Chapter 4 – Meeting the Rich Boys
Sam's POV
They look even worse up close.
Not in the way of acne or sweat or bad hygiene—no, these boys are polished, sharp, dressed like they walked straight out of a glossy magazine spread. Their shoes shine. Their collars are crisp. Even their smirks seem rehearsed, like they’ve been practicing their entire lives how to look untouchable.
And maybe they are.
I grip the doorframe tighter so they won’t see my hands shake.
The one in the middle leans casually against the wall, arms crossed. Blond hair styled perfectly, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes are ice blue and cold as hell. He doesn’t need to introduce himself—I already know who he is.
Declan Ward.
The name tastes like ash in my mouth. Captain of the lacrosse team, heir to Ward International, and one of the last people who ever saw my sister alive.
Next to him is another boy—taller, darker. His skin glows with a rich tan, his black hair slicked back like he just stepped out of a pool commercial. He smirks lazily, like he knows every secret in the world and none of them can touch him.
That’s Adrian King. His family owns half the hotels in the city. My sister used to wait tables at one of them.
The third boy is slimmer, wiry, with curly brown hair and a mouth that never seems to close. He’s grinning wide, eyes darting between me and Elias like he’s sizing me up for fun.
Nathaniel Reed. His father’s a senator. I’ve seen him on TV, smiling next to his golden-boy son.
These are the kind of people who can buy silence. Who can bury police reports. Who can bury girls.
Declan’s gaze flicks over me like I’m an insect he hasn’t decided whether to squash yet. “New blood?” His voice is smooth, controlled, the kind that makes people listen.
I nod, forcing my voice lower. “Yeah. Sam Hale.”
Adrian tilts his head, a slow grin spreading. “Sam Hale, huh? Never heard of you.”
“Not surprised,” I mutter, keeping my eyes down.
Nathaniel laughs. “Oh, he’s got a mouth. I like him already.”
They push past me without waiting for an invitation. The scent of expensive cologne follows them, thick and suffocating. My room—the one I’m supposed to share with Elias—suddenly feels smaller, the air swallowed by their presence.
Elias doesn’t move from his bed. He just watches, gray eyes unreadable, book still in his hands.
Declan drops onto my bed like he owns it. My bag is still there, half-unpacked. He nudges it with his foot, smirking. “So where’d they dig you up from, Hale? You don’t look like Ashwick material.”
My stomach twists. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. He’s just testing me.
“Scholarship,” I say, keeping my tone flat. “Guess I got lucky.”
Adrian chuckles, leaning against my desk. “Scholarship kid in Dorm 9? That’s a first.”
Nathaniel whistles low. “Bet you’ll be fun.”
My heart thunders in my chest. Every instinct screams at me to scream back, to claw at their faces, to spit out what they did to her. But I can’t. Not yet. Not here.
Instead, I force a crooked grin. “Guess we’ll see.”
Declan studies me like he’s peeling back layers. Like he can see the lie beneath my skin. His smirk doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Dorm 9 isn’t for everyone,” he says finally. His voice drops, quiet but sharp. “You’ll figure that out.”
It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.
He pushes off the bed, brushing past me so close I smell his cologne—spice and something bitter underneath. Adrian follows, still smirking, while Nathaniel tosses me a wink.
“See you around, Sammy boy,” he calls as they leave, laughter echoing down the hall.
The door clicks shut, and the silence that follows is deafening.
My chest heaves. My nails bite into my palms. I can still feel the weight of Declan’s gaze, heavy and cold.
That was them. That was the gang. My sister’s monsters.
And I just let them walk away.
The rage bubbles hot in my throat, so strong it almost chokes me. But then I feel another gaze, steady and sharp.
Elias.
He hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t moved. He just watches me from his bed, like he’s filing me away in some secret drawer in his mind.
Finally, he speaks. “You don’t look like scholarship material.”
My breath catches. The words sting more than they should.
I force a laugh, rough and low. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”
He tilts his head slightly, still studying me. His gray eyes are unreadable, but his voice is soft, deliberate.
“I’ll bet.”
The way he says it makes my skin prickle.
I turn back to my dresser, pretending to fuss with my clothes, but my hands are trembling.
Because for the first time, I wonder if the real danger isn’t just the rich boys who killed my sister.
It might be the one I’m forced to sleep across from every night.