Page 1 of Lunar Crest University

Prologue

FINLEY

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH, 2023

Lunar Crest is a quaint little town in northern Maine, encapsulated in yellow, orange, and red from the leaves that speckle the maple trees and cascade across the ground. It resembles autumn year round, with picturesque fall colors and crisp air that lingers well within summer—a cold weather lover’s dream.

September is my preferred month of the year. It’s cool enough for oversized sweaters and those thick, fluffy socks my mom always gets me for Christmas, but not enough to bite at the tip of your nose as you step outside.

I can walk to work and back to my apartment without freezing to death, listening to music at top volume through my headphones as I travel down obsolete alleyways and sidewalks. Those walks are my favorite. Most people here drive or take the bus, since it’s a minuscule town, so there’s no one around to bother me on my daily strolls. It’s calming—my form of therapy.

Which is exactly what I’m doing now—walking down the alleyway closest to my apartment for the second time today. Thesun sets over the quiet town, dusk quickly plunging everything into a darkened haze. My shift at Celestial Readsbookstore and café ended twenty minutes ago, the same time it ends every day until classes start and my schedule differs.

I have a knack for schedules—organization, being timely, and writing everything down in my planner. I know exactly what’s happening every second of every day, and I like it that way.

So, as I walk down the shadowy alley toward home, head tilted down as I scan my phone screen for the next song choice, I’m thrown entirely off balance when I run smack into someone’s shoulder. Stumbling back slightly, I rub my aching nose as my mouth falls open, and my eyes land on two men before me.

The scary, mammoth-sized man I ran into has his hands wrapped around the other guy’s throat, pinning him up against the brick wall. My stomach churns—this feels like something I’m not supposed to see. Unfortunately, my suspicions are confirmed, as his dark eyes narrow at me, lips curling in disgust. My eyes widen as they flicker toward the guy who is possibly seconds away from being murdered, and annoyance seeps into my veins when the first thing that crosses my mind is how handsome he is.

His dark, wavy brown hair descends just along the tops of his ears, connecting with a five o’clock shadow that accompanies a full mustache soaked in the blood dripping from his elongated nose. His thick eyebrows hover above his brown eyes—rich with gold flecks that flash slightly as he stares at me. There’s no way I can bring myself to look away, not until he grits his teeth and draws my attention to the angular shape of his jaw.

Only a psychopath would notice something like that right now. Maybe I’m crazier than the guy with his hands wrapped around Handsome’s throat.

Focus, Finn.

I may have just interrupted an attempted homicide.

The stinging in my nose subsides the moment the frightening man releases his potential victim, lunging toward me with a growl I can hear over the music still filling my ears. As I step backward with a yelp, the cord to my headphones yanks the buds free, and I trip over something, falling on my ass. My black hair obstructs my view as it cascades in front of my eyes on impact, and my hands sting from trying to catch myself on the concrete. I quickly scoot in the opposite direction of my oncoming attacker while a breathless whimper escapes my lips.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

This is it. This is how I go—on one of the walks I adore so much.

Before his dirty hands can grasp me, he falls to the ground with a loudthumpand catches my foot underneath his dead weight, trapping me. Chest heaving, I struggle to contain my panic as I peek up at Handsome, now holding a brick in his hand—a brick he just whacked the large guy across the head with.

He flings the brick to the ground as he winces, his hand coming up to clutch his side and drawing my attention to the massive gash along his rib cage. Blood soaks through his white shirt underneath his jacket—if the shirt can even be classified as white anymore. It’s quickly turning a deep scarlet.

“You’re bleeding,” I rasp, my hands shaky as they hover aimlessly next to me while my brain struggles to catch up.

His eyes flash down to my hands before flickering up to my face, studying me with an expression I can’t quite pinpoint.

“So are you.”

His voice is deep, rumbling through his chest in an unfortunately distracting way. In fact, I’m almost sure I feel it reverberating through the ground, throughme.

I glance down at my palms, gasping faintly at the blood oozing from a fresh cut before lifting my head quickly to avoidlooking at the crimson liquid any longer. My stomach never handles the sight of blood very well, especially when it comes to my own. The nausea always forms as soon as the heat creeps up the back of my neck, and then, the tunnel vision takes over.That’sthe last thing I need right now.

Rubbing my hands on my ripped stockings, I swallow thickly before yanking my sore foot from beneath the unconscious guy and scrambling to get as far away as possible before I stand.

“You’re bleeding a lot.” I lick my dry lips, brushing my hair behind my ears as panic surges again. “I should call an ambulance.”

“No.” He grimaces as he touches his ribs, stumbling to lean against the bricks as his eyebrows furrow. “No ambulances. No hospitals.”

“Oh,” I groan anxiously as I whip my head around, looking down the dark alley for anyone who can help. “Oh no. You’re not dying on my watch. This isn’t happening. I’m calling an ambulance.”

Maybe.

If I can get my shaky fingers under control long enough to operate my phone as I pace back and forth nervously. My breath catches in my throat as blood smears across the screen, and my chest heaves deeper now as my airway tightens.

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