The group of rowdy men behind her suddenly froze.

Emily Blair lifted her head. Standing before her, grinning and impossibly out of

place, was Amelia Lane—she was supposed to be in the hospital. Amelia waved her phone in front of Emily's face.

"Looking for my brother, Emily? Too bad he doesn't have time for you."

"He's busy watching fireworks with Isabella."

Amelia turned her phone so Emily could see the video playing on the screen.

In the video, Andrew Lane had his arm wrapped around Isabella Austin's bare, slender shoulders. The two of them stood close, gazing up as a riot of color exploded across the night sky.

At that same moment, Emily looked up and saw that the sky above her was also alight with fireworks, bursting and fading, painting the darkness with fleeting beauty.

As the last sparks drifted down, her phone buzzed. She heard the sound of a voice message.

"Andrew, thank you. I'm really happy tonight."

Andrew's reply came, softer than Emily had ever heard him speak. "I'm glad you are."

"Andrew, can I kiss you?"

There was a sudden burst of background noise, but Andrew's answer was perfectly clear: "Yes."

Emily's breath came in ragged gasps. Her chest felt as though it had been sliced open.

"So," she asked, voice trembling, "Andrew knows about all this?"

Amelia arched an eyebrow. "Why else do you think no one answered your call?” "My brother just wants you to face reality."

Face reality.

Emily closed her eyes, a bitter, mocking smile pulling at her lips.

So that was it. Even after everything, she'd been foolish enough to cling to some fantasy about Andrew Lane.

Disgusting.

Amelia stepped back, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You boys-take good care of her. Mr. Lane's orders. Do a good job, and you'll get your reward."

The men leered, moving toward her, hands rubbing together, one of them grabbing her legs.

It happened in a blur—a teenage boy in the same school uniform as Emily, wielding

a police-grade baton, burst onto the scene. His breathing was ragged and his movements wild, but he swung the baton with determined fury.

"Get lost! All of you, back off-don't touch her!"

The electric crackle of the baton split the air, and, to her surprise, the men actually backed away.

Emily scrambled to her feet. The boy grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a run. She had no idea how long they ran-after a while, the rush of wind in her ears faded, replaced only by their heavy breathing.

Finally, the boy stopped, glancing nervously back down the street.

After a moment, he tossed the baton aside and let out a shaky laugh. "We're good, we're good. Gotta say, those security batons the school uses really do the trick."

Emily hugged herself tightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you."

He had a gentle face and wasn't especially tall, but his smile was open and bright. "Don't mention it. Just doing the right thing. But hey, you should be more careful. Don't take that street again—the only people who go down there are troublemakers."

Emily tried to nod, but a wave of dizziness washed over her.

He steadied her, suddenly anxious. "Hey, are you okay?"

She opened her mouth, struggling to get the words out. "Can you take me to a hotel?"

The boy's cheeks flushed scarlet. “A—a hotel? Why do you need a hotel?”

Emily shook her head, pressing her eyes shut. "I'm just so tired. Please, can you help me?"

She knew she should probably go to the hospital, but the thought of running into those men again made her skin crawl.

She recognized this neighborhood—there was a small hotel less than two blocks away.

The boy hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, I'll take you. Just... don't try anything weird, okay?"

Emily managed a faint nod.

Inside the room, he stood awkwardly by the door, not sure what to do with himself.

Emily, trembling, made her way into the bathroom to tend to her wounds. The boy hovered nervously outside, finally reaching in to steady her arm as she nearly lost her balance.