Prologue

Rachel

Rachel had decided that Manhattan was beautiful, for such a fake, disgusting place. She had never been across the line before, but now that she was she wanted to run, sprint back to the Projects. Nothing was more nauseating than watching rich people fluff their hair and sip champagne.

She was out on the terrace, trying to get a few moments alone. Her red hair was straight as a board, sleek and glossy looking. Her makeup was perfection and her green orbs glowed in the night sky. She was beautiful, and she knew it, but she had never felt more out of place than right now, and confidence was half of beauty.

She wished Percy was here. He could wrap his arms around her, and everything would be okay. Every worry she had, every doubt, they would all wash away. She couldn't bear to think they only had one more week together.

She heard a voice, but she didn't pay much attention. It was a girl's, harsh and uninviting. Sad too though, like something terrible had happened to her.

"Are you Rachel Elizabeth Dare?" The girl asked.

Rachel whipped around, her ivory gown flowing in the wind. "Yes?" She asked, eyebrow arching.

"So your dad is Alexander Dare." Her black long hair somehow seemed to contrast with the black thread of her dress. It shifted around her, hugging every curve, and her golden arm bangles made an elegant clicking noise every time she moved. The girl would have looked like a supermodel – everybody over here does – except her eyes ruined the picture. They were an electric blue, which normally would have been pretty, except they were fixed on Rachel with the most intense gaze, she wanted to jump off the building.

"Maybe." Rachel shrugged slightly. Over the past month, she had learned to act like a Chosen when her family had slowly started integration. Her dad had showed "great promise" the government had said, after he had become a huge success in real estate, and they wanted to move them into the Luna Tower as soon as possible. They had attended party after party, with outfits that cost more than her family had owned in the past ten years. The Chosen were elusive, beautiful, mysterious. Or at least, that was there façade, so Rachel learned it. "Who are you?"

"Thalia Grace." She snarled. "You may have heard of me." The girl – Thalia – was dangerously close now. Rachel felt the cool glass press on her back.

"Umm, no." Rachel said.

"Really? You mean you have no idea how your mom slept with my dad, and ruined my life. Because I sure as hell know." Thalia snarled. Her eyes were wild and unfocused. Drugs. Rachel realized. Too late, she realized the position she was in. The glass wasn't tall, maybe only three feet. And Thalia was mad.

"It wasn't my fault!" Rachel said, desperate.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But somebody has to pay." Thalia shoved her, and Rachel's head flung over the side, red hair dangling in a tangled mess, whipping in the wind.

"Thalia. You're not thinking straight." Rachel pleaded, trying to reason.

"What do you know about me?" Thalia screamed, so loudly Rachel wasn't sure how nobody else heard. Thalia gave her another shove, and Rachel fell further.

She closed her eyes, and almost found herself willing Thalia to push her. Her skin felt like it was peeling off, her hair was in knots and Rachel found herself realizing she had nothing left to live for. Her home was in the Projects, and if she couldn't live there, then she might as well die here. It seemed like a fitting end. To die in the place she so desperately didn't want to be.

"You and your stupid low-life family ruined," Push. "my," Push. "life!" Thalia screamed and Rachel felt her feet give.

For two minutes, she had never felt more at peace with life. She spread her arms, floating down. The wind blew her shoes off, and they fell to the side. She took one last –

Thalia

Thalia had never meant to kill her. Never. She wasn't a killer, hell she couldn't imagine herself even hurting somebody. The drugs messed with her mind. She was on so many pills right now, she hadn't even noticed they were by the edge. When Rachel went over, Thalia was lucky the force didn't pull her too.

If she could call herself lucky. She killed someone. Oh, gods. She stumbled back to the party, unaware of the tears streaming down her cheeks, mascara smeared and lipstick smudged.

She clawed at her dress, trying desperately to be free of it. Her breaths were shallow, choked. People stared, but she didn't, she couldn't care. Everything was so wrong. Her life, her friends, her family it was all so fucking perfect and Thalia felt anything but perfect and she just couldn't deal with it any longer.

"Thalia?" Annabeth's voice called out. Of course, Little Miss Perfect had to be the one to find her. She loved Annabeth, she really did, but she was the epitome of the Chosen. Perfect face, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect attitude and she handled it all with such grace and poise that everybody kneeled at her feet. It was absolutely disgusting and amazing all at the same time. "Oh, Thalia, what's wrong? Shhh." Annabeth wrapped her in a hug, and guided her away from the crowds. Thalia clutched at Annabeth's skinny strap on her purple gown, clinging to her warm sweaty skin like it was her lifeline. e