Chapter four

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

Amara didn't even realize the words had left her mouth until Ethan’s smug, picture-perfect smile froze mid air right in front of her locker.

“Whoa,” Ethan said, raising his hands in fake surrender, letting out a sharp, condescending laugh. “Did somebody shit in your cereal this morning, Amara? What’s with the nasty attitude?”

Amara stood paralyzed for a second, her hands gripping her backpack straps so tightly the fabric groaned under her knuckles. The noise of lockers slamming and teenagers screaming in the crowded hallway faded into a dull, echoing hum.

All she could see was his face. The same jawline, the same clear skin, the same arrogant blue eyes that had watched her bleed out onto wet pavement in a dark alleyway ten years in the future.

“I’m talking to you, Amara,” Ethan continued, leaning his forearm against the metal locker right above her head, invading her personal space like he owned it. He looked her up and down, a subtle flick of disgust crossing his features before he masked it with a smirk. “Look at you. Did you steal your dad’s flannel or did you roll out of bed and decide to wear a circus tent today? I’m just saying, if you’re gonna meet me after school, maybe try putting a little effort in, babe.”

In her first life, Amara would have blushed, giggled nervously, and immediately apologized for her clothes. She would have spent the rest of the day hiding in the bathroom, hating her body for not fitting into his idea of perfection.

Now, a dark, venomous heat spread through her chest.

“Was that supposed to be fucking funny, Ethan?” Amara asked, her voice dropping into an icy, deadpan register.

Ethan’s smirk wavered. “What?”

“I asked if that joke was supposed to make me laugh,” Amara said, taking a step forward until she was inches from his face. She didn't shrink back. She didn't look down. “Because if you think talking shit about my body makes you look charming, you’re even stupider than you look.”

Ethan’s face flushed red, caught completely off guard. A few students passing by turned their heads, whispering and snickering at the sudden confrontation.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is your problem today?” Ethan hissed, his voice dropping as he looked around nervously. “I was making a joke! You usually laugh at that shit! Don't turn into a crazy bitch over nothing.”

“I’m not your fucking punchline anymore,” Amara said coldly, her brown eyes locking onto his with a fierce, unwavering intensity that made Ethan instinctively take a half-step back. “And don't ever speak to my face like that again.”

She slammed her locker door shut with a deafening BANG that echoed down the hall, turning on her heel to walk away.

“Hey! Amara!” Ethan yelled after her, his tone laced with sudden panic and bruised pride. “Where the hell are you going? You’re supposed to meet me behind the bleachers after class!”

Amara didn't even bother looking back. “Keep fucking waiting.”

***********

By lunch period, the cafeteria was a wall of chaotic noise trays clattering, metal chairs scraping against linoleum, and hundreds of teenagers shouting over each other.

Amara sat at an isolated table near the back corner, her lunch tray sitting completely untouched. She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the room like a hawk.

Ten years, she thought, her fingers tapping against her arm. Ten goddamn years I spent idolizing that scumbag.

Suddenly, the double doors of the cafeteria swung open. Ethan walked in, surrounded by a couple of his varsity friends. He was laughing loudly, trying hard to act unbothered, but his eyes were frantically scanning the tables. The moment his gaze brushed past Amara’s corner, he scowled and quickly looked away, sitting down with his group near the center of the room.

Amara let out a bitter, silent scoff. Predictable coward.

She was about to look away when her eyes caught something else something that sent a cold shiver straight down her spine.

Sitting two tables over from Ethan was Chloe Vance.

At seventeen, Chloe was already the untouchable golden girl of the school flawless blonde hair, designer clothes, and a squad of cheerleaders trailing behind her. In her first life, Amara hadn't even thought Chloe knew Ethan existed until five years after high school, when Ethan suddenly introduced her as his 'business partner.'

But right now, Amara watched closely.

Chloe wasn't listening to the girl gossiping beside her. She was staring directly at Ethan. Her fingers twirled a strand of her hair, and her eyes held a soft, hungry intensity that Amara recognized all too well.

Then, as if sensing Amara’s gaze, Chloe shifted her eyes across the crowded room.

Their eyes met.

For three long, agonizing seconds, neither of them looked away.

In her past life, Chloe had stood over Amara’s dying, bleeding body in a plush white mink coat, laughing softly while Ethan dragged her into the freezing rain.

Amara’s expression didn't soften. She didn't blink. She held Chloe’s gaze with a cold, terrifying stillness, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated venom.

Chloe’s sweet, practiced smile slowly faltered. The color drained slightly from her lips, and a subtle flicker of confusion and discomfort crossed her face. Unsettled by the sheer intensity of Amara’s stare, Chloe quickly turned back to her friends, her laughter sounding forced and shaky.

Amara felt her pulse thumping wildly in her throat.

You fucking snakes, Amara realized, her jaw clenching until her teeth hurt. It didn't start in five years. You two were already eye fucking each other right now, behind everyone's back.

In her first life, Ethan had used Amara to do his homework, pass his exams, and boost his ego while secretly pining after girls like Chloe. And Chloe had played along, waiting for the right moment to step in once Ethan was successful enough to be useful to her.

Amara took a deep, steadying breath, leaning back in her chair as a cold, lethal smile touched the corners of her lips.

“You want him so bad, Chloe?” Amara whispered softly to herself, her eyes tracking both of them across the room. “Take him. But I’m going to make sure that by the time I’m done with him, there won't be a single piece left of him worth taking.”