Ryena point of view
There are things in prison no one teaches you. Like how to find hope in hell. How to tell when someone's more dangerous than they look. And how friendships can bloom between fists, blood, and silence.
After the riot, solitary, and our calculated takedown of Nyra, things simmered. The prison hadn't forgotten what happened. Neither had the guards. But for once, Hiliana and I weren't just surviving—we were building something.
That was when we found Abby.
She wasn't new. Just invisible. A ghost.
It happened in the library—one of the few places where chaos softened. Hiliana and I were browsing the legal section, pretending to care about parole law while mostly planning how to get extra rations without sparking another war.
I spotted her first. Curled in a corner, surrounded by tattered manuals and stolen computer science books that hadn't been updated since the Stone Age. Her glasses were cracked. Her uniform swallowed her thin frame. Her face? Expressionless. Like someone who stopped expecting rescue a long time ago.
"I've seen her before," I muttered. "Always alone."
Hiliana squinted. "That's Ghost Girl."
"Ghost Girl?"
"She's been here longer than most. Framed for hacking into some rich bastard's data vault. Word is, her classmate set her up after she exposed some dirty secrets. No family. No lawyer. Just vanished into the system."
That was enough for me.
We approached slowly. Abby didn't look up until Hiliana's shadow blocked her light. Her eyes flicked to us, unblinking.
"You're in my light," she said.
I bit back a grin. "You're in my world now, Ghost Girl."
Hiliana smirked. "We're not here to mess with you. Just curious."
Abby raised an eyebrow. "Curiousity gets you stabbed around here."
"Yeah, well," I said, dropping beside her, "so does trust. But we manage."
Abby didn't respond. But she didn't tell us to leave either.
A week later, she was part of our crew. We saved her from those female bitches, who tried to harm her.
Turned out, Abby was brilliant in the kind of way that scared people. She could recite encryption code like poetry. Taught Hiliana how to read server vulnerabilities like bedtime stories. She even taught me to pick locks using hairpins and probability formulas I still didn't fully understand.
"You're teaching her math?" Hiliana teased one night.
"I'm teaching her survival," Abby replied. "You use brute force. She needs precision."
"Wow," I said, placing a hand to my chest. "And here I thought I was your favorite."
Hiliana rolled her eyes. "I'm the favorite."
Abby didn't answer, but the way her lips quirked up as she looked at Hiliana told me all I needed to know.
It started small. Hiliana bringing Abby extra bread rolls. Abby fixing Hiliana's busted radio with smuggled wire and chewed gum. Long glances across the mess hall. Muted laughter in the dark.
"Just kiss her already," I said one night as Hiliana cleaned her busted knuckles.
"She's a genius, not a miracle worker," Hiliana muttered, flushing.
"You're scared," I teased.
"I'm cautious."
"You're hopeless." I said mockingly
She flipped me off. I just chuckled and wink at Hiliana.
But I knew that look in her eyes. It was the first time I'd seen it since we met—like she believed in something again. Maybe not in the system, or herself, but in Abby.
And it wasn't one-sided.
Abby was different around Hiliana. Softer. Still guarded, still sharp-tongued, but she looked at Hiliana like she was a puzzle worth solving. Like she'd finally found someone who didn't treat her like a tool or a freak.
And me? I was the glue. The chaos. The heart. The bridge between their storm and their silence.
We made an odd trio. A former rich girl turned prisoner. A street-smart rebel with fists for words. And a ghost-genius framed and forgotten.
We didn't fit in. But we fit together.
And that pissed people off.
The other inmates didn't like our rise. Whispers started. Some called us the Trinity. Others said we were plotting to take over. Which… wasn't completely wrong.
One afternoon, a crew from Block C tried to jump us in the yard. Said we were getting too bold. That Abby was messing with their comms.
She was. But that wasn't the point.
"You three think you run this place?" one snarled.
"No," Hiliana said, cracking her knuckles. "We know we do."
It wasn't a long fight. Abby blinded one with a powder bomb she'd made from laundry detergent and chalk. I knocked another down with a mop handle. Hiliana? She handled the rest with elbows and fury.
Later, nursing our bruises, Abby looked at Hiliana. "That was reckless."
"You're welcome."
"Next time, let me hack their bunk assignment. Put them all in solitary without touching them."
Hiliana blinked. Then grinned. "I'm listening."
And I? I just laughed.
"God, you're both insane," I said, wiping blood from my lip. "And I love it."
That night, we shared stale cookies Abby smuggled from the kitchen. Sat in the dark corner of the library, passing crumbs and plans like queens in exile.
"You think we'll ever get out of here?" Abby asked quietly.
I looked at her. Then at Hiliana.
"I don't know," I answered. "But if I have to stay, I'm glad it's with you two."
Abby blinked. "That's oddly sentimental."
Hiliana rolled her eyes. "She gets like this under moonlight."
"You know you love it," I said.
Hiliana didn't deny it.
And Abby? She leaned her head on Hiliana's shoulder like there's something going on between those two.
I let out a small sigh and smile. We weren't just surviving anymore.
We were fighting.
Building.
Loving.
And in this hellhole, where hope was currency and chaos was law—we were becoming something unstoppable.
Ghost. Rebel. Heart.
The Trinity was rising.
And prison?
Prison was about to learn why queens don't bow.