen he’s been trying to fix up ever since I met him during my first year here at uni.

"Bet you forty quid she'll fancy me more for the ride than my charm," he quips, his smile all teeth and trouble. He’s a charming asshole, who manages to seduce every girl that crosses his path. I bet my late father would love someone like him for a son more than he ever loved me. Bloody asshole. Father or not, I’m mostly glad the twat is dead.

"Make it fifty and you've got yourself a deal," I shoot back, scanning the lot for his battered bug.

"Cheers, Sasha! You're a diamond. You truly are!" Alfie shouts, taking off. "See you on the flip side, mate!"

"Sure thing—don't do anything I wouldn't do! And better bring her back in one piece, Alfie!" I call after him.

My hands are buried in the pockets of my jacket as I take a moment to watch him. The cold seeps in, a creeping chill that tells me the sky's about to open up and weep. The sun that was here a minute ago is gone, devoured by the clouds. But then again, London's skies are always on the brink of tears.

"Bollocks!" Alfie's voice booms across the lot as he yanks the door of the vehicle open. "I feel like a bloody millionaire already!" His infectious grin is the last thing I see before he slides into the vehicle.

I can't help but smile to myself, shaking my head and muttering, "Arseho–"

My retort hangs unfinished, a word of affection cut short by the sudden roar that tears through the calm of the parking.

Flames erupt from the car with feral speed, engulfing it in a hungry inferno. Scorching heat lashes at my face while I'm rooted to the spot, watching in horror as the world around me transforms into a surreal painting. The colors are too bright, the sounds too sharp. The stench of burning rubber and fuel hits me like a punch to the gut. Still, I am frozen in place, terror clawing its way up my throat.

And then it hits me.

Alfie!

Oh no, please no!

Somewhere in those flames is my best mate.