All Chapters of Malicious Prince: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Luke The red numbers on the digital clock glow in the dark. 2:43 AM. I stare at them until the shapes blur. Sleep is gone. As usual. The dorm is quiet in that heavy way buildings get at night, pipes humming somewhere in the walls. I sit up slowly, rubbing a hand over my face. For a moment, I just sit there, elbows on my knees, breathing through the last fragments of whatever that was. My chest still feels tight, like the air in the room isn’t enough. It fades eventually. It always does. I swing my legs off the bed and cross the room, careful not to make noise even though I’m alone tonight. My backpack sits by the desk. I unzip the front pocket and dig around until my fingers close around a small crinkling wrapper. Peach candy. I unwrap it and toss the candy into my mouth. The sweetness hits my tongue immediately, sharp and artificial and familiar. I suck on it slowly, letting the flavour settle before biting down. The sugar helps, It always helps. I

Hi everyone, First of all, I want to sincerely apologize for the lack of updates over the past few days. I know many of you have been waiting for the next chapters, and I truly appreciate your patience and continued support. It honestly means so much to me that people are following the story and looking forward to what happens next. The reason I’ve been a little quiet lately is because I’ve been completely caught up in preparing for my end-of-semester finals. As much as I love writing and continuing the story, exams have demanded most of my time and attention recently. Between studying, reviewing notes, and making sure I’m prepared for each test, I haven’t had the time or the mental energy to sit down and properly write the next chapters the way I would like to. Right now I’m still in the middle of my finals period, so for the next couple of days I unfortunately won’t be able to continue uploading new chapters. I didn’t want to disappear without saying anything, so I thought it woul

Luke Wolfe. Real name - Preston Dragna. The agent that was actually approved and sent to this case by the agency. "I was actually expecting you, you know," He says, letting go of me and walks back towards a table with a few bottles and pours a drink. "Why?" He goes silent and takes a sip. "It's obvious I can't stop you....Jacobs couldn't, so how could I,hm?" He's admitting defeat? That I could seriously beat him? Bullshit. "What do you want?" I askHe ignores that. "Who's your target?" He asks "Ricci’s" I utter. He'd find out for himself later anyway. He chuckles, shaking his head. "Straight to the top, I see," Why’s he laughing? "What? weren't they the target?"“Yes,” he says slowly. “and no”"The hell is that supposed to mean?" “You really came in blind.” He says amused I don’t respond.Don’t give him that satisfaction.Wolfe exhales lightly, swirling the

LukeThe first quarter is barely five minutes in, and I already understand why the stadium fills up for this.It's not the sport.It's him.Lucien plays football the way he does everything else - like the outcome was already decided before anyone else stepped onto the field, and the game is just the formality of proving it.I watch him from the stands with the kind of focus I usually reserve for surveillance.Ravenwood's offence lines up. Lucien stands at quarterback, unhurried, scanning the defence across the line. The opposing team Helmshire, based on their navy and gold-has, stacked their defensive line heavy on the left. Two safeties sitting deep. A blitz package is barely disguised behind a standard formation.Lucien sees it.I know he sees it because he doesn't call a timeout. Doesn't signal the coach. He just shifts-one step right, a subtle hand gesture toward his wide receiver, two fingers tapped against his thigh for the running back.Three adjustments. No huddle. No waste

Luke The fourth quarter arrives, and Helmshire does something I didn't expect. They get quiet. As though it's the calm before the storm. Their offensive coordinator has been on his headset for the entire break between quarters. New plays coming in from somewhere above his pay grade. Their quarterback stands slightly apart from the huddle, helmet on, head down, running through something private and focused. I watch him and revise my earlier assessment. There he is-the real one underneath the rattled one. Whoever got in his ear at the break told him to stop looking at Zian and he's actually listened. But that's not what changes the game. What changes the game arrives through the stadium tunnel at seven minutes into the fourth quarter and doesn't hurry about it. Two of them. I notice them before the crowd does because I'm not