Chapter 1
Kayla’s POV
Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep.
The shrill buzz of my phone cut through the morning silence like a blade. I groaned, buried deeper under my duvet, and briefly debated letting the world burn without me. But curiosity won — it always did. With a dramatic sigh, I stuck one arm out into the cold and snatched my phone from the nightstand.
Amy Biyatch: Morning sunshine ☀️ I’ll be there in ten. Don’t forget to wear something cute. Ba bye ;*
Me: What do you mean it’s so early Amy??
Amy Biyatch: Um, it’s actually late for a school morning!!
Shit.
My heart stuttered as it hit me — today was the first day of senior year. Somehow I’d completely forgotten.
Me: See you soon ;* ;*
I threw back the covers and launched out of bed like a girl possessed. My feet slapped the floor as I raced to my walk-in closet, yanked open the doors, and grabbed the first outfit that didn’t scream “trying too hard”: my worn-out light blue skinny jeans and my new Falling in Reverse band tee — the one I’d been saving for a non-cringe occasion. This counted.
A quick pit stop at my vanity and I was slapping on some foundation, winging my eyeliner, and running a brush through my long jet-black hair. I left it loose, still wild from sleep but just messy enough to pass as intentional.
I shoved my feet into my Docs while hopping toward the door, nearly falling over twice before I managed to grab my school bag, wallet, and keys.
“Mum, I’m leaving!” I shouted, though I doubted she’d hear me. She was probably dead asleep upstairs — another long night shift at the hospital. My dad, if he was even awake, would be holed up in his study, buried in case files and caffeine.
My mum was a respected trauma surgeon, and my dad was Evermore’s sheriff. A power couple, at least on paper. At home? Ghosts in different corners of the same house.
Amy’s horn blared outside, sharp and impatient as ever.
I tore out the front door and skidded down the steps, flinging myself into the passenger seat of her sleek black Mustang.
“Hey girlie,” she grinned.
“Hi, chica,” I shot back, breathless.
We both laughed — the easy kind, the kind that came from years of friendship and a million shared secrets. Amy was chaos in eyeliner and platform boots. I loved her for it.
“Now,” she said, shifting into gear, “are you ready for the big adventure they call senior year?”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Hey princess, can’t wait til we see each other again. You’ve been avoiding me for too long ;) See you at school.
The blood in my veins went cold.
“What the hell?” I whispered, rereading the message as a strange, crawling sensation slithered up my spine. My breath hitched, eyes locked on the screen. I didn’t recognize the number — but something about the tone, the way they said “princess,” felt... familiar. Unsettling.
Amy glanced over. “You okay?”
I nodded, too quickly. “Yeah. Just… weird text.”
I turned my face toward the window, watching the trees blur past in streaks of green and gold. My reflection stared back at me — tired eyes, faint shadows under them, lips pressed thin with a quiet kind of dread.
Then it clicked.
I knew that tone. That arrogance. That ghost from the past I’d never really buried.
And if he was back...
Senior year wasn’t just going to be a ride.
It was going to be a goddamn war.
