I don't know what it is about the campus at Binsfeld University, but darkness hangs in the air here. The students breathe it in and let it sink heavily into their lungs before it settles into their souls. Every fall when it's time to come back to school I take in the ornate gothic church that sits on the south side of campus, the grand billowing oak trees that dance in the wind, and the grand library covered in twisting intricate vines.

Maybe it's because the town the college resides in is only miles from where I grew up. I watched this university become the epicenter for sins. The residual darkness flowing out into nearby cities, but the pulse was always here. This was where it was birthed.

But I guess the kind of wealth we have only aids in our sinning. We don't shy away from debauchery. We embrace the dark and twisted and turn it into our own chance to rise. Our own chance to step on the throats of others to get what we want.

Binsfeld University was created in wealth and has only succeeded in it. It is home to an exclusive staff of beyond qualified professors, and a student body whose families thrive in the top 1% of wealth of this country.

A university for the elite, the leaders, the feared.

I learned at a young age to not be scared of the monsters under my bed. They aren't as scary as they pretend to be. Their bark almost always harsher than their bite. Especially when I saw real monsters, because they weren't the creatures I created in my head that only lived in the dark. They were normal people, like my parents, doing terrible things and using their money to get away with it.

So I hardened my heart and pushed the weakness away. Because a woman can't be perceived as weak in this world. Not if I want to succeed. Not if I want to prove my father wrong.

Wind wraps around my ankles as I sit on a hard stone bench lost in thought. My eyes cast around to look at the picturesque school grounds that surround my friends and me.

"It's going to be weird," Annabelle, my roommate since freshman year, confesses from beside me. Her short brown hair is pinned up as the humidity sits heavily around us. The main campus is abuzz, as the fall semester has just begun.

"So weird," her cousin, Elizabeth, agrees. Her black wavy hair is longer than her cousin's as it brushes against her chest in the warm wind, and her dark skin shines in the sun.

"What is?" I question having not caught the beginning of their conversation as we sit in the courtyard. A tradition we began a year ago as we all realized we liked watching people more than actually speaking to them.

"The Heirs are seniors," Annabelle tells me as if I'm not painfully aware of them and the time left they have at this school. "Only one more year of them on campus," she says sitting back against the warm stone bench engraved with old, crusty men's names. Our donors. Most people can count at least four generations back of family names in this courtyard.

"That means I only have a year left to try and hook up with at least one of them," Elizabeth emphasizes with a sigh. She begins to lazily braid a random chunk of hair to the side, an old habit that is considerably less annoying to my mother than the one I have. Biting my nails.

Her cousin scoffs. "They're disgusting Liz," Annabelle chastises with an annoyed groan.

"Yeah," Elizabeth agrees easily. "Disgustingly hot," she adds with a smirk lifting her lips that seem to always be painted with cherry red lipstick. Red, bold, and in your face are the three words that not only describe her favorite color but the woman herself.

"They'll really be able to get away with anything this year," I remark with a slight roll of my eyes. Even speaking about these men makes my skin heat with anger at the way they are admired yet feared. Desired yet despised.

"The dean won't take a chance on them coming back here," Annabelle agrees.

"If they were anyone else they would've been expelled already," Elizabeth chimes in.

"Yeah, but they aren't anyone else," I point out. The Heirs to Hell are far from being just anyone. "The money they have are the reason schools like this even exist," I say matter-of-factly. Their families combined wealth could easily end world hunger and the water crisis in Flint, Michigan and buy every single homeless person a house twice over, and still have money left over to buy sports teams, fancy cars, and tropical islands.

Their wealth can buy anything. They've already proved that.

Elizabeth's eyes dart around to the clusters of students walking around as if anyone is even paying attention to us before speaking. "Do you think they did it on purpose?" she whispers.

"We shouldn't be talking about that," Annabelle states as her eyes flicker around worried someone might hear us.

"What?" Elizabeth challenges. "We've all heard the stories," she shrugs.

"Yes, we have," I sigh not wanting to speak of the night that lives in infamy not only in this town but also across the country. That surrounds me at all times as my brother decided to connect himself with those boys. Boys who were once arrogant yet innocent, but are now men who with a single look can destroy a person. Men who seem guiltily but got off scot-free. Men I refuse to bow down to like everyone else in this stupid town.

"I heard a girl in the journalism program was trying to sleep her way through the group to find out answers about that night and she hasn't been heard from since," Elizabeth murmurs the rumor.

"She transferred schools," I state hating the needless lies that float around about The Heirs and their debauchery. While some are true a large majority of rumors that rotate though the mill aren't and just boast their obnoxious egos. They thrive in the devious lies and malicious rumors. They are what created them along with the flames.

"After they posted videos of them all hooking up with her onto the schools website under extracurricular activities," she continues with wide eyes. The video was a huge scandal that almost truly got them expelled. But the fact that they blurred their faces, the IP address was untraceable, and the girl didn't press charges, nothing could really be done. But we all knew it was them. We all know what they are capable of. "I can't believe they talked her into a foursome," she says with a shudder of disgust.

"I heard they drugged her," Annabelle whispers.

"That was never proven," Elizabeth counters letting her inner future lawyer peak out.

"Her cat did die suddenly," her cousin replies.

"Her cat was old," I add with a small groan.

"Still," she points out. "There's a reason why people are scared of them, something went down that night," she states.

"Yeah, someone died," I clarify. That night seven years ago changed lives for the worse and it doesn't matter that it happened years ago it still gets talked about as if it happened yesterday.

"Whatever, if we really wanted to know James could just ask her brother," Elizabeth calls me out with a cross of her arms.

"Aiden wouldn't tell me shit," I tell her, and it's the complete truth. He wouldn't. He keeps his friendship with The Heirs very separate from his life with our family, and for a reason. He also isn't the young, innocent brother I once knew. After that night he changed as well. He had to if he was going to be on their side. He chose to stand on the wrong side of history and all at once it hardened him and his soul.

"Well maybe if everything wasn't a competition for you with him he might," Annabelle states with a pointed glare.

"It's not," I say with an edge hating the slight truth of her words. And in all honesty I'm beyond proud of my brother and his success. It isn't him I'm trying to prove anything to. It's my father who refuses to look my way.

"Okay," she sings obviously not convinced.

I drop my eyes to my lap and let out a sigh fly through my parted lips. I don't try and make everything a competition between my brother and me, but it's hard when our own father constantly compares us. Aiden can't do anything wrong. He's unbelievably smart without even trying, and he's athletic, and he's funny, and of course the cherry on top is that he's handsome.

And I'm just me.

"Did you hear Charlotte got a nose job," Elizabeth gossips quickly changing the subject with ease.

"Another one?" her cousin gasps.

"Yeah, apparently the last one wasn't up to her daddy's standards," Elizabeth tells her scandalously.

The large bell tower rings echoing all across campus letting us know it's exactly twelve in the afternoon. I stand swiping my hands over my bottom in case any dirt got onto my new Burberry linen trousers.

"I have to head to class," I say as I grab my leather tote and sling it over my shoulder. I reach behind me to pull my dark brown hair over my right shoulder letting the hot sun hit the back of my neck.

"Have fun!" Elizabeth tells me with a bright smile.

"Not likely," I grumble. "It's with Sanders," I tell her as we are both pre-law minors and have the same professors.

"Oh," she hisses through her teeth. "He's an ass," she states with a scrunched face.

I nod in agreement. "The biggest."

"Well text me after," she says whilst pulling her sunglasses out of her purse and slipping them on.

"Of course!" I smile. "Don't forget to grab popcorn," I say pointing a finger at my roommate Annabelle as I take a few steps backwards from the courtyard. Once a week we have movie night and it's just not the same without artificially flavored popcorn.

"I won't...this time," she trails with a chuckle. "Bye James," she adds with a wave.

I turn on my heel and begin to head down the large walkway that leads throughout the main part of campus. I weave my way through a few groups of people walking at a slower pace when I almost stop all together at the sight of the last people I want to see right now.

Dread slowly fills my veins as the bitter taste of frustration explodes against my tongue. I want to avoid them. I wish I could avoid them, but they are dead center in the path to my class and if I take the long way I'll be late. Which with Sanders is a huge mistake. He locks the door and deducts points from your overall grade for tardiness.

God, he's such a dick.

My green eyes flicker around me to see everyone stare at them. Watch them. Whisper about them.

Rumors spread about them daily like wildfire. Which is ironic considering a fire is what created them. Birthed the darkness that resides in their eyes and blackened hearts. Created the chaos that now makes them infamous.

"Is that them?" I hear a student behind me ask her friend.

"That's them," he responds. "The Heirs to Hell." His voice rings out as they pass me by. In awe. In fear. That nickname has stuck to them since that terrible night and it continues to haunt and follow them.

My feet reluctantly lead me forward marching aggressively onto the cement sidewalk. I hope to avert my gaze and avoid all contact with them, but green eyes that match my own catch me and I know I can't hide now.

My younger brother may be just that, younger. A sophomore in college, but his best friends are seniors. He's the only friend to the three boys who so lovingly refer to themselves as the next kings of Hell. The little brothers of the devil himself.

A newspaper once referred to them as The Heirs, as in to the country with their families combined success. An entire article dedicated to these boys who were famous simply because of their golden last names. But after that fateful night a journalist altered their nickname, and it stuck, and they reveled in it.

"Look who it is." A deep voice taunts from beside my brother as I come to stand before him and the three Heirs. My attention catches on amber eyes, which are the only bright part of him. The rest of him is drenched in darkness with his inky black hair and wildly dark soul.

Everett Kingston. He's the son of my father's partner at the law firm. Everett's a pretty boy, and he knows it. He's not just handsome, he's honestly beautiful and the women love him for it. But he's also got a wild streak that runs through more than just his conquests. He drives fast expensive cars, throws chandelier-breaking parties, and doesn't care what anyone thinks of him.

"Little Davenport." Another voice teases and my eyes shift to lock on bright blue ones. Ones that from afar look kind and friendly paired with his blonde locks and country club attire. He almost looks innocent. If you didn't know him and what he's capable of.

Lawrence Coventry III. His father died young but was attached to a long line of prestigious politicians. His mother remarried young and his stepfather was Vice President for a term. He's classically handsome with his blonde hair and blue eyes, but darkness lies under those looks that frighten most.

The nickname he uses for me, the one that all The Heirs have used in passing before, grates against my skin. It's their way to belittle me and push me down. To push their power, set their agenda, and let me know my place. My stomach twists as four sets of eyes continue to pin me to the cement sidewalk.

"Hi, Aid," I say to my brother who looks more like a twin than a younger brother. I consciously ignore the men who stand beside my brother. The men he decided to stand behind when the rest of the world saw them as murderers.

Only they didn't take the fall.

Nathaniel Gregory did.

"You all moved in?" Aiden questions as his friend's gazes narrow in on me for an answer. As if they actually care.

I don't like to show weakness. Ever. Especially to men, but their intense stares do unnerve me. I remember when they were younger and kinder. We all lived in the same neighborhood and I secretly always found their playful antics cute, funny even.

But then they grew and their once playful games morphed into something darker and needier until they began to burst at the seams.

"Yes," I state simply not finding a need to elaborate any further.

"Living in Providence Towers again?" A voice questions from behind my brother this time. A voice that has barely spoken to me in years.

Preston Rothwell. His father owns one of the oldest and most expensive motor companies in the country and his mother was born from old money, oil money to be exact.

He's intimidating with his height and strong squared jaw and narrowed chocolate eyes. He has a way of taking one look at someone and seeing right through them, assessing their weaknesses, and attacking.

A chill scatters down my spin at the sound of his voice as I lift my eyes to meet his darkened ones. "How did you know that?" I question with a hard glare.

A twisted smirk lifts his pink lips. "Got to keep tabs on little Davenport," he tells me with a warm honeyed tone but dead cold eyes.

I fight the urge to stomp my feet or push at their towering frames in anger. I resist the urge to fall into their petulant trap and become the child they keep saying I am. "I'm older than him," I say attempting to remain calm even though untapped heat is rising within me. "So stop calling me that," I tell them all harshly.

Lawrence lets his eyes drag down my form taking me in as my body begins to shiver with a sheen of nerves coating my skin. "I always forget what a temper she has," he comments with a drawl.

"Kind of hot," Everett adds deeply as the smirk on his lips grows wider. Like a wolf.

Aiden immediately punches his friend's shoulder. "Fuck you," he calls out. "That's my sister," he adds as to stake his claim on me as if his friends aren't aware. As if they haven't been intertwined into my life since I was a child.

"What?" Everett teases. "Just an observation."

"Don't talk about me to your friends," I instruct him as I shift my heavy tote on my shoulder.

"Fine Jamie," he says letting my mother's nickname slide off his tongue with a disgustingly sweet tone. The nickname he is fully aware I despise.

My blood simmers. "Screw you," I spit before turning and walking the opposite direction not caring that I'm heading away from my class. Not caring that I'm skipping class. I twist my wrist to have my eyes land on my solid gold watch.

I let out an aggravated sigh. I'm already late so there's absolutely no point.

"Bye Jamie," I hear one of them call out with a dark chuckle.

"See you later Jamie!" Another one adds.

Anger builds up in me causing me to flush as I make my way to my car that is parked in the main front lot.

My mind is reeling and I'm completely lost in thought that I don't even notice the girl in front of me until I run into her. My hands shoot out to steady her and an apology instantly tears from my lips.

"I'm so sorry," I say hurriedly as my eyes focus to see I ran into Charlotte Haynes. I can't help but let my gaze linger on the nose Elizabeth has just been gossiping about.

"Are you okay?" she asks though I know she doesn't earnestly care about me. We may have known each other since we were in diapers because of our mothers, but Charlotte runs in a completely different circle than me.

One closer to The Heirs and one that tends to ignore me.

"I'm fine," I rush out.

Her eyes flicker from me to someone behind me and a shameless grin lifts her perfectly glossed lips. "Your brother looks good today. Could you—"

I cut her off not able to hear the rest of her sentence without wanting to punch her. "Don't even," I grit out as I walk away from her and towards my car. With each step my body trembles with red-hot irritation.

I'm constantly ignored and overlooked not only by my father, but also the general public because of Aiden's connection to The Heirs. Because of him I've became somewhat of a social pariah with people only speaking to me if they want an in with my brother or his friends. Or if they want to here the sordid details of that unfortunate night.

Meeting Annabelle my freshman year was a blessing because she was a random roommate, and also out of state. Of course she knew the basics of the story coming from a wealthy family and with the story being splashed across every major news outlet for months on end, but she didn't know of my brother's involvement. So she accepted me with open arms, and in turn so did her cousin.

They are the only true friends I have.

But I don't mind being apart of a small group.

They help keep the fire within me alive by pushing me, loving me, and better yet never judging me.