Sera's POV
The pill tastes like freedom.
I stand on the edge of Blackthorn Elite Academy's roof, three stories above the ground, and swallow my first step toward peace. The bitter taste spreads across my tongue as I shake another pill into my palm. Then another.
This is it. No more pain. No more shame. No more being invisible.
The wind whips my hair across my face, and I don't even bother pushing it back. What's the point? In a few minutes, nothing will matter anymore.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and my stomach twists. Victoria's video is still trending on the school's social media. "Sera's Greatest Hits" the title mocks. Three years of my worst moments—all set to cruel, laughing music.
There I am, getting shoved into a locker. Getting water dumped on my head during lunch. Tripping down the stairs because someone tied my shoelaces together. The camera zooms in on my face every time—showing my tears, my red cheeks, my broken expression.
Three million views in three days.
I close my eyes, but I can still see it. I can still hear Victoria's voice from this afternoon: "Poor Sera. Even your own father doesn't want you."
She's right. When I came home with bruises last week, my father didn't ask who hurt me. He asked what I did to deserve it.
"You're worthless, Seraphina," he'd said, not even looking up from his drink. "Your mother died because she couldn't stand raising such a pathetic daughter."
That's not true. Mom didn't leave because of me. She died when I was ten, and I know—I know—it wasn't natural. But nobody listens to me. Nobody ever listens.
I shake out three more pills. My hands are steadier than I expected.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I whisper to the dark sky. "I tried to be strong like you wanted. I really tried."
But three years is too long. Three years of being called names, pushed around, laughed at. Three years of eating lunch alone in bathroom stalls because nobody will sit with me. Three years of teachers looking the other way when someone trips me or "accidentally" spills chemicals on my lab work.
Three years of them.
The Dark Angels. That's what everyone calls them—Dante, Killian, Ezra, and Phoenix. The four most powerful boys at Blackthorn Elite. Rich, gorgeous, and cruel as hell.
Dante Moretti started it all. He's the leader, the one with the cold dark eyes and the smile that promises pain. He cornered me during freshman orientation and whispered: "Your father owes my family. You're going to pay his debt."
I didn't understand then. I do now.
Every humiliation has Dante's fingerprints on it. Every rumor, every prank, every moment of torture—he orchestrates it all like a sick puppet master.
Killian Savage is the muscle. Tall, tattooed, terrifyingly strong. He's the one who physically hurts me—shoving me in hallways, "accidentally" elbowing me in gym class, gripping my arm so tight it leaves bruises. He never says much, just watches me with angry green eyes like I've done something wrong just by existing.
Ezra Blackwell is the mind games. Beautiful and cruel, he spreads rumors that destroy me socially. He convinced everyone I cheated on tests (I didn't). He told people I tried to seduce a teacher (I would never). He turned my name into a joke, a warning, a curse. Nobody wants to be associated with me because Ezra made me toxic.
And Phoenix Vale? He's chaos in human form. Wild red hair, crazy smile, and absolutely no limits. He's the one who drugs drinks at parties and makes sure I drink them. He's the one who hacks my phone and posts embarrassing things. He's the one who films half the videos that end up online.
Together, they've made my life a living hell.
And my father? He lets them. Because apparently, he owes Dante's family money, and offering up his daughter for entertainment is easier than paying his debts.
I swallow another pill. Then another.
The bottle is half empty now. My head starts to feel floaty, disconnected from my body. It's almost nice.
Just a few more. Then it's over. Then I'm free.
I think about the letter I left in my room. Short and simple: "I'm sorry. I just couldn't do it anymore."
Will anyone even care? Will anyone cry at my funeral?
Probably not Victoria. She'll probably throw a party. Probably not Trevor—he's the one who tried to force himself on me at that party last year, and when I fought back, he made it his mission to destroy me even more.
Maybe Luna, the new girl, would care. She tried to talk to me yesterday. First person in two years to smile at me like I'm human. But I avoided her. What's the point of making friends now?
The pills are making everything blurry. I step closer to the edge. Three stories isn't that far, but combined with the drugs...
It'll be enough.
"I just want it to stop," I whisper.
My phone buzzes again. Another notification. More people commenting on that horrible video. More people laughing at my pain.
I throw the phone as hard as I can. It sails over the edge and disappears into the darkness.
Gone. Just like I'll be.
I shake the last pills into my hand. Five of them. I raise them to my mouth—
The roof door slams open behind me.
"Step away from the edge. Now."
My whole body freezes. I know that voice. Deep, commanding, cold as ice.
Dante Moretti.
I don't turn around. Can't turn around. My heart is racing, but my body feels slow and heavy from the pills.
"What do you want?" My voice sounds wrong. Slurred. "Come to push me yourself? Make it more fun?"
"Sera." A different voice now. Rough, urgent. Killian. "Don't fucking move."
"Jesus Christ, she's already taken something." That's Ezra, and he actually sounds scared. "Look at the bottle on the ground."
"How many?" Phoenix's voice is higher than usual, panicked. "Sera, how many did you take?"
I laugh, but it comes out broken. "Why do you care? This is what you wanted, right? Poor pathetic Sera finally gives up. Congratulations. You win."
"We need to get her down from there." Dante again, but closer now. How is he so close? I didn't hear him move.
"Don't touch me!" I spin around too fast, and the world tilts. I'm standing on the edge of the roof, and suddenly I can see how far down it is. My foot slips on the concrete ledge.
I'm falling backward into nothing—
Strong hands grab my wrist, yanking me forward so violently we both crash onto the roof. Dante's body breaks my fall. We hit the ground hard, and the air rushes out of my lungs.
"No!" I scream, fighting against his grip. "Let me go! Just let me GO!"
But Dante's arms are locked around me like steel bands. "Not a fucking chance."
Killian drops to his knees beside us, his hands gripping my shoulders. "Sera, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."
"I WANT to hurt myself! I want it to STOP!" I'm sobbing now, thrashing, but the pills make me weak. Or maybe I was always weak. "Please. Please just let me die. I can't do this anymore. I can't—"
Ezra crouches down, and when I see his face, I stop breathing.
He's crying.
Ezra Blackwell, the boy who destroyed my reputation for fun, has tears streaming down his perfect face.
"We fucked up," he whispers. "Oh God, Sera, we fucked up so badly."
Phoenix appears in my blurry vision, and he's crying too. "How many pills? Sera, we need to know how many."
"Enough," I choke out. "I took enough."
Dante's grip tightens around me. His voice drops to something raw and desperate. "How long ago?"
"Five minutes. Maybe ten. I don't know."
"We need to get her to medical. Now." Killian's already pulling out his phone. "And we can't let anyone know about this. If this gets out—"
"Fuck what gets out!" Phoenix snaps. "She's dying!"
"I've got her." Dante shifts, lifting me into his arms as he stands. I'm too weak to fight anymore. "Phoenix, grab the pill bottle. Ezra, clear the path to my car. Killian, call my private doctor. Tell him to meet us at my suite."
"Your suite?" I mumble. "Why..."
"Because you're not going to the school nurse, and you're sure as hell not going to a hospital where records get filed." Dante looks down at me, and his dark eyes are burning with something I don't recognize. "You're not dying tonight, Seraphina Ashford. I won't allow it."
"You don't get to decide," I whisper, but my eyes are so heavy.
"Watch me."
The last thing I see before darkness takes me is all four of them—The Dark Angels, my tormentors, my demons—surrounding me with expressions that look almost like...
Fear.
Like they're terrified of losing me.
But that can't be right.
Can it?