Evie doesn't remember a life before she was on the streets, a life before thieving to live and killing to stay alive. When a royal family she didn't know anything about goes missing, Evie finds herself thrown into the royal court of the protectors, and they demand her help. Help in exchange for a chance at freedom and the name that's haunted her, forgotten. A name she can’t even read, a name she doesn’t understand.

Never stop running. And no matter what, never let the world know who you really are. I’ve spent my whole life hiding. Training. Preparing. Hoping that no one will discover my secrets. What I can do. Who I am. And I’ve gotten so good at it, sometimes even I forget. Until them. The wolf pack with a ruthless reputation and a penchant for revenge. The protective fighter. The charming Brit. The shy hacker. The silent mercenary. The cruel assassin. They see more than anyone ever has before. And even with demons of their own, they give me sanctuary.

Monsters exist. The only problem is… I'm the only one that can see them. I always thought I would outgrow it. That one day, I would magically wake up, and the nightmares that haunt my life would suddenly be gone. Unfortunately, that hasn't been my luck. Avoidance is key. Don't look at them. Pretend they aren't lurking in the shadows, and never make eye contact. But what happens when the events of my life spiral out of control, plunging me into a new world full of magic, death, and chaos?

Fate wouldn’t tie me to these men, would it? Sent to the ruthless academy for magicals after years hiding from the authorities, I'm behind, poor and, with my pet pig in tow, struggling to fit in. No surprises I'm picked out for ridicule by the other students - as well as the teachers. And four men in particular seem determined to make my life here hell.

My whole life has been characterized by fighting; fighting my family and fighting for my life. Trust me—the first one is completely voluntary, and a lot of fun. The second? Not so much. To say my family dynamic is weird is the understatement of the century. I held my first sword when I was only five years old, and I learned how to dispose of a body before I turned ten. I may have a penchant for pink and sparkles…but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to kick major ass as well.