Nothing to Lose

Chapter 1: Nothing to Lose

The rain never stopped in Santa Cruz that fall. It came down in sheets, like the sky was trying to wash the whole town into the Pacific. I didn’t mind. Rain hid things—bruises, tears, the way my hands shook when the hunger got bad. I’d been sleeping in the shell of an old cannery warehouse on the edge of the wharf for three weeks now. The roof leaked in interesting patterns, and the concrete floor stayed cold enough to keep the nightmares at bay most nights.

My name is Nico Black. Twenty-one. No family. No future. Just scars that mapped out every place life had kicked me and a high school diploma that meant exactly nothing in a world still limping after the Swarm War.

I found the letter two days ago, slipped under the warped metal door like it belonged there. Black envelope. Crimson wax seal shaped like thorns wrapped around a drop of blood. BludHeaven Academy. The vampire school. The one that had started letting humans in after the Integration Accords turned everything upside down.

I almost laughed when I read it. Almost burned it. Instead I sat on an overturned crate and stared at the words until they blurred.

*We have reviewed your application. Your candor is... refreshing. You have been accepted for the Fall term commencing immediately. Tuition, room, and board provided in full under the Human Integration Scholarship Program.*

They wanted me. Me. The foster-system reject with the skinny arms, the dark circles, the permanent flinch. The kid who wrote “I got nothing to lose” for why he wanted to attend a school run by centuries-old predators.

The second question had been worse: *What skills or talents can you offer BludHeaven Academy?*

I’d written: *I’ll do anything you want. Even if it kills me.*

I hadn’t expected honesty to be a currency they valued.

Then the car came out of nowhere on a slick crosswalk. One second I was jaywalking toward the last convenience store still open, thinking about stealing a candy bar because pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford anymore. The next—headlights, screech, impact. Pain so bright it tasted like metal.

I woke up in the county hospital, ribs taped, leg in a cast, IV dripping something that made the world fuzzy at the edges. The nurse said I was lucky. I didn’t feel lucky. I felt like I’d been given an eviction notice from life itself.

Two weeks. That’s how long I’d been “out.” Orientation had started without me. I figured that was it—expelled before I even stepped foot on campus. Back to the streets. Back to nothing.

Until the door opened.

No knock. No clipboard-carrying doctor. Just a man in a dripping black trench coat filling the doorway like he owned the building. Tall. Too tall. Skin pale as marble, eyes black and endless. Shadow Guard. Had to be. The elite vampires who patrolled BludHeaven’s cliffs and made sure no one—human or otherwise—crossed lines they weren’t supposed to cross.

He looked at me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or break.

“You’re late,” he said. Voice like distant thunder wrapped in velvet.

I tried to sit up. Everything screamed. “Yeah. Hit and run. Not my best life choice.”

A faint smile. Fang tips caught the fluorescent light. “Most humans would be blacklisted for missing the first two weeks. The queens decided otherwise.”

He tossed something onto the bed. Another black envelope, thicker this time. The seal was already broken.

“They want you there. Tonight.”

I stared at it. My acceptance letter was already in the trash can by the bed, crumpled and coffee-stained. This felt different. Heavier. Like a summons instead of an invitation.

“Why?” The word scraped out of my throat.

The guard tilted his head. “Your application amused them. In a good way. Or a dangerous one. Hard to tell with the queens.” He stepped closer. The room got colder. “Celeste Valentina Morau signed off personally. Don’t make her regret it.”

Celeste. The name landed like a stone in still water. One of the last purebloods who hadn’t left with the Thirteen Families. Hero of the Swarm War. The face on every newsreel when the supernaturals finally went public. Beautiful. Terrifying. And apparently interested in foster trash from Little Rock via Santa Cruz.

The guard didn’t wait for more questions. He unhooked the IV with practiced ease, scooped me up—cast, hospital gown, and all—like I was a bag of groceries. No wheelchair. No paperwork. Just the storm outside and the low growl of a blacked-out SUV idling at the emergency entrance.

Rain lashed the windows as we climbed the coast road. The university gates appeared through the downpour—wrought iron twisted into roses and bats, glowing faintly crimson against the black cliffs. Beyond them, BludHeaven rose like a cathedral someone had carved out of midnight: spires, arched windows, stone walls that looked old enough to remember when vampires still ruled the night unchallenged.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Welcome to BludHeaven, Nico Black. Try not to die on the first night. The queens hate when their new toys break too soon.”

My heart slammed against cracked ribs.

I had nothing left to lose.

But as the gates swung open without a sound, I realized something worse.

I might have everything to gain.

And that scared me more than the vampires ever could.

I looked out the passenger seat of the SUV up at the rain-swept gothic gates of BludHeaven Academy glowing crimson against the storm.

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