God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1) by Rina Kent

There’s a screenshot from what looks to be a group chat with an interesting caption.

Surrounded by idiots.

Gareth: Group study?

Nikolai: I have a better idea. Group sex.

Gareth: Gross.

Jeremy: Try again in a hundred years.

Killian: I’m blocking you.

I can almost hear Killian’s monotone voice as he says that, and my stomach flips, but I exit the screenshot and continue scrolling through Nikolai’s account.

In the last picture he posted, Nikolai is grabbing a struggling Gareth and a bored-looking Killian in chokeholds.

Stuck with these motherfuckers for life. Not that I’m complaining…okay, maybe a little.

I tap on the tag section, my finger trembling as I click on killian.carson.

My heart nearly leaps out of my throat when I find the Follow Back button.

Just when the hell did he follow me?

Though he did mention that he saw my Inception-inspired painting and my stories earlier.

I run back to my notifications and find he liked a lot of my pictures. I scroll down and down, and holy hell, the crazy bastard liked all five hundred pictures I posted on Instagram.

Every single one.

An hour ago.

Isn’t that around the time I came back to the flat? Does that mean he didn’t continue his plan or am I just looking for excuses?

I return to his profile.

If I expected him to have about the same following as Nikolai, I’m terribly mistaken—it’s way more. Like two hundred thousand more.

Of course the prick is popular. No surprise there.

His profile’s description is: Med student. Lover of fine things.

Killian’s account is less chaotic than Nikolai’s. In fact, it’s aesthetically pleasing with warm colors and a lot of positive energy. Parties. Med students’ gatherings. Friends. Family. People.

Lots and lots of people and faces and smiles and life.

It’s the perfect façade for his rotten insides.

He’s either smiling or laughing or smirking in pictures. Some are taken in exotic places, others are on filthy-rich properties. Not only does his family have money, but he likes to show it, too.

The more I scroll, the surer I am that Killian is the male version of the social butterfly that’s taken over Ava and Annika, but without their sincerity.

Killian is flat out mimicking the youth’s obsession with social media and he’s doing it way better than they do since charisma comes naturally to him.

But I know that each of his smiles is undeniably fake.

As I go through his profile, I can tell why people would be so attracted to him. There are a lot of beautiful men around, but there are only a handful with his level of easygoing attractiveness. He doesn’t have to try to attract people’s attention like a magnet.

They flock to him like a moth to a flame without knowing they’ll burn if they get too close.

Or if he sets his sights on them.

I click on a family picture in which an elegantly dressed woman, whom I assume is his mother, sits on a high-back baroque chair. Her expression is of a badass queen as she holds the hand of a man that rests on her shoulder. Her husband—considering his resemblance to both Gareth and Killian—stands right behind her wearing a smirk. Both Gareth’s and Killian’s faces, however, are full of horror.

I scroll sideways for another picture in which she’s laughing, her husband’s expression is solemn, and Gareth appears relieved. Killian is throwing his head back in laughter.

Unlike the other picture, this laugh doesn’t seem completely fake. It’s not genuine either—just right in the middle.

My attention slides to the caption.

The difference between ‘Maybe I’ll give you boys a little sister, after all’ and ‘Just kidding, look at your faces.’

I notice a pattern where Killian posts more family pictures with his mother and his aunt, his mum’s identical twin, who’s also Nikolai’s mother, than with his father or Gareth.

In fact, the only time he posts a picture of his father is when his mother is around.

And there’s only one time where he’s posted a picture of Gareth, who’s out for a run in the rain.

My big bro’s leg day might turn into swim day in this weather. Get it together, England.

However, there are tons of pictures of his mother. In the last one, he has a selfie of her trying to feed him a biscuit while he scrunches his face.

I told my favorite woman that I stopped being six more than a decade ago, and she said “Not on my watch” as she stuffed me with a cookie. Thoughts on convincing your mom you’ve grown up?

Then he has another picture where he’s standing between his mother and aunt. His mum pinches his jaw while laughing and his aunt grins.

Guess who’s the queens’ escort for the night? Be mad @nikolai_sokolov.

My eyes blur with all the similar images. The normal, hyper, absolutely mesmerizing documentation of his life.

Oh, he’s good.

He’s so good at blending in that even I am starting to wonder if it’s all real.

I go back up to the last picture he posted about five hours ago of the five neon purge masks.

Night of mischief.

I scroll up and I freeze as the profile refreshes. During my snooping, he posted another picture.

It’s black and white, showing his middle and ring finger inside a mouth.

My mouth.