Sera's POV
"You're thinking about burning the evidence."
I look up from my phone, where Luna's photo has been burned into my screen for the past six hours. Ezra stands in the doorway of the library, watching me with those calculating eyes that see too much.
"They have Luna," I say, my voice hollow. "They'll kill her if I don't—"
"If you burn the evidence, they win. Your mother's murderers go free. And they'll kill Luna anyway because dead hostages don't talk." Ezra moves closer, sitting across from me. "You know I'm right."
I want to argue, but I can't. He is right. The Five Families won't let Luna go even if I destroy everything. She's seen their faces. She knows too much.
"Then what do I do?" I whisper. "How do I save her?"
"You outsmart them." Ezra pulls out several books and sets them on the table between us. Psychology. Behavioral Analysis. The Art of Manipulation. "Psychology is your best weapon. Especially against people who think they're smarter than you."
"I'm not smarter than them. They're powerful crime families with decades of experience—"
"And massive egos," Ezra interrupts. "Which is their weakness. They think a seventeen-year-old girl can't possibly beat them. Use that."
I stare at the books. "I don't know how."
"Then I'll teach you." He opens the first book to a marked page. "Lesson one: People reveal everything through body language. Most communication isn't words—it's gestures, expressions, micro-movements they don't even know they're making."
He pulls up a video on his tablet. Security footage from the hospital today, showing Vincent Moretti threatening me.
"Watch his hands," Ezra instructs.
I watch. Vincent's right hand keeps moving toward his jacket pocket. Touching it. Checking it.
"He's protecting something," I realize. "Something in that pocket matters to him."
"Exactly. When police arrested him, they found his phone. But what they didn't find was the second phone in his car. The burner phone he uses to contact the other families." Ezra smiles coldly. "Because his hand told me exactly where to look when Phoenix hacked his car remotely."
"You read his body language and used it against him?"
"Always." Ezra pulls up another video. This one's older—from two years ago. It shows me in the cafeteria, and Victoria approaching with her friends.
My stomach turns watching it. I remember this day. Victoria "accidentally" spilled her entire lunch tray on me in front of everyone.
"Watch Victoria before she dumps the tray," Ezra says.
I watch carefully. Victoria's eyes flick to Dante's table twice. Checking if he's watching. Making sure her performance has an audience.
"She did it for his attention," I breathe.
"Everything she does is for his attention. Or for social approval. She's desperate to be seen as important." Ezra leans forward. "That's her weakness. Remove her audience, remove her power."
"How do you know all this?"
Ezra's face goes dark. "Because I've been doing it my whole life. Reading people. Finding their weak spots. Using their fears against them." He looks directly at me. "I used these tricks on you."
The air between us turns heavy.
"The rumors I spread weren't random," he continues quietly. "I studied you first. Learned what would hurt most. You wanted to be invisible, so I made you hypervisible in the worst ways. You wanted friends, so I made sure everyone saw you as a social disease. You wanted your father's love, so I—"
"Stop," I whisper. "I know what you did."
"I'm sorry." His voice cracks slightly. "I'm so sorry, Sera. I convinced myself it was just strategy, just games. But I was destroying a real person. Someone who didn't deserve any of it."
I should hate him. Part of me does. But another part sees the guilt eating him alive.
"Why are you helping me now?" I ask.
"Because I want to use these skills for something good for once. To protect someone instead of destroy them." His gray eyes meet mine. "And because you deserve better than what we did to you."
The moment stretches between us, intense and complicated.
"Teach me everything," I say finally.
Relief floods his face. "Okay. But you need to understand—psychological manipulation is dangerous. Once you start using it, it's hard to stop. You start seeing everyone as puzzles to solve, weaknesses to exploit."
"Is that what you see when you look at me?" I challenge. "Weaknesses?"
"No." His answer is immediate and raw. "When I look at you, I see someone who survived everything I threw at them and is still standing. That's not weakness. That's terrifying strength."
For the next three hours, Ezra teaches me his darkest skills.
He shows me how to plant doubt with carefully chosen words. How to make someone question their own memories. How to isolate targets by turning their friends against them subtly.
"Watch," he says, pulling up his phone. He sends a text to Victoria: "Did you see what Brittany posted about you? So messed up."
"You didn't link anything. There is no post," I realize.
"Exactly. But Victoria's already paranoid. She'll check Brittany's social media obsessively. Find something—anything—that could be interpreted as an insult. By tomorrow, she'll convince herself Brittany betrayed her." He pockets his phone. "I just destroyed a friendship without doing anything."
"That's horrible."
"Yes," he agrees. "But effective. And when the Five Families come for you, you need every effective weapon you have."
He's right. I hate it, but he's right.
"Now you try," Ezra says. "Read me. What am I feeling right now?"
I study him carefully. His posture is relaxed, but his hands grip the edge of the table. His eyes keep flicking to the door like he's worried someone will come in.
"You're scared," I say slowly. "Not of me. Of someone finding out you're helping me. Your father?"
Ezra's mask slips for just a second, and I know I'm right.
"Your father doesn't know you're teaching me this stuff," I continue. "He thinks you're still loyal to the families. But you're betraying them, and if he finds out—"
"He'll kill me," Ezra finishes quietly. "My father doesn't tolerate traitors. Not even his own son."
The weight of his risk hits me. All four Dark Angels are risking their lives to help me.
"Why?" I ask. "Why risk everything for someone you tortured?"
"Because—" He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His fingers are cold. "Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being a victim and became someone I actually care about. And that terrifies me more than my father ever could."
Our eyes lock. My heart beats faster. His thumb traces circles on my palm, and electricity shoots up my arm.
"Ezra—" I start.
His phone buzzes. He checks it and goes pale. "No."
"What?"
"Phoenix just intercepted a message between the families." He shows me the screen. "They moved up the timeline. We don't have forty-eight hours anymore."
"How long do we have?"
"Twelve hours. They're executing Luna at midnight unless you burn the evidence by then."
My blood runs cold. Midnight is in less than twelve hours.
"We need to find her," I say, standing up. "Now."
"Phoenix is trying to trace the messages, but the families are using encrypted networks. It could take days—"
"We don't have days!" I'm yelling now, and other students look over. I lower my voice. "They're going to kill her."
"Unless we give them what they want," Ezra says carefully.
"No. There has to be another way."
"There is." A new voice speaks from behind us.
I spin around. A boy I've never seen before stands in the shadows between the bookshelves. He's maybe nineteen, with dark skin and sharp eyes.
"Who are you?" Ezra demands, moving protectively in front of me.
"Ghost," the boy says, stepping into the light. "Marcus Chen. Phoenix's friend. The information broker."
I remember that name from the outline Luna and I read before everything went wrong. "How long have you been listening?"
"Long enough." Ghost pulls out a tablet. "Long enough to hear that the Five Families have your friend. And long enough to realize I can help you find her."
"Why would you help us?" I ask suspiciously.
"Because the Five Families destroyed my family five years ago. Framed my father for crimes he didn't commit. He died in prison." Ghost's eyes are hard. "I've been waiting for someone brave enough or stupid enough to actually fight back against them. You're both."
He sets his tablet on the table. "I've been tracking the families' communication networks for years. I know their patterns. And I think I know where they're holding Luna."
Hope flares in my chest. "Where?"
"The old Blackwell factory. It's been abandoned for decades, but it's owned by Ezra's family. They use it for... off-the-books activities."
Ezra's face goes white. "The factory. Where they—" He can't finish.
"Where they dispose of problems," Ghost finishes grimly. "Yeah."
"We have to tell Dante and the others," I say, grabbing my phone.
"No time," Ghost says. "I intercepted another message. They're moving Luna in two hours. If we don't get to the factory before then, they'll relocate her somewhere we'll never find."
"Two hours?" My mind races. "Can we even get there that fast?"
"I have a car and a plan," Ghost says. "But we need to leave now. Just us three. Too many people and they'll notice."
Ezra shakes his head. "It's a trap. It has to be."
"Maybe," Ghost agrees. "Or maybe it's your only shot at saving your friend. Your choice."
I look at Ezra. At Ghost. At my phone where I could call Dante and the others.
But Ghost is right. Two hours isn't enough time to coordinate with everyone. And if we wait, Luna dies.
"I'm going," I say.
"Sera, no—" Ezra starts.
"I'm going with or without you. But I'd rather go with you."
Ezra stares at me for a long moment. Then he curses under his breath. "Fine. But if this goes wrong—"
"It won't," Ghost says confidently. "I've been planning a move against the families for years. This is our chance."
We grab our things and head for Ghost's car. As we're leaving, I text Dante: "Following a lead on Luna. Back in a few hours. Don't worry."
It's a lie. I should tell him the truth. But there's no time.
Ghost drives fast, taking back roads away from campus. The factory is on the edge of the city in an industrial area that looks like something from a horror movie.
"How do you know Luna's really here?" I ask as abandoned buildings flash past.
"I don't," Ghost admits. "But my intel says this is where they take people they want to disappear permanently. If she's anywhere, she's here."
"Comforting," Ezra mutters.
We park two blocks away and approach on foot. The factory looms ahead, dark and menacing.
"There," Ghost whispers, pointing. "Two guards at the south entrance."
"Can we get past them?" I ask.
"Not without them seeing us." Ghost pulls out his phone. "But I can create a distraction. When I do, you two run for the side door. It should be unlocked."
"Should be?" Ezra hisses.
"Ninety percent sure," Ghost says. "Give or take."
This is insane. We're breaking into a crime family's secret location with no backup and no real plan.
But Luna is inside. I know it.
Ghost does something on his phone, and suddenly alarms start blaring from a building two streets over. The guards immediately run toward the sound.
"Now!" Ghost whispers.
We sprint across the open space. My heart pounds so hard I think it might explode. We reach the side door—Ghost tries the handle—
It opens.
"Told you," he whispers.
Inside, the factory is even creepier. Abandoned equipment. Rust everywhere. And the smell of something chemical and wrong.
"Luna!" I call out softly.
"Sera?" A weak voice answers from somewhere deeper in the building.
"LUNA!" I start running toward her voice, but Ezra grabs my arm.
"Wait. It could be a trap."
"I don't care!" I pull free and run into the darkness.
I find her in a back room, tied to a chair. Her face is bruised, and there's dried blood on her shirt.
"Luna!" I drop to my knees, working at her bonds. "Oh god, are you okay?"
"Sera, no—" Luna's eyes are wide with terror. "It's a trap! They knew you'd come! They—"
The lights slam on, blinding us.
When my vision clears, I see why Luna was so scared.
We're surrounded. At least ten men in suits, all armed.
And standing in front of them, smiling coldly, is Ezra's father—Charles Blackwell.
"Hello, Seraphina," he says. "Thank you for making this so easy."
I spin around to run, but the door is blocked. Ghost stands there, and his apologetic expression makes my blood turn to ice.
"I'm sorry," Ghost says quietly. "But they have my sister. They said if I didn't deliver you, they'd kill her."
He was working for them the whole time.
I look at Ezra, desperate for help. But Ezra's staring at his father with an expression I've never seen before.
"Father," he says carefully. "What are you doing?"
"What I should have done weeks ago," Charles says. "Eliminating the problem. Your little girlfriend here has caused enough trouble."
"She's not—" Ezra starts.
"Don't lie to me, boy." Charles pulls out a gun. "I know you've been helping her. Betraying your own family. Choosing her over us."
He points the gun at me.
"So here's your choice, Ezra," Charles continues. "Prove your loyalty and kill her yourself. Or I kill you both right now."
He tosses a second gun to Ezra.
Ezra catches it automatically. Looks down at the weapon in his hands. Then at me.
"Father, please—" he tries.
"No more talking!" Charles roars. "She dies tonight. Either by your hand or mine. But you decide right now—are you a Blackwell, or are you a traitor?"
The gun in Ezra's hand shakes.
He raises it slowly.
Points it at me.
Our eyes meet, and I see the agony in his gray eyes. The impossible choice his father is forcing on him.
"Ezra," I whisper. "It's okay."
"It's not okay," he breathes.
"Do it!" Charles commands. "Now!"
Ezra's finger moves to the trigger.
Luna screams. Ghost looks away.
And I close my eyes, waiting for the bullet that will end everything.