He’s a prince, and he’s pretty much charming, too.

I still can’t believe how he came to me first and decided we’d become friends just because he saw me at one of Elites’ games. Oh, and he announced I’m invited to all his parties. They’re legendary and with limited access, so at first, I thought maybe it was another elaborate plan from Xander to fuck with me.

However, it’s been months, and Ronan remains a rock I can lean on. If it turns out to be a sick game, I might never return from it. I actually really like Ronan. He’s outgoing and funny, and he always shoos all the unwanted attention away.

And sometimes, even the fog.

He’s going into details about the type of weed he bought yesterday as we step into class.

“I’m telling you, Kimmy.” He leans in to whisper at my ear, making me stop at the first table. “That shit was cloud nine level. Do you want to try it?”

My eyes widen. “We’re at school.”

“Get a room,” someone says from class.

That’s when I realise the position we’re in. Ronan has an arm around my shoulder and I’m completely glued to his side as his lips hover near my ear. From the outside looking in, it appears too intimate.

But since I’m used to this from Ronan, I don’t stop to think about it anymore.

“That’s a great idea.” Ronan snaps his fingers in the voice’s direction. Silver. Of course, she’d say that.

I can’t believe we used to be close once. Now, she’s this exotic goddess, beautiful in a painful way with a model body and a venomous mouth, and she’s also a top-grade student. A basic bitch.

Who was once my friend. Who hugged me when Nana died and gave me one of her favourite Barbie dolls.

That time of my life used to be so full and then, in a moment, it became empty.

“Let’s go get a room, Kimmy.” Ronan smiles mischievously at me.

I hit his side jokingly.

But I can’t help wondering how my relationship with him would be if I’d known him as long as I’ve known the others.

Ronan only joined the four horsemen in our previous school. Maybe he, too, would’ve distanced himself if he’d known me since our childhood.

“Everyone take their seats.” Mrs Stone’s voice comes from behind us and I push away from Ronan to settle at the front of the class. Usually, Elsa or one of her foster siblings would be here with me, but now, it’s just me. Ronan is out since he prefers to sit at the back and sleep in peace.

As I settle in, a movement catches in my peripheral vision.

Xander.

He’s by the window, in front of Cole, who’s telling him something in his ear while clutching a book.

He doesn’t seem to be listening since his entire concentration is on me. It’s blank, though, as if he’s not really looking at me.

But he is.

I can feel his gaze, not on my skin or on my face, but deep in my soul. It’s invading me and touching parts he has no business touching.

I turn around and flop into my seat, fighting my heated cheeks. Just why the hell did I have to be in the same class with the four horsemen during my last year in RES?

I was almost surviving without having to see Xander’s face in every damn class.

Mrs Stone is speaking about a test, but I can’t for the life of me concentrate on what she’s saying. My mind keeps flickering to the back tables, where I feel someone watching me.

My nape prickles with unwanted attention and I squirm in my seat as if that will make the discomfort go away.

Something hits my arm before a crumpled piece of paper falls beside me. Letting my hair cover my eyes, I peek behind me to be greeted by Ronan’s grin.

He’s sitting right beside Xander, where the latter is clenching his pencil in a death grip. Ronan stretches both legs in front of him, twirling a black pen between his index and middle finger. He motions at the paper with his brows.

I throw a fleeting glance at Xander, but he’s focused on Mrs Stone. His expression is neutral, but his shoulders are rigid. Why the hell is he so tense?

After retrieving the paper, I unfold it discreetly. It’s a scribble in Ronan’s messy handwriting with a smiley emoji at the top.

‘Give the world a middle finger with a smile.’

I stare back at him and he winks. My lips instinctively curve in a smile.

Xander’s harsh gaze slides from Ronan to me and then stays there.

On me.

It doesn’t waver nor does he attempt to look away. He’s trying to intimidate me so I’ll be the one to cut off eye contact and cower down like I do every time he’s in my vicinity.

If looks could slice me open, Xander’s would be the sharpest blade right now.

But there’s something he’s forgetting. His war doesn’t scare me anymore. It can’t be worse than the fog or Kir’s disappointed gaze or the fear in his little eyes when he thought I’d leave him alone.

So I continue smiling. At Ronan, not at Xander.

I flip off those who slowly broke me, who turned me into this pathetic shell of a person.

Those who took pleasure in igniting my breaking point and watched me as I fell.

Those who threw me under the bus instead of pulling me to safety.

Those who fed the fog and allowed it to rule my life.

I follow Ronan’s advice and give the world the middle finger.

 

 

3

 

 

Xander

 

 

There’s a certain company in loneliness.

Yes, that sounds crazy, and yes, I still stand by it. This could be due to the coffee, er…vodka coffee I just had, but who cares?

The empty house sure doesn’t.

The people inside it are only paid by my father to keep their mouths shut. He makes them sign NDAs that would cost them their lives and three generations of their families sold on the black market.

People keep their mouths shut when they’re stuffed with the queen’s bills.

At least, those my father surrounds himself with do.

Our cook didn’t blink an eye when I made a coffee and poured alcohol instead of water. He just nodded and went about his business.

I stand by the huge French window, sipping my coffee and placing a hand in my pocket. You know, like a good upper-middle-class boy with decent grades, a popularity vote under his belt, and a pretty wonderful life.

Everything is laid out before me for the taking – the huge garden, the German cars in the garage, the high positions.

All of it is there.

And yet, it isn’t.

Is it okay to take what you need when you don’t have what you want?

The answer to that is yes, logically speaking, but I’ve been gradually losing that part due to my vodka.

And yes, I do answer my own hypothetical questions. Cole’s philosophy shit is starting to rub off on me.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice?”

I slowly close my eyes, inhaling deeply, before I turn around to face the only family I have left.

The one I wish had disappeared instead of Mum twelve years ago.

My father stands in the middle of the living area, which is filled with renaissance paintings and weird fucking art that he pays hundreds of thousands for at auctions.

Lewis Knight is a man of power in this country, one of the hotshot ministers who not only regulates the economy but also controls it. He’s – wait for it – Secretary of State for Business, Energy, and Industrial Strategy. Phew, I know, that’s a long title, but it goes with his ‘duties’, as he calls them.