Chapter 3

Raven

The nightmare of falling wouldn't stop.

Wind screaming past my ears. The Satan's Heart burning against my chest like a brand. The ground rushing up to meet me at terminal velocity. Over and over, the same endless loop of—

Cold.

Something cold touched my arm.

My eyes snapped open. Training kicked in before conscious thought—I twisted, grabbed, pulled. My hand found a throat. Soft. Young. Male.

"What the—" The voice cracked with adolescent surprise.

My other hand swept the surface beside me, searching for a weapon. Anything. My fingers closed around something cylindrical. Smooth. Too light. I glanced down.

A pencil?

I blinked. Looked again. Another pencil. An eraser. A notebook with doodles in the margin. A desk.

A fucking desk.

The classroom came into focus like someone had adjusted a camera lens. Rows of desks. Fluorescent lights. A whiteboard covered in equations. Students staring at me with expressions ranging from shock to gleeful anticipation.

Fuck. Where am I?

But there was no time to think. The boy in my grip struggled, and muscle memory took over. I snatched the sharpest pencil within reach—a mechanical one, tip freshly sharpened—and pressed it against his throat.

"Who are you?" My voice came out cold. Lethal. "Where is this?"

"Raven!" The boy's eyes went wide with panic. "It's me! Leo! Leo Davenport! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Raven? Who the fuck is—

"I was just trying to wake you up!" His words tumbled out in a rush. "The teacher's coming! You were sleeping! It's class time!"

Teacher? Class?

But I'm supposed to be... The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. The plane. The jump. The pendant burning into my skin. The fire spreading through my veins until everything went white.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Am I dead? Did I—

The classroom erupted in laughter.

"Oh my God!" A girl in the front row clutched her sides. "I didn't know Raven Martinez had this kind of crazy in her!"

"Right?" Another voice chimed in from somewhere behind me. "After what she did, you'd think she'd try to keep a low profile. But no—still making a spectacle of herself!"

"I think she actually lost it this time," someone else added with barely contained glee.

Their words barely registered. My attention had shifted to something far more alarming—this body.

It wasn't mine.

The movements felt sluggish. Unfamiliar. My reflexes were there, but filtered through limbs that didn't respond with the precision I'd spent sixteen years perfecting. And the skin—I looked down at my hands still gripping Leo's collar. The skin was softer. Younger. The calluses from years of weapons training were gone.

What the fuck happened to me?

I released Leo with one hand and grabbed for the nearest reflective surface—a compact mirror from the girl beside me. She yelped in protest, but I'd already flipped it open.

The face staring back at me made my blood run cold.

Dark circles under tired eyes. A constellation of freckles across a too-pale nose. Hair that looked like it hadn't seen a brush in days. Features that were... ordinary. Painfully, unremarkably ordinary.

Fuck! What happened to my face?

My face had been my weapon as much as any blade. Sweet. Disarming. The kind of face that made airport security wave me through without a second glance. The kind of face that got me close to targets who never saw death coming.

This face? This looked like it had given up on life three bad decisions ago.

Is this why everyone's mocking her? Because she's too... plain?

"Raven, please!" Leo's voice cracked with genuine desperation. "Stop messing around! Mrs. Johnson is going to be here any second, and if she finds you like this—we're not even friends, okay? But you don't have many people left who don't completely hate you, so maybe let go of my throat before you lose another one!"

Mrs. Johnson?

I hesitated. The fear in Leo's eyes seemed real. Sincere, even. Against every instinct screaming that this was a trap, I loosened my grip—

The classroom door slammed open.

The woman who strutted in was absolutely not dressed like any teacher I'd ever imagined. Sky-high heels that clicked against the linoleum like gunshots. A skirt that was professionally inappropriate by at least three inches. Hair and makeup that suggested she'd just walked off a magazine shoot.

She carried a metal ruler like it was a weapon.

My threat assessment kicked in automatically. Hostile body language. Aggressive posture. The ruler held at an angle that suggested she knew how to use it.

"Mrs. Johnson!" Multiple voices called out in unison. "Raven's gone crazy!"

The woman's eyes locked onto me with the kind of focused malice usually reserved for blood feuds. She stalked forward, heels clicking, ruler pointed at my face like an accusation.

"Raven Martinez." Her voice dripped with disgust. "You are absolutely beyond saving."

Every combat instinct I'd ever developed screamed danger.

I released Leo completely and took a step back. "Stay away from me."

She kept coming.

"I said stay away." My voice dropped to the tone I'd used on targets. The one that usually made people reconsider their life choices.