Chapter 1 The gala queen

Lauren's POV

“Wren! The wine!”

I caught the tray Gwen shoved at me before it crashed to the floor.

“Please tell me you're joking.” I whined.

“We're down to three bottles.” she said to me.

I glanced toward the ballroom.

Three bottles wasn't going to survive another ten minutes.

“Fine.” I let out, grabbing the tray and pushing through the crowd.

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

The Ashford Academy Founders' Moon Gala was the biggest event of the year. Alpha families, Witches, politicians, business owners, council members, alumni and enough influential people to make a scholarship student's stomach hurt were packed inside the Grand Hall.

And somehow, I had been trusted with making sure everything ran smoothly.

Which meant if something went wrong, everyone would know exactly who to blame.

I checked my clipboard as I walked.

Centerpieces? Check.

Table's setting? Double check.

Stage decorations? Perfect.

The only thing missing was the Gala Queen.

Serena Whitmore.

I glanced toward the grand staircase where she was supposed to make her entrance from but still nothing.

Of course.

Serena had apparently decided that being late was another privilege of being important.

Which, to be fair, it was.

At Ashford Academy, Serena Whitmore wasn't just another student.

She was THE student.

Student Council's golden girl. Top of her class. Daughter of one of the academy's most influential families. The face of almost every school campaign and charity event.

It was only logical to crown her gala queen..

She was also the girl who had spent years reminding me that I was here on scholarship.

Not in a dramatic way where she shoved me into a locker and poured drinks over my head. It was more like a constant side comment against me that she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear or making one of my books go missing before an exam or a table suddenly becoming full whenever I approached.

Small things that were easy to deny and hard to forget but I couldn't afford to fight back either.

My scholarship covered everything Ashford gave me and one bad semester could take it away and one disciplinary report could send me home.

So I kept my head down and I made sure nobody had a reason to remember me.

I left the grand hall and into the main school premises and I headed for the storage corridor.

The further I moved from the ballroom, the quieter it became.

I reached the storage room in under five minutes and found the wine crates stacked against the wall and transferred some bottles into the tray.

I reached for the last one when I noticed a faint glow down the corridor.

I frowned slightly as the thoughts of lights being left on in the old laboratory.

I glanced at my watch and worried for the fact that everyone was supposed to be at the ballroom and these labs were locked during school events.

I should keep walking but instead, my scholarship-nerdy instincts kicked in.

If the lights were left on, someone would blame the event staff.

And somehow, that would become my problem.

“Two minutes Wren.” I told myself before setting the crate down and heading towards the lab.

The door was slightly opened and as I pushed it wider, I had expected the smell of cigarettes or sex, something to confirm the reason the light was on.

I was halfway to the light switch when something red caught my attention.

A thin trail stretched across the floor, starting near the doorway and disappearing beneath one of the laboratory tables.

I frowned.

Paint?

Someone had spilled paint? Seriously?

I crouched and touched the edge of the trail with my fingertip and the paint was warm.

I brought my finger closer and smelled it.

My stomach twisted at the metallic sharp scent.

For one second, every reasonable thought in my head told me to leave.

"Okay, Wren. Don't panic."

I could feel the way my heart started racing.

I followed the trail with my eyes until it landed on the culprit even though the culprit was on the floor beneath the table.

A silver fabric was soaked in blood and blonde hair spread across the floor.

I forced myself to breathe even while my eyes settled on the face.

Serena Whitmore.

The girl who had spent years making sure I knew I didn't belong at Ashford was lying lifeless on the floor.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

My brain refused to understand what my eyes were seeing.

Maybe it was just a prank even though she had this hollow lost look on her face that I have never seen before.

Serena Whitmore didn't belong on the floor. She belonged under the lights and surrounded by people instead of red paint.

I forced my legs to move closer. “Miss Whitmore?"

She didn't move.

I got closer, the hem of my gown sweeping over the blood.

"Serena?” reaching for her shoulders, my fingers met her cold arm as I shook her gently.

"Wake up. Serena, come on."

Her head rolled slightly to the side and a wave of nausea hit me along with realization.

"No." I whispered.

My eyes dropped to the knife beside her and the blood on the table and more blood stained in front of her dress.

I reached for her wrist, blood smearing all over my hand as I tried to feel her pulse but there was nothing instead pink envelop I noticed in her grip.

Suicide notes.

I tried to breathe as I reached for it and tearing it up, tears already welling up in my eyes as I tried to imagine this was a prank and that she wasn't actually stabbed to death.

I opened the envelope to find a flashdrive and a note.

Hey, Wren. It's Serena.

“If you're reading this, it probably means I'm already dead and they've gotten to me.

I know this is a fucked-up way to involve you, especially after everything I've done to you. I know I don't deserve your help.

But Ashford isn't what you think it is and everyone is hiding a secret and therefore can't be trusted.

I'm choosing you because you're different from us but the moment they find out you have this, they'll come for you too, and…”

The sentence stopped there.

I stared at the unfinished line and my chest instinctively started to tighten.

‘They'll come for you too.’

What the actual fuck.