God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods #4) by Rina Kent

My parents are included in the group of powerful people. We’re Russian mafia royalty and they happen to be leaders in the New York Bratva.

The other college is Royal Elite University—or REU. British, loaded with old money and pretentious aristocracy.

Our college has two clubs: the Heathens, with which our loyalty lies since my brother and cousins are members; and the Serpents, who are second on my shit list.

First on that list, however, is the Elites. The secret club and the holy grail of REU.

While the Heathens are full of mafia heirs and American royalty, the Elites are…dangerously different.

They appear elegant and suave, but there’s a nefarious undertone lurking beneath the surface.

Maya and I are infiltrating their mansion and party. It’s impossible to get an invitation to these close-circle gatherings unless you’re part of the club or their family and friends.

Lucky for me, I managed to snag two invitations that were meant for someone who’s part of the family.

When Maya and I arrive at the entrance, a large man stops us. Masks are mandatory tonight, and he’s wearing a black carnival one with golden ornaments.

From my research, I gathered that mask nights are important nights. They’re not only a members' meeting, but they’re also when they celebrate wins and announce plans for the future.

It's the main reason why I waited such a long time to execute my plan. There needed to be this level of significance for the mission to be satisfying.

I reach into my bag and show him the black invitation card with ‘Elites VIP’ written in gold. After Maya does the same, he takes and scans them with a special gadget.

Geez. No wonder it’s impossible to get into these things. They even scan invitations to make sure there are no forgeries.

Once the light goes green, he nods more to himself than to us and motions behind him at his colleague, who’s in a similar mask.

“You’ll leave all your personal belongings here. No phones or cameras are allowed inside.” His gruff voice with a barely understandable British accent fills the air. “If we find out you snuck any communication devices inside, you’ll be thrown out.”

Maya releases an exasperated sound as we ditch our bags. “You better protect it with your life. Actually, since this is a special edition Hermes and is, therefore, worth more than your life, lose it and I’ll use your skin as my new bag. Capisce?”

The man shows no reaction to her dramatics, and I grab her arm and then basically push her inside a dimly lit hallway.

“You just made him take note of us,” I sign discreetly. “What happened to our plans about blending in, idiot?”

“Excuse you. My bag is worth more than this mission.”

“Are you telling me a bag is worth more than getting revenge for our brother?”

“Well, since he can get that himself—which he should’ve by now, but I’m not sure why he hasn’t—I think…yes?”

“Maya!”

“What? I had to pull strings to get that bag.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought it on a night like this?”

“It’s my lucky bag. Of course I’m bringing it to your suicidal mission.”

“I have everything planned. It’s not suicidal.”

“It will be when Niko finds out.”

I wince at the thought of our older brother, Nikolai, catching a whiff of this. Pissed off is going to be the milder reaction.

Maya's eyes twinkle behind the mask with a mischievous grin. “He’ll skin us alive.”

I lift my chin. “Don’t care. I’ll deal with him once I’m done with our revenge.”

Our conversation comes to a slow halt as we exit the hallway and find ourselves in a main hall.

Huge chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, illuminating a glittery interior, marble flooring, and ornate pillars.

All the attendees wear masks similar to ours and are dressed up in fitted tuxedos and elegant party gowns. I definitely look the least sophisticated of the bunch, while Maya blends right in.

“I told you so,” she whispers in my ear in reference to her earlier suggestion that I wear a showier dress.

I elbow her side, but she only laughs in mock reaction.

If she weren’t my sister, I would’ve kicked her in the face a long time ago.

We each grab a drink from a passing waiter, but I don’t take a sip. One, I’d have to lift my mask, and I’d rather not reveal anything about my identity. Two, I’m such a lightweight that even a beer can get me tipsy. So I only pretend to drink while keeping my attention on the people mingling about.

Some of them are dancing to unknown classical music like they’re a bunch of middle-aged couples. Others are talking and laughing at what I’m sure are boring topics.

The subject of my revenge, who should be somewhere in the middle of the charade, isn’t here.

“Do you see him?” Maya signs, as is our habit whenever we don’t want someone to eavesdrop on us.

I shake my head.

My foot taps on the floor in a manic rhythm. This is bad.

That asshole is the star of the show, so unless he shows his ugly self, our plan is practically null and void.

All of a sudden, the lights dim. My eyes adjust to the darkness, but I can only see shadows and silhouettes of other attendees.

My spine jerks upright and my manic tapping comes to a halt, mainly because the panic is too great to be contained by mere tapping.