Becker's POV...

What was I thinking, letting the guys talk me into hosting this party? By far the stupidest decision I've made in a while. And Greya—of all people, she chooses my party to show up. Secretly I wished she would but she's never been to one before, never around this kind of chaos, and yet here she is.

By the time I cleaned the blood off my hands and face and returned downstairs, the party was still in full swing. My mind keeps drifting back to her. Greya following me upstairs to the bathroom... I should have welcomed her help, not snapped. She calls me "B." That nickname—my mother used to call me that. Hearing her say it while seeing her reach out to help me, it almost broke the wall I've built around myself. Almost.

"Oh my god, Beck, are you okay? I heard about the fight!" Layla's hand shoots toward my face. I catch her wrist mid-motion. "Get away from me." My growl surprises even me. I don't have the patience for her tonight.

"What's your problem, Becker? We're supposed to hang out!" She flips her hair, exposing freckles and beady brown eyes. If looks could kill...

"Not tonight. Go bother someone else." I push through the crowd, my patience gone.

Red cups, spilled drinks, kids making a mess of my house. I make my way to the pool, relieved it's empty. Courtney sprawled on some guy's lap, but I don't give a damn. She got what she wanted now.

Greya's face keeps flashing in my mind. That dare—the idea of skinny-dipping with me—made me want to punch something. Not because of her, but because she would have been exposed to a sea of drunk idiots. My blood boils at the thought of anyone touching her or seeing her that way. If Courtney hadn't acted like a jealous fool, I might've lost it entirely.

Then the memory of Mason's hands on her...how scared she looked. I could've killed him. It's taken me a while to calm down.

Now, I'm sitting alone by the pool, finally cooling down, remembering her. She followed me upstairs to tend to my wounds. I can't stop thinking about it. She reached out, noticed my reaction, and still tried. She always notices. She's the only one besides Cohen and Declan who does. I've tried and failed to hide from her.

I rub my jaw, the sting of my busted lip still fresh, the memory of the fight raw. I think about how I flinched—not from her, but because of the situation—and I realize how much I hate the world sometimes, how much I fear losing control. Greya flinched at my reaction too but not out of fear, she flinched out of care. And I snapped. I shouldn't have. She saw the real me and I panicked. She didn't deserve for me to be harsh.

Morning comes, sunlight slicing through the windows. Cohen is yelling at everyone to get out. I shuffle through the mess, kitchen nearly clean, thankful I don't have a hangover. Alec stayed out of the chaos like I told him, smart kid.

I thank the lads for cleaning them decide to take Alec out for breakfast.

"I spoke to that girl... Greya," Alec smirks while we sit at the diner booth.

"When?" My interest peaks despite myself.

"She was looking for the bathroom last night... found my room instead. I get why you're always looking at her—she's hot, and those eyes..."

"Shut up," I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. I've spent five years trying to convince myself she's untouchable. Too perfect for someone like me. I've tried to remind myself: I'm damaged. She wouldn't want the reality behind the calm surface.

Alec doesn't push. He knows. I'm his older brother in this fight—not just for him, but for me too.

Reality hits hard later that night. My first thought, a nightmare, only it's real. Alcohol burns my throat as someone pours it over my face. I scramble up off the bed, wiping my eyes, and—BAM. A fist knocks me into the nightstand.

Jack. Drunk, ruthless, violent. Always a consequence to every choice I make, and tonight is no exception. I block his next punch, then feel his grip tighten around my neck. Alec bursts in, yelling. My instincts take over: I knee Jack in the gut, push Alec to safety, plead with him to lock himself in his room.

Jack makes contact again. Then darkness swallows me.

The last thing I remember: chaos, blood, adrenaline, fear... and Greya's face, even if just in memory.