Sera's POV
I wake up choking.
Hands hold my head to the side as I vomit black liquid onto expensive carpet. My throat burns like fire. My whole body shakes so hard my teeth rattle.
"That's it. Get it out." Dante's voice is right next to my ear. His hand rubs circles on my back—gentle, careful, nothing like the cruel boy I know.
I try to push him away, but my arms won't work right. Everything feels wrong. My heart races too fast. My skin is too hot and too cold at the same time. The room spins even though I'm lying down.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" A man's voice asks. Not one of the boys.
I blink hard, trying to focus. An older man with gray hair and kind eyes leans over me. He's holding up three fingers, but they keep splitting into six.
"T-three?" I croak.
"Good. That's good." The doctor—he must be a doctor—checks my pulse. "Her heart rate is too high. We need to get more fluids in her. Dante, hold her steady."
"I've got her." Dante's arms wrap around me from behind, keeping me upright. "You're okay, Sera. Just breathe."
"Let me go," I whisper, but it comes out weak. "Why won't you just let me go?"
"Not happening." His grip tightens. "Never again."
The doctor puts a needle in my arm. I don't even have the energy to flinch. Cold liquid flows into my veins, and gradually, the room stops spinning quite so fast.
"She'll be okay?" Phoenix asks from somewhere behind me. His voice sounds strange—rough, like he's been crying.
"She purged most of the pills before they fully absorbed. The activated charcoal and IV fluids should do the rest." The doctor packs up his bag. "But she needs to be monitored for the next twelve hours. Any changes in breathing, consciousness, or heart rate—call me immediately."
"We're not leaving her alone," Killian says. His voice is hard, final.
The doctor gives Dante a long look. "What happened here tonight—"
"Stays between us," Dante finishes coldly. "As always, Dr. Chen. Your discretion is appreciated."
Money exchanges hands. The doctor leaves. And I'm alone with them.
The Dark Angels. My tormentors. The boys who've made my life hell for three years.
And they just saved my life.
"Why?" The word rips out of me. "Why did you stop me? Why do you even care?"
Silence. Heavy and suffocating.
Finally, Ezra speaks from the corner of the room. "Because we're the reason you were up there."
I laugh, but it turns into a cough. "Oh, so now you feel guilty? After three years? After you destroyed everything I am?"
"Yes." Killian steps into view. His green eyes are bloodshot, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. "After three years of being absolute monsters. After we broke you piece by piece. Yeah, Sera. Now we feel fucking guilty."
"Too late." I try to stand, but my legs give out. Dante catches me before I hit the floor. "You don't get to feel bad now. You don't get to pretend you're good people because you stopped me at the last second."
"We're not good people." Phoenix appears next to me, and I barely recognize him. His usual wild smile is gone. He looks... broken. "We know exactly what we are."
"Then why?" I'm crying now, angry tears I can't stop. "Why save me? Why not just let me die and finally be free of the pathetic girl you love to torture?"
"Because—" Dante's voice cracks. Actually cracks. "Because Phoenix came to my room two hours ago and said you were going to do something. He's been watching you for weeks, and he saw the signs."
I turn to Phoenix, confused. "You were watching me?"
"I'm always watching you." He runs his hands through his red hair, making it stick up wild. "I know that sounds creepy, but I... I noticed things. You stopped fighting back. Stopped flinching. You gave away your camera to the art teacher—the one thing you loved. You've been saying goodbye without words."
My chest tightens. He noticed. When no one else in the world paid attention to me except to hurt me, Phoenix noticed I was dying inside.
"When you didn't come to dinner tonight, I knew," Phoenix continues. His hands are shaking. "I just knew. So I got the others and we searched everywhere. The roof was my last guess."
"We were almost too late," Killian says quietly. "Another thirty seconds and you would've jumped before we got there."
The weight of that hits me. Thirty seconds. I was thirty seconds from being dead right now.
"I don't understand." I look at each of them. "You've spent three years making me wish I was dead. Why does it matter if I actually do it?"
"Because there's a difference between tormenting someone and killing them," Ezra says. He's still in the corner, like he's afraid to come closer. "We crossed every line, but we never wanted you dead. We just wanted..."
"Wanted what?" I demand. "To feel powerful? To have someone to kick when your own lives got hard?"
"Yes." Dante's honesty stuns me. "That's exactly what we wanted. Someone weaker to control because we can't control anything else in our fucked-up lives."
Killian sits down heavily on the couch. "My father beat the shit out of me every day until I was sixteen and got big enough to fight back. But I couldn't hit him. So I hit everyone else. Including you."
"My mother abandoned me at boarding school when I was six," Ezra adds, his voice hollow. "She said I was too difficult to love. So I learned to destroy people emotionally before they could destroy me. I'm really fucking good at it, as you know."
Phoenix laughs bitterly. "My parents medicated me until I couldn't feel anything. Said I was too much, too wild, too broken. So I found feeling in chaos. In drugs. In watching other people break instead of me."
They're all looking at me now, and I see it clearly—the cracks in their masks. The damage underneath.
"And you?" I turn to Dante. "What's your excuse?"
His dark eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see past the cold control. "My mother was killed when I was eight because my father's enemies wanted to hurt him. They took her, tortured her, sent pieces of her back to us." His voice is dead, empty. "My father told me emotions are weaknesses that get people killed. So I learned to feel nothing. Control everything. Hurt first before anyone can hurt me."
"Jesus," I whisper.
"We're monsters, Sera," Dante says. "We know that. We turned you into our punching bag because you were the only one who couldn't fight back. Your father sold you to us—literally. He owed my family money and offered you up as payment. Said we could do whatever we wanted as long as we didn't kill you."
The room tilts again, but not from the pills this time. "What?"
"Your father made a deal," Killian confirms. "Dante's family would forgive his debt if we... entertained ourselves with his daughter. Made sure you stayed broken so you'd never tell anyone what was happening at home."
My father. My own father sold me to them.
"Why are you telling me this?" My voice is barely a whisper. "Why now?"
"Because you deserve the truth." Ezra finally steps closer. "And because we need you to understand something. We're not asking for forgiveness. We don't deserve it. But we're done hurting you."
"In fact—" Phoenix's eyes light with something dangerous. "We're going to help you hurt everyone who hurt you. Including us, if that's what you want."
"What?" I stare at him. "What are you talking about?"
Dante crouches in front of me, and his eyes are burning with intensity. "You wanted to die to escape the pain. We get that. But here's another option." He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, he takes my hand. "Let us teach you how to make them all pay. Your father. Victoria. Trevor. Everyone who made your life hell."
"We'll give you every weapon we have," Killian adds. "Money, power, connections, skills. Everything."
"Why?" I can't stop asking. "Why would you do this?"
"Because we created this," Ezra says simply. "We broke you. So we're going to help you rebuild yourself into something so strong, so powerful, that no one will ever be able to hurt you again."
Phoenix grins, and it's his crazy smile but different somehow—focused, determined. "We're going to turn you into a queen, angel. And we'll be your army."
I should say no. I should run as far from these boys as possible. They're dangerous, damaged, and they've already proven they can destroy me.
But something dark and hungry wakes up in my chest. Something that wants revenge. That wants to watch everyone who hurt me suffer.
"And what do you get out of this?" I ask suspiciously.
Dante's thumb brushes over my knuckles. "Maybe redemption. Maybe just less guilt. Or maybe—" His eyes lock with mine. "Maybe we just want to see what happens when the girl we broke becomes unbreakable."
The air feels electric. Dangerous. Like standing on the edge of a cliff again, but this time someone's offering to give me wings instead of letting me fall.
"Okay," I hear myself say. "Teach me."
All four of them smile—real smiles, not the cruel masks I'm used to. And it's terrifying how beautiful they are when they're not trying to hurt me.
"First rule," Dante says, helping me to my feet. "You stay here tonight. All of us will take turns watching you to make sure you're okay."
"I have a curfew—"
"Your father thinks you're at a study group," Ezra interrupts. "I already sent him a text from your phone. You're covered."
Of course he did. Ezra can manipulate anything.
Killian brings me water and makes me drink it all. Phoenix sets up blankets on the huge bed in Dante's suite. They move around me like I'm something precious instead of something to break.
It's so confusing my head hurts.
Dante's suite is huge—bigger than my entire house. There's a bedroom, bathroom, living area, even a kitchen. Rich people really do live differently.
"Get some sleep," Dante orders gently. "Tomorrow, your new life starts."
I climb into the bed, expecting them to leave. But Killian sits in a chair by the window. Ezra settles on the couch with his laptop. Phoenix curls up on the floor next to the bed. And Dante stands by the door, arms crossed, eyes watchful.
"You're all staying?" I ask.
"We said we weren't leaving you alone," Killian reminds me. "We meant it."
"But why—"
"Because if you wake up and we're not here, you might try again," Phoenix says quietly from the floor. "And we can't let that happen."
"We won't let that happen," Dante corrects firmly.
I should be scared. I should hate them. And I do—I hate them so much it burns.
But lying here, with four dangerous boys watching over me like guards instead of tormentors, I feel something I haven't felt in three years.
Safe.
And that's the most terrifying thing of all.
"Sera?" Ezra's voice cuts through the darkness after I close my eyes.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry. We're all sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything, but—"
"It doesn't," I agree. "But it's a start."
Silence falls, and eventually, exhaustion pulls me under.
My last thought before sleep takes me: What the hell did I just agree to?