A mass text had already lit up the Havenridge student network: The Dark Twins are throwing down tonight. Catacombs. Midnight.

It didn’t take long for the buzz to spread. Everyone knew what that meant—no rules, no lights, no faculty interference. Just shadows, bass, and trouble.

Ryder Blackwood arrived early with his twin sister, Raven, and their closest friend, Helix. The three of them moved through the underground stone tunnels like they owned them—because, unofficially, they did. While Raven lit candles along the carved alcoves and Helix set up the speaker system, Ryder unpacked crates of stolen liquor and tucked his tattoo kit into a corner booth. He always worked the parties—ink and adrenaline made for easy money.

As the first waves of students filtered in, music pulsed through the damp walls and drinks started to flow. Ryder settled into one of the arched alcoves lining the far end of the catacombs, cigarette burning low between his fingers, a faint cloud of smoke curling around him. His black boots rested on a cracked stone step, posture loose but watchful.

He scanned the growing crowd with sharp blue eyes—measuring, assessing, amused. Some came to be reckless, others to be seen. Either way, Ryder didn’t miss a thing.

Helix approached, shoving a cold beer into Ryder’s hand.

Ryder took it with a quiet nod, his smirk tugging lazily to one side. “Cheers to chaos,” he muttered, raising the bottle to no one in particular before taking a long pull.

The night was just beginning.

"Who is that?" Ryder knew all the faces at Havenridge but the female that just walked in was fresh blood, and he wasn't the only one who noticed.