The first time Kai dared someone to die, they actually did.
It wasn't on purpose. Not really.
He'd whispered the words in a moment of careless spite, as if they meant nothing. But the look in the boy's eyes—that flash of terror, quickly masked by a grin—stayed with him for years.
That was the last day Kai Rivers saw sunlight in his hometown. The whispers that followed were louder than sirens. Murderer. Freak. Cursed.
So he disappeared. He vanished behind silence, new identities, and cities that didn't care who he was—until he turned seventeen and landed at St. Dismas Academy for the Elite.
The school was a fortress disguised as privilege. Guarded gates. Gleaming corridors. Students with teeth sharper than their fathers' knives. Money dripped from the walls like sweat. And secrets—secrets stained the marble.
Kai stood at the entrance with a duffel bag, a hood drawn low over his inky black curls, and dead eyes.
Inside him: rage, grief, and a plan.
He didn't come here to study.
He came to ruin things.
Ezra Hoshino was untouchable.
Top of the class. Captain of the fencing team. Dean's golden boy with that obnoxiously effortless smile. If you searched "perfect heir" online, Ezra's face would pop up—light brown skin that caught the sun, honey-dark eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and the kind of charm that made even the most guarded people laugh.
But no one knew what he did with his nights.
No one knew about the rooftop he climbed to every Thursday. The music he drowned in. The whiskey sips. The journal scribbled with thoughts he'd never say out loud.
He hated this life—hated being "Hoshino's perfect son."
But he wore the role like it was sewn into his skin.
Until he arrived.
The first time Kai saw Ezra, it was in the garden behind the art wing. Ezra was surrounded by people, laughing at something dumb a girl had said, tossing an apple between his hands like it wasn't from a silver tray carried by uniformed staff.
Kai stood under the trees, watching.
Ezra looked up. Their eyes met.
There was no romantic music. No fluttering hearts.
Only a sharp crack in the air between them—like a match being struck.
Kai turned away first.
Ezra didn't know why he kept looking.
Three days later, Kai left a note in Ezra's locker.
"I dare you to follow me tonight. Midnight. Pool house."
No name. No explanation.
Ezra stared at it, heart thudding.
Was it a joke? A prank? A trap?
He should've ignored it.
But Ezra Hoshino didn't turn down dares.
Not since he was fourteen and dared Dominic to kiss him behind the chapel.
Not since that kiss ended in blood and fists and three weeks of silence.
So at 11:59 p.m., Ezra was walking toward the abandoned pool house—heart pounding, breath visible in the chilled air, wondering what the hell he was doing.
The door creaked open.
And there was Kai, sitting shirtless at the edge of the drained pool, cigarette smoke curling around him like mist. Moonlight kissed his collarbones. His eyes were steel—cold, cutting, unreadable.
Ezra hesitated.
Kai looked up and said flatly,
"I dare you to kiss me."
That night didn't end in fireworks.
It ended in a kiss like fire and teeth.
It ended in Ezra pressed against cold tiles, hands roaming uncertain skin, heat simmering between sighs.
No promises were made.
Only a whisper:
"This game doesn't end until someone breaks."
Somewhere across campus, someone watched.
A pair of narrowed eyes behind a camera lens.
A click. A flash.
A smile.
This wasn't just love.
It was war.
Welcome to St. Dismas Academy.
Where dares are currency, and survival means never falling first.