A prestigious school.
A missing student.
A secret worth killing for.
St. Augustine Academy isn't just a school-it's a trap. A playground for the rich. A graveyard for secrets.
Cassian Moreou
Untouchable-rich, powerful, and protected by his family n...
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Going home was like breathing again.
The second I stepped off the train, I felt better. I slung my bag over my shoulder and weaved through the crowd, my legs moving on autopilot. My mother's flat wasn't far but I picked up my pace anyway. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it until now.
The building came into view, paint peeling on the edges, laundry hanging from the balconies above. It wasn'tmuch, but it was ours.
I took the stairs two at a time and knocked once before pushing the door open.
"Mom?"
A clatter from the kitchen. Then- "Oh my god, Elias!"
Before I could brace myself, someone slammed into me, nearly knocking me back a step.
I laughed, hugging her tightly. "Missed you too, Ma."
She pulled back just enough to cup my face, eyes scanning me like she expected to find a missing limb. "You look thinner. Are you eating enough? I swear, if those posh bastards are starving you-"
"Mom," I groaned, already smiling. "I'm fine. I promise."
She narrowed her eyes like she didn't quite believe me but let it go. "Well, you're home now. And I made your favorite."
My stomach growled on cue, and she grinned, ruffling my hair before disappearing back into the kitchen. I dropped my bag by the couch and sighed, letting myself relax for the first time in weeks.
I was finally home.
She set a plate in front of me, and I swear, I almost teared up.
Real food. Made with actual love instead of whatever rich-people nonsense they served at St. Augustine.
I took one bite and groaned. "God, I missed this." Mom chuckled, sitting across from me. I grinned, shoveling another bite into my mouth. "You can cook circles around those chefs as school."
She snorted, but then her smile softened. "How is school?"
I hesitated, chewing slower.
I could tell her the truth-that St. Augustine was suffocating, that I spent most days avoiding people so I didn't have to get reminded of my 'place' like they called it.
I mean, getting shoved into lockers, tripped in the halls, and sneered at like I was a stray dog wasn't exactly the elite education experience they promised.
Some days, I wanted to set the whole place on fire just to watch these posh bastards panic.
But then she'd worry. And if she worried, she'd try to fix it. And there was nothing to fix. This was just how things were.
So instead, I shrugged "It's fine, Ma. Same old."
She clearly didn't believe me but let it go. "Well, did you make friends?"
