Chapter 2

The air outside the academy is cold enough to bite, but Elliot is warm beside me, practically dragging me toward the waiting Uber he ordered before I even agreed to go out.

That’s Elliot, always two steps ahead, always with glitter in his veins.

We slide into the backseat together, and he gives the driver the address of the underground club in a low, conspiratorial voice, like he’s sending us to a secret kingdom.

As the car pulls off, Paris unfolds around us like a postcard ...