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Dedicated to -Disturb_, my fearless collaboritive partner. Thanks for helping me with this book.

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"Did you hear the news?" my best friend, Chloe Morgan, asked excitedly, twirling a lock of her dark red hair around her finger and leaning into me conspiratorially, her hazel eyes alight with excitement. "Apparently the Voiceless Stranger struck again."

            I didn't look up from where I was randomly doodling things in the cover of my chemistry book. It was the first day back from summer break, and my mind was still moving sluggishly. While people around me were chatting about what they'd been doing over the holiday and how they'd enjoyed their summer break, I was too busy trying to remember how to hold a pen properly. Three months can really do something to a person's fine motor skills.

            "Violet? Are you even listening to me?"

            I looked up blearily from my book, and pushed some of the dark, wavy hair back from my face. "Hmm?"

            She sighed and flicked her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes with a small smile. "I said, the Voiceless Stranger struck again."

            "Okay," I replied slowly, unsure why she was bringing this fact to my attention.

            I'd never believed in superheroes or the like before. I was the kind of girl that needed to see something to believe it truly existed. But three months ago, just before the summer break, the 'Voiceless Stranger', as our town had named it, had suddenly popped up. Nobody knew where he had come from, or who he was, but everyone called him the town's super-villain. It had been scary at first, but I'd grown used to the idea now, and I rarely even thought about it.

            "Aren't you gonna say something? Don't you care?" Chloe asked, staring at me with wide eyes. Over the three-month break we'd been apart, I'd forgotten how overwhelming she was. Her parents, who were rich and snobby, had taken her and her older brother, Beau, to the Mediterranean for the summer, and when they had come back two weeks before school started, she had been grounded because apparently she had tried to sneak out to go on a secret date with some Mediterranean guy. But that was Chloe. Rambunctious, rebellious, and loud. But I'd somehow forgotten over the short break just how loud she was.

            "What do you want me to say, Chloe?" I asked.

            "Something; anything! God, some freak with superpowers is ruling our town, and you act like this in no way affects you. Just say something, Vi!"

            "I don't think this guy is who everybody says he is," I replied, shrugging.

            Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened comically in disbelief. "What?"

            Once again I shrugged. "I don't think he's a villain. I mean, he's actually helping people."

            "He's almost killed, like, five guys!" she argued, seeming outraged that I would think differently.

            "But remember what happened after they received medical treatment?" I replied, giving her a meaningful look.

            She already knew what I was talking about, and her pink lips formed a thin line as she pressed them together in distaste. She remembered, all right.

            "That's right," I said, feeling triumphant in my small victory. "They've all been convicted of crimes ranging from murder to robbery to theft, breaking and entering and arson. They're no saints themselves."

            "That's doesn't make it right," she replied matter-of-factly.

            "Maybe not," I said. "But he's taking bad guys off the streets. As long as he doesn't harm my family, my friends, or someone I know or care about, then I have no problem with him."

            She sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears sulkily. I knew she wouldn't let the subject drop, though. Both of us were on the school's newspaper, and she was obsessed with the case. Even this morning when I'd walked into the office, she'd been using the newspaper's computer to look up information about the Voiceless Stranger. I didn't think she'd really recovered much—what was there to find? The only things most people knew about him was that he stopped crime, wore a black leather suit and a mask that covered three-quarters of his face, leaving only his clean-cut jaw and mouth for show.

            But he also had superpowers.

            I'm serious. Like, honest-to-God superpowers. I knew he had the ability to fly; he had X-ray vision, super-strength and could run abnormally fast. Nobody knew how he'd acquired these powers, but, then again, he hadn't exactly stuck around for a Q&A.

            Working at the newspaper, both Chloe and I thought of ourselves as budding investigative reporters, but that was really just a fancy way of saying 'two high school girls who work at the school's newspaper.' But Chloe was stubborn, and I knew she'd probably drag me into this case. Unlike Chloe, I was a complete pushover, so I knew that, despite my nonchalance towards the case, I'd probably be dragged into helping her crack the mystery of the Voiceless Stranger.

            "I still think we should be careful. He could be really dangerous," Chloe muttered.

            "Typical," a voice snorted from behind us, and Chloe swung around in her chair to stare at the boy behind her incredulously.

            "Excuse me?" she asked, and I turned around to see none other than Colton Cross sitting there, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed confidently over his broad, muscular chest.

            I didn't know how exactly to explain Colton Cross. He was somewhere between a loner and a bad boy. He always wore leather jackets and skipped class, but he rarely talked to anyone. He was handsome, with eyes the color of the Arctic, tanned, flawless skin, and dark brown hair that fell around his head in shaggy disarray.

            How did I know Colton Cross?

            Because he was my neighbor.

            Not many people knew, and I had wanted to keep it quiet. Maybe it was mean and stupid, but I didn't want people to know that cheerleader and journalist, Violet Rose, lived next door to resident bad boy and loner, Colton Cross. We were polar opposites. While his signature leather jacket was hung nonchalantly on him, I had on a pale pink sweater set. We were completely different people, on two different ends of the metaphorical totem pole.

            He'd moved here when he was twelve, and he'd always been strange. He rarely talked to anyone, and he shut himself off from the world. But I understood that. I didn't know who his real parents were, but for as long as I'd known him, he'd lived with his foster parents, Heidi and Landon. I didn't know what had happened to his real parents, and I was never going to ask him. It wasn't my place to know.

            I wasn't even sure why he'd turned up to first period chemistry, the first day back from break. Maybe because it was the first day of senior year, and the teachers we had today would be the ones that led us through the year, to graduation and into college, and we were all eager to impress. Even though our chemistry teacher was five minutes late. But, still, at least we were here on time, even if that included Colton. I doubted he'd show up much more.

            "You heard me," Colton said, replying to Chloe's question. He leant forward towards her, and his chair legs hit the ground with a crack that made me wince. "You're all typical. You cheerleaders who think you know it all. Just because the guy almost killed a couple people, doesn't make him a villain. They deserved everything they got."

            I turned to Chloe and smirked triumphantly. "Ha!" I gloated; feeling satisfied that he'd taken my side. I decided not to take offence to that earlier cheerleader comment though. No use getting stuck on minor technicalities.

            Her jaw dropped once again in disbelief, and a betrayed look appeared in her eyes, as if I'd just committed some big treason. "Are you seriously taking his side?" she asked, sounding offended. "Loner Loser's side? Really?"

            "Chloe," I chastised in disbelief, shocked by those callous words. A lot of people called Colton a lot of things, but it seriously wasn't nice. "Don't say stuff like that. It's rude."

            She snorted and turned back in her seat. "Whatever."

            The last thing I heard before the teacher walked in and began the first lesson of the year was the sound of Colton's voice, low enough that only I could hear. "Bitch."

            ~          *          ~

            I loved my house.

            While we lived in the richer, upper part of New York, like most places, it had it's lesser areas. My parents weren't as rich as, say, Chloe's, so we lived in a quiet suburban house, on a quiet, suburban street. It was wooden, with big shutters, bay windows and a gabled roof. It was two storeys, with a double garage, three bedrooms, two bathrooms—both en suites—a basement and attic, and a clear view of the well-lit street beneath.

            One of my favorite places in the whole entire house was the roof. Since my house was multi-storied, it had two roofs, one above the attic, and one right next to my window. I went there to read or do homework for school, or sometimes to just think and mull over everything in my life—you know, as emotional teenage girls do.

            This time I just sat on my roof, staring down at the street. It was about eight at night, so it was almost completely dark. Inside I could hear my mother singing quietly to herself as she washed the dishes, and my dad was humming along with her as he dried them. Normally it was my job, but, since it was my first day back at school, they'd insisted on doing it.

            My parents were just about the nicest people imaginable. My mother had raven hair that just reached her shoulders and was cut into a concave hairstyle. She was slim and tall, with dark brown eyes, tanned skin and straight white teeth. She was a real estate agent, and she always seemed to get the most sales yearly. I had a feeling it was due to her looks that won her over a lot. My mother was a stunner, and she'd even won a modeling competition in her teenage years. She was sweet, and she made me laugh and she was my best friend. Not even Chloe could compare to the relationship I had with my mother. We did everything together, and my best days were spent with her.

            My father was the complete opposite of her. While I'd gotten dark hair, mine had been a mix between her raven locks and my dad's sandy blonde hair, making it dark brown, but not comparative to my mother's. I had no idea where I'd gotten my purple eyes from, considering my dad's were the color of icicles and my mom's were the color of dark chocolate. I'd heard of people with violet eyes, but it wasn't all that common, and there wasn't a lot of information about it.

            I sighed and sifted a hand through my dark hair. Over the summer I'd decided to cut it, and now it felt strange for my hand to run out of hair so quickly. It just reached my shoulders, and fell stick-straight in blunt layers. I liked the change, though.

            The street was peaceful and quiet around me, and I lay back on the roof tiles and ignored the pain in my back from where the tiles cut in. I breathed in the warm night air, shutting my eyes and thinking about random things. Though I wasn't happy about going back to school, I was glad to see my friends and be back into my routine again. Even if the early mornings were a slow and relentless torture.

            "You know, that does not look safe," a deep, smooth voice informed me, and I let out a startled scream, scrambling up and whipping around. My neck cracked and throbbed in protest, but I barely registered that as I looked at what stood in front of me.

            He was tall, dark, lean and athletic, wearing a leather suit that melded to his body, seeming like a second skin. The bigger half of his face was covered in a dark mask, and I couldn't make out any features on him. His hair was covered, and his eyes looked black as I stared into them.

            "I... What?" I whispered, staring at him wide-eyed. My mouth went dry at the fact that the Voiceless Stranger was standing merely three feet away from me. The man who had sent over ten guys to jail, the man who could fly. Standing in front of me. Right now.

            "I said," he drawled patronizingly, as if I were a toddler who didn't understand a simple instruction, "Lying on your roof seems awfully uncomfortable... and a little unsafe."

            "Who are you?" I whispered, eyes wide in horror.

            Even through the mask I could tell he was giving me a pointed look, probably one aimed to inform me that I was an idiot. "I think you know the answer to that question, Violet."

            My whole body tensed. He knew my name. The town's super-villain knew my name. Oh, my God, this was not good! How had this even happened? I'd never had contact with him before, and I didn't know how he could know my name. I'd never needed saving, and I was just a normal girl.

            "Stay away from me," I whispered, my heart pounding furiously in my chest and the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I sweated uncomfortably under his stare, which felt like it could see into the very depths of my soul.

            His mouth pulled up into a cocky smirk. "What's wrong, Violet? You're not scared of me, are you?"

            He took a step closer, and immediately I took one back. But still he moved closer, and my stomach twisted uncomfortably at the close proximity. This guy was dangerous, and every muscle in my body screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go. "Stop," I whispered. "Stay away. Please. Stay—"

            But I never got to finish that sentence, because the next thing I knew, the roof had dropped out from under me.

            Okay, maybe the rood hadn't simply dropped. That wasn't possible. I'd been up here a million times, and the roof was sturdy. I couldn't believe it. I mean, I knew I was clumsy, but not clumsy enough to walk off the side of my own roof. That was reaching a whole new level of stupidity on my part. Almost as bad as the time I narrowly avoided being hit by a school bus.

            I let out a small shriek as my body fell, and the wind whipped around me, blowing my hair in all different directions. "No!" I heard him scream, but it was too late.

            This was how I died. I couldn't believe it. This was how I died. By meeting the town's super-villain and walking off of my own roof. I at least hoped they put this on my gravestone. People would have a good laugh for years to come. I'd always wanted to be a comedian. If not in life, even in death would do.

            My whole body tensed, ready for the pain that was sure to follow. I didn't know if I would die. If I landed headfirst, most likely. Other than that I'd be a catatonic vegetable—not to be rude. If I landed anywhere else, shattered bones seemed like the best possible outcome. There weren't good odds. There was no way I'd come out of this looking like the normal Violet.

            All of these thoughts rushed through in rapid succession, and I reveled in the fact that the last thing I would see would be a dark sky with millions of glittering stars sparkling overhead. We lived in one of the only places in New York where you could still see the stars, and now, it seemed like a blessing. Like that quote about shooting for the moon, and even if you missed you'd be amongst the stars. They really were beautiful.

            The pavement got closer, and I shut my eyes against the certainty of my fate, not wanting to know. It was unfair that I had to die so young. What had I done to deserve a death like this?

            And just like that, I didn't hit the pavement, but instead tumbled into someone's arms, and I fell against them heavily. They let out a sound of surprise, sounding much like 'oomph', but I barely registered it.

            My eyes fluttered open to look into the masked man's eyes, and I realized that I was curled into his body like a ball, my head laying against his covered chest as his arms supported me. "I realize now why your parents named you Violet. Your eyes are the color of violets," he informed me, as if I were not yet aware of that fact. Like I had not yet had seventeen years to process that fact.

            I let out a choked sound in my throat that sounded much like a sob, and the man pulled me closer comfortingly, startling me with the gentleness of his voice. "It's okay," he whispered, cradling me into his warm, hard chest. "It's all going to be okay."

            But it wasn't. And the shock and horror of my situation crashed over me. I could've died. I could've been a pancake on the sidewalk by now, but instead the town's bad guy had saved me.

            I don't know what happened. Maybe the shock got too much for me to process, but suddenly, the world seemed too strange to deal with, and I found my eyes fluttering shut, a weight pressing in on my eyelids and making it unbearable to process anything but a dull throbbing in my body. My leg was twitching slightly, and hot and cold flushes were traveling through my body like fire in my veins.

            The last thing I heard before I blanked out and succumbed to oblivion were the soft, whispered words of the Voiceless Stranger. "I won't let anything hurt you."