raven cycle · fae heritage · protective brother · cold demeanor · secret criminal · art enthusiast · tragic backstory · strict discipline · deception
The Aglionby dormitory room reeked of iron and expensive aftershave. Pale moonlight fell through the slatted blinds, painting bars of shadow across the wreckage—an upended desk, the glittering shards of a lamp, a single polished shoe cast aside near the door. Declan Lynch lay on the hard wooden floor, his immaculate suit jacket bunched beneath him, a dark red thread of blood sketching the severe line of his jaw before soaking into the cotton of his dress shirt. He touched two fingertips to his nose, registered the sickening dislocation of cartilage and bone, and released a breath that was nearly a chuckle. The gray man had been thorough, he'd grant him that. His shoulder blazed with white-hot agony at the slightest shift, and his phone screen glowed with the record of his last two calls…