
The sun struggled through a gray winter sky as Aiden Cole jogged down the cracked sidewalks of East Hollow, his breath misting in the frozen air.
Houses stood hunched and broken, paint peeling, windows taped up with cardboard. Most people here gave up dreaming a long time ago, but not Aiden.
He clutched the worn strap of his backpack tighter as he neared the rickety building that housed him, his father, his mother, and his little sister Emily. Aiden's world. His reason to keep fighting.
Inside, the smell of frying eggs and cheap coffee filled the air. His mother, Mary Cole, a woman with tired eyes but a bright smile, greeted him with a kiss on the forehead.
His father, Thomas, set down the newspaper, the job ads section circled in red ink, and gave Aiden a nod that said everything words couldn’t. "Any news today?" his sister Emily chirped, her hair tied up in uneven pigtails.
Aiden forced a smile. "Not yet, Em. But... maybe soon."
In truth, hope had been gnawing at his insides for days. He had applied for the National Excellence Scholarship.
A miracle ticket offered once a year to only one student in the entire state. Full tuition to Gravesend Academy, the academy of the rich, the powerful, and the untouchable.
But kids like Aiden didn’t win things like that. Not here. Not ever. The front door banged loudly, the mailman, in his patched-up uniform, saluted lazily and shoved a stack of bills and flyers through the slot.
Among them... A thick, cream-colored envelope. Heavy. Embossed seal. Aiden’s heart thudded against his ribs. His mother caught it first. "Is that, ?"
He tore it open, fingers trembling. Inside, a single sheet of elegant parchment:
Congratulations, Aiden Cole. You have been selected for full scholarship admission to Gravesend Academy, beginning this semester. We look forward to witnessing your brilliance. Headmaster Valenwood
For a second, no one moved. It was as if time itself held its breath, then Emily shrieked and threw her arms around him.
His father laughed, a real, deep laugh Aiden hadn’t heard in years. His mother’s hands shook as she pressed the letter to her chest, whispering a prayer of thanks.
They celebrated that night with a feast, frozen pizza, instant noodles, and the cheapest root beer they could find. It tasted better than anything Aiden had ever eaten.
"I’m so proud of you," his mother whispered as she hugged him tight that night. "Promise me, Aiden... no matter what happens, never forget who you are."
"I promise," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.
The next morning, Aiden stood outside a different kind of building, Gravesend Academy.
It towered like a fortress, its iron gates gleaming under the pale sun. Beyond them, a marble fountain flowed endlessly, surrounded by pristine hedges trimmed into perfect geometric shapes.
Students milled about in tailored blazers and expensive watches, laughing, texting, posing for photos beside luxury cars.
Aiden wore his best, a secondhand jacket that didn’t quite fit, and a backpack stitched with duct tape. He straightened his shoulders anyway and walked forward.
The stares started immediately. Some curious. Some disgusted. Most... amused. A group of boys in matching blazers leaned against a polished BMW.
One of them, tall, blond, with a smirk carved into his face, stepped forward. "Hey, look, guys. The charity case arrived," he drawled loudly.
Aiden ignored him. Head high. Eyes forward, but the boy wasn’t done. "Careful, peasant. Try not to stink up the place."
Snickers rippled through the group. Aiden's fists clenched at his sides, but he remembered his mother’s words. “Never forget who you are.”
He kept walking. The first day was brutal. Teachers called roll and paused at his name, as if it were something dirty.
Students shifted seats away from him. Whispers followed him wherever he went. At lunch, he sat alone, picking at a cold sandwich. He was mid-bite when a soft voice spoke: "Mind if I sit?"
He looked up. A girl. Golden-brown hair that caught the light like fire. Emerald green eyes. A perfect smile.
Isabelle Lane. The Vice President’s daughter’s girlfriend.
He had no idea who she was yet. No idea how important, and how dangerous, she would become.
For now, she just smiled and sat down beside him, offering half of her chocolate bar. "You look like you could use a friend," she said. And for the first time all day, Aiden smiled back.
As the final bell rang that day, Aiden gathered his books slowly. Students filed past him, laughing and texting.
As he stood to leave, a hand, rough, strong, clamped down on his shoulder. He turned.
It was the blond boy from the BMW. Up close, his name tag read "Bryce Maddox."
Bryce’s grin was all teeth. "Listen, dirt rat. You’re not welcome here. You don't belong here."
Aiden stared him down, refusing to flinch. Bryce leaned in closer, voice low and chilling: "Watch your back, Cole. Accidents happen here all the time."
Then he shoved Aiden hard against the lockers and sauntered away, his laughter echoing through the hall.
Aiden stood there, heart pounding, breath ragged. He realized, in that moment, that Gravesend Academy wasn't going to be the dream he imagined. It was going to be a battlefield, and the first shot had already been fired.

Latest Chapter
Chapter 10: No Safe Haven
The city smelled of rain and smoke. Aiden raced through the backstreets, the stolen papers clutched to his chest, Nina’s last message searing itself into his brain. "They're onto me. They're coming."Panic clawed at the edges of his mind, but he shoved it down. Nina was smart. Cautious.If they had her, it was because someone had betrayed them, and betrayal always came from the inside.He made it to the safehouse fifteen minutes later, an abandoned apartment above a pawnshop in the dead heart of Winterfell.Every instinct screamed at him as he crept up the rickety stairs. “Trap. Trap. Trap.”The door to their hideout was ajar. “Bad sign.” Aiden drew the small pistol from his waistband, a battered thing, half-rusted, but loaded.He edged the door open with his foot. Inside, the room was wrecked. Chairs overturned. Papers scattered.The wall safe hung open, gutted. Blood smeared the floor like paint, and in the center of it all, Nina, tied to a chair. Head hanging.Breathing shallow. Sh
Chapter 9: The Mask of Kings
The rich liked to pretend they were untouchable. Aiden Carter was about to remind them how wrong they were. The Gala of Kings. Winterfell’s grandest night. A masquerade held once a year inside the ancient, gleaming walls of the Seraphim Hotel, where golden chandeliers dripped light like molten diamonds, and power oozed from every silk-draped corner.Tickets were invitation-only. The Vice President, his son Bryce, and all their crooked allies would be there, masked, drunk, smug, and somewhere inside that glittering fortress?The ledgers. The real ones. Hard copies. Proof. It was Nina's intel, hard-won and soaked in risk. It was also a suicide mission. Perfect.Aiden stood in the alley behind the hotel, rain slicking his hair to his forehead, heart thundering. His "borrowed" tuxedo itched against his bruised ribs.A black-and-silver mask, stolen from a drunken partygoer, hid half his face. His invitation?A forged card tucked into his pocket, courtesy of a contact Nina had paid in blo
Chapter 8: Ghosts of Winterfell
The dead never stayed buried in Winterfell. Especially not the ones Aiden Carter had made.Two days after the ambush, Aiden sat in the corner of a smoky, nameless bar, nursing a split lip and a whiskey he could barely afford.The suits had been just the beginning. A message. A warning. One he intended to answer, in blood and ruin, but brute force wouldn’t win this war. Not yet.First, he needed to starve Bryce's empire. Break his money, and the power would follow.That’s where her name came in. Nina Valdez.The Vice President’s "legitimate" bookkeeper, a woman known for laundering dirty money so clean it smelled like roses.If Aiden could turn her, he could cripple Bryce's entire operation from the inside. It wouldn’t be easy.Nina was careful. Paranoid. Protected but everyone had a weakness. Aiden just had to find hers.He started by shadowing her. For three days, he watched Nina move through Winterfell’s upper city, a place of glass towers and pristine parks, where blood money pave
Chapter 7: Blood Oaths
The blood oath wasn’t optional. It was a contract, older than any written law. One that stitched loyalty into bone and betrayal into death. Salvador made that very clear the next morning."You think last night earned you a seat at my table?" Salvador scoffed, circling Aiden like a shark. "That was a favor. A courtesy."They were deep inside Salvador’s underground compound now, a network of tunnels, repurposed bunkers, and labyrinthine backrooms hidden beneath Winterfell’s crumbling dockyards.The scent of oil and iron hung heavy. "This, " Salvador held up a slim, wicked blade, ", is your real initiation."Aiden’s fists clenched. He’d come too far to flinch now. "I’m ready," he said.Salvador grinned, teeth flashing like a predator. "We’ll see."The ceremony took place in a narrow chamber lit only by flickering, oil-stained torches.The walls were etched with old symbols, signs of gangs long forgotten and bloodlines long broken.Ten men stood in a ring, faces masked by black hoods. In
Chapter 6: Hunt the Hunter
The night turned sharp and cold. Winter mist slithered through the alleyways as Aiden fled Saint Augustine’s glowing towers, leaving chaos in his wake.He didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to breathe. Every step could be his last if he hesitated.Marcus found him first, peeling out of a side street on a battered black motorcycle. "Get on!" he barked.No questions. No second guesses. Aiden swung up behind him, the engine roaring as they sped away.Behind them, sirens wailed, not campus security. Real police. Or worse. Aiden clutched the flash drive in his pocket so tightly it cut into his skin. Evidence. Insurance. Target.They ditched the bike five blocks later. Marcus pulled Aiden into an abandoned parking structure, glancing around warily. "You’ve got maybe an hour before they flood the city with your face," Marcus said, voice low. "Maybe less."Aiden leaned against a pillar, catching his breath. "What do I do?" he asked.Marcus’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. "You disappear."It
Chapter 5: Blood in the Water
The old Aiden would have hesitated. He would have reasoned, pleaded, hoped for justice.That Aiden was dead now, and what rose in his place was something colder. Sharper. Something that would not stop until the debt was paid, in full.The plan had to be flawless. Aiden spent the entire night drafting it out, lines crisscrossing a notebook page, notes written in furious, tiny script.Marcus watched silently from across the room, only nodding once when Aiden finally looked up. "We hit them where it hurts," Aiden said."And where’s that?"Aiden’s eyes gleamed. "Their pride."The Saint Augustine’s Winter Ball was two weeks away. A gala for the elite, senators’ sons, billionaire daughters, royalty in everything but name.It was the highlight of the semester, a showcase of wealth, privilege, and carefully curated power.Bryce would be there, smug and untouchable. So would his father, the Vice President of the country.Security would be tight. Perfect. If Aiden could humiliate Bryce publicly
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