The city never slept.
Neon lights blinked like tired eyes, flashing promises of luxury, love, and lies.
Elian sat on the crumbling rooftop, the cold wind whipping around him.
In his hand, the black envelope fluttered like a dying bird.
Seven days.
The words carved themselves into his soul.
Seven days to find a girl he didn't even know.
Seven days to survive enemies he couldn't even see yet.
Seven days before the clock ran out.
And nobody, nobody, knew.
Not the teachers who sneered at him.
Not the classmates who laughed at him.
Not the girls who whispered about him behind manicured nails.
Not even Sophie, the only one who sometimes offered him a weak, guilty smile.
Elian pressed the key — heavy, black, and ice-cold — against his palm until it hurt.
He welcomed the pain.
It reminded him he was still alive.
For now.
---
The next morning...
It was just another miserable day at Garnet High.
The bell screeched as students filed into homeroom.
Elian dragged himself to his usual seat — back corner, next to the cracked window.
His seat was the only one without a name tag.
Nobody ever bothered to put one there.
The others had shiny plastic tags with gold lettering:
TARA LANGSTON.
BLAKE HART.
DRAKE SUTTON.
All names that mattered.
Elian?
He was a rumor.
A mistake.
The boy who smelled like old books and rain.
The boy who had nothing, wanted nothing, was nothing.
Or so they thought.
---
Miss Halstrom, their young but venomous homeroom teacher, clicked her heels to the front of the class.
She wore a pencil skirt that clung too tightly to her sharp hips, and glasses she pushed up her nose with a single manicured finger.
She hated Elian.
Everyone knew it.
Today, her eyes gleamed with particular malice.
"Class," she chirped, "we have a new transfer student!"
The classroom buzzed instantly.
Transfer students were rare.
And usually bad news for someone.
Elian didn't look up.
He didn't care.
He didn't have the energy to care.
But then...
The door creaked open.
And silence fell over the room like a guillotine.
---
She stood in the doorway, raindrops clinging to her dark hair like tiny jewels.
She wore the standard Garnet High uniform — plaid skirt, white blouse — but somehow made it look royal.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent under the buzzing fluorescent lights.
Her lips were blood-red.
Her eyes were... violet.
A color that shouldn't exist.
The same as the girl in the photograph.
Elian's heart slammed against his ribs.
Was it her?
Had she come to find him?
---
Miss Halstrom cleared her throat, annoyed by the silence.
"This is Celestine Vale. She'll be joining us for the rest of the year. Let's all make her feel welcome."
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Everyone just... stared.
Because Celestine Vale wasn't just beautiful.
She was dangerous.
You could feel it in the air — like the sharp taste of electricity before a storm.
Celestine didn't even glance at the class.
Her violet eyes scanned the room once — a queen surveying peasants — and then, with terrifying grace, she walked straight to the empty seat next to Elian.
The one nobody wanted.
The one reserved for nobodies.
For trash.
For him.
---
As she sat down, her skirt brushing his tattered jeans, Elian caught the faintest scent of lavender and steel.
She crossed one long, pale leg over the other and turned slightly toward him.
Her voice was a whisper — meant only for him.
> "Seven days, Elian Frost."
He froze.
His hands clenched into fists under the desk.
He didn't even remember breathing.
How did she know his name?
How did she know about the seven days?
Before he could say anything, Miss Halstrom clapped her hands sharply.
"Eyes front, everyone!"
The spell broke.
The students turned back toward the blackboard, though many sneaked glances at Celestine with barely concealed lust or fear.
Elian sat still, heart hammering.
What was happening?
Who was she?
Why now?
---
During lunch, Tara and her court immediately cornered Celestine.
Tara flipped her platinum hair, flashing her perfect white teeth in a shark-like smile.
"So, Celestine," she purred, "where are you from?"
Celestine didn't even blink.
> "Somewhere you wouldn't survive."
Tara's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, laughing a little too loudly.
The other girls joined her, but the fear was already there, creeping in behind their glittering eyes.
Celestine walked away without another word, heading for the rooftop.
Sophie, lurking nearby, saw the whole thing.
And her gut twisted in warning.
Whoever Celestine was, she wasn't normal.
She wasn't safe.
And somehow... she was tied to Elian.
---
Later, on the rooftop...
The rain had stopped, but the clouds remained, heavy and brooding.
Elian found Celestine leaning against the rusted railing, gazing out over the city like she owned it.
He hesitated.
Then, before he could chicken out, he stepped forward.
"Who are you?" he demanded, voice raw.
Celestine turned her head slightly, her violet eyes unreadable.
"I'm your fiancée," she said simply.
Elian staggered back a step, cold all over.
"What?!"
Celestine smiled — a smile that promised nothing but trouble.
"You have seven days to prove yourself worthy, Elian Frost. Or we both die."
The wind howled around them, carrying her words into the gray sky.
Elian stared at her, feeling the ground slip out from under him.
This wasn't just about survival anymore.
This was war.
And the battlefield was his own ruined life.