Chapter 30
Nina's POV
I stumbled back into my room like the floor was tilting under me. My lips still burned where Dante's mouth had been hot, possessive, tasting of my own blood and his wine.
My chest heaved, lungs tight, like I'd run a mile instead of just ten steps down the hall. The laptop felt heavier in my arms now, not armor anymore but something alive, something that might bite.
I kicked the door shut behind me. The lock clicked, too loud in the quiet. I didn't bother with the light. Moonlight sliced through the curtains in thin silver bars across the bed. I dropped onto the mattress, knees drawn up, and flipped the laptop open.
The screen glowed blue-white, harsh against the dark. I held my breath.
Password prompt.
I typed the default they always use for these things—admin123—half expecting it to lock me out forever.
It didn't.
The desktop loaded. Clean. Empty except for a browser icon and one folder labeled "School." No other apps. No downloads. No trash. Just enough rope to hang myself with.
My finger hovered over the Wi-Fi icon.
Connected.
Full bars.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"No way," I whispered.
I clicked the browser. Google opened instantly. No captive portal. No redirect. Just the world, wide and waiting.
I laughed—short, shaky, disbelieving. Then I typed the URL for my university portal so fast my fingers blurred.
Login.
Student ID. Password. The one I hadn't changed since freshman year because who changes passwords when life is normal?
It loaded.
Pending assignments. Overdue quizzes. Midterm notifications in red. A whole semester's worth of red flags screaming at me.
I stared.
Then I started crying again—but different this time. Happy tears. Relieved tears. The kind that burn clean.
"Finally," I breathed, pressing both hands to my mouth. "Finally something to keep me busy."
I scrolled. Biochemistry lab reports. Anatomy practicals. Pharmacology case studies. My old life, pixelated and perfect, staring back at me like it had never left.
I didn't even care that Isabela—the evil witch with her fake smiles and orange-juice ambushes—had been the one to hand me this lifeline. Right now, I could forgive her anything. This wasn't charity. This was oxygen.
I bounced once on the bed. Then again. Harder. The mattress springs squeaked under me. I laughed out loud—real, wild laughter—and threw myself backward, arms spread, laptop balanced on my stomach.
"First taste of freedom," I said to the ceiling, grinning so wide it pulled at the split in my lip. Blood beaded fresh, but I didn't care. "My first real test. I'm going to crush it."
I rolled onto my stomach, propped the laptop in front of me, and clicked into the live class schedule. One was happening right now—Advanced Pathophysiology. Late-night session for the international students. Perfect.
I clicked Join.
The video feed popped up. My camera light blinked green.
I froze.
I hadn't checked the camera. Hadn't fixed my hair. My tank top was still sticky with dried orange juice, my lip swollen and crusted with blood, my eyes puffy from crying.
But it was too late.
The chat exploded.
Then a voice—familiar, sharp, beloved—cracked through the speakers.
"Nina? So you're alive?"
Elena.
My best friend since orientation week. The girl who'd dragged me to every terrible frat party, who'd stayed up with me through every all-nighter, who'd once held my hair back while I puked after too many tequila shots and told me I was still pretty.
Her face filled half the screen now—same curly hair, same gold hoop earrings, same freckles across her nose. But her expression…
She looked like she'd seen a ghost and hated it.
I sat up fast. Smiled huge. Too huge. The kind of smile that hurts your cheeks.
"Yes! Yes, Elena!" My voice cracked. "I'm here. I'm okay. I—"
I wanted to scream it. I need your help. I'm trapped. They have guns. They have my dad. Call someone. Please.
But Dante's words echoed in my skull.
Every keystroke. Every second.
They were watching.
So I played it cool. Forced my smile softer. Tucked a strand of messy hair behind my ear like this was normal.
"Hey," I said, softer. "I missed you. Missed class. Missed everything."
Elena didn't smile back.
Because Josh was there too.
Josh the same Josh who'd cornered me in the basement bathroom at my mother's wake.
The same Josh who'd pinned me against the sink, breath reeking of cheap vodka, whispering that grief made girls "easy."
The same Josh I'd kneed in the groin hard enough to make him puke before I ran out crying. The same Josh who'd spread rumors afterward that I'd "asked for it."
He was kissing Elena.
Not a peck. Not a sweet goodbye.
He had her face cradled in both hands, mouth devouring hers like he was trying to crawl inside her skin. Her fingers twisted in his shirt. Their bodies pressed so close the camera angle caught every slide of tongue, every hitch of breath. Someone in the back row wolf-whistled low. A few giggles rippled through the open mics.
My stomach dropped through the floor.
I stared. Couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe.
They broke apart for air. Elena's lips were swollen, shiny. Josh grinned against her mouth, said something I couldn't hear. She laughed again—bright, happy, the laugh she used to save for me during late-night study sessions when we'd sneak vending-machine snacks and pretend we were going to save the world one patient at a time.
Now that laugh belonged to him.
My vision blurred. Hot tears spilled over before I could stop them. I wiped them away with the heel of my hand, furious at myself for crying over this. Over them.
But it wasn't just betrayal.
It was erasure.
They'd replaced me. Not just in her life—in everyone's story. The villain. The monster. The girl who'd abandoned her father to live some fantasy while he suffered.
And they were happy.
I sat there in the dark room, knees drawn to my chest, laptop balanced on them like a bomb about to detonate.
My bare feet were cold against the sheets. The orange-juice stain on my tank top had dried stiff and sticky. My lip stung every time I breathed through my mouth.
Minutes passed. Dr. Patel kept lecturing. No one noticed the silent "Guest" in the participant list.
Then Elena leaned her head on Josh's shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. Casual. Possessive.
Something inside me snapped.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Quiet.
I reached forward. Unmuted my mic. Turned on my camera.
The green light blinked on.
My face appeared in the corner of my own screen—pale, bruised lip crusted with blood, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, hair a tangled wreck. I looked like I'd crawled out of a grave.
I cleared my throat.
Just once. Soft. Deliberate.
The sound cut through the lecture like a knife.
Dr. Patel faltered mid-sentence. Heads turned. Video tiles lit up as cameras flicked on.
Then the chat exploded.
"Is that—?"
"No fucking way."
"Ghost alert."
"Or the freak?"
Whispers became voices. Voices became shouts.
"What's she doing here again?"
"Hope she's not thinking of completing school to practice medicine after what she put her poor father through."
Someone laughed—mean, sharp.
Elena's head jerked up. Her eyes locked on her screen. On me.
Josh's arm tightened around her shoulders. His smirk died slow.
The room went quiet except for Dr. Patel's confused "Class? Is everything—?"
I didn't wait.
I leaned closer to the camera so that I won't them see every bruise, every tear track, every inch of damage.
"I'm happy to see you all soon," I said. My voice came out steady. Too steady. "Both pigs and snakes."
I looked straight at Elena. Then at Josh.
Elena's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
She looked… afraid.
"You're the witch we should be scared of not after everything you said about me, Josh and what you did to your father and beloved late bother. It's all over the news and you're a freaking monster !" she whisper screamed. Her voice cracked on the last word.
The screen froze on her face wide eyes, parted lips, the beginning of tears.
I didn't blink.
I didn't cry.
I just stared back with one thought in my head "What the fuck is going on in the news and what happened to my best friend? The only person I was looking up to to be my ally especially since her father is a well respected Judge in the states.