𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞́

𝐓𝐖: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐞, 𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

...🏀...

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

𝐀 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤...𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

I yanked at it, but the fabric was caught on its teeth. I took a calming breath, trying not to throw the annoying bag across the room and gave the zipper a sharp tug.

It gave.

Sunlight from the morning sun streamed through the windows of the living room, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. The air had a hint of fresh coffee and faintest trace of my mom's vanilla scented candles. I could hear birds chirping through the windows as if they didn't have a care in the world, like their world didn't feel like it was on the verge of collapsing.

A coo caused me to turn and a soft smile graced my lips at Leila in her playpen in the corner, her little hands gripping her favorite pink stuffed turtle curtsey of Nathan. Once he gave it to her on her birthday, Leila and it has been inseparable ever since.

I reached for her favorite pink blanket and tucked it into the bag, just as a throat cleared behind me.

Peering over my shoulder, I found Atlas leaning against the wooden doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest. "So," he began casually, "why am I coming with you and Leila to her doctor's appointment today? Shouldn't that be your boyfriend's job?"

My jaw ticked, and I ignored him, throwing a pack of wipes into the bag with more force than was necessary.

It's only been a couple of days since Nathan and Andrew got into another fight at Midnight Madness. A couple days since I broke Rachel's nose and kissed Nathan. Days filled with me ignoring Nathan and pretty much everyone who tried to get to talk to him. I didn't want to talk to my boyfriend.

He lied to me.

I even gave him a chance to come clean and tell me himself. But he didn't. Instead, I had to find out through him and Andrew fighting again that Andrew was a Raven.

"Are you and Nathan still fighting?" Atlas voice broke through my thoughts just as I zipped up the bag. "I mean, I get it, he lied. But don't you think you should at least hear him out?"

I looked at him like he just grown a second head. "You aren't serious." He stared at me expectantly.

Oh, he was.

Boys are so fucking dumb.

I slung the bag over my shoulder getting to my feet. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear those words come out of your stupid fucking mouth." Atlas mouth dropped taking offense. "You're coming with me because you need to spend more time with your niece unless you would like to tell me why you're spending so much time with my best friend?"

He avoided my gaze. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Right.

I rolled my eyes, not believing him for a second. "Please, I might be a mom, but I have eyes. You two have been circling each other ever since I got back. You even gave her your necklace, Atlas." I placed my hands on my hips. "You never take that thing off."

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.

I looked out the window and stiffened at the black truck parked in the driveway right beside my car.

My mom's voice carried from the front hallway as she greeted whoever it was. I turned and pulled Leila into my arms just as footsteps echoed against the floors. His gaze burned into me, and I didn't turn. I simply adjusted the tiny light purple flower clips in Leila's dark brown curls that were pulled into two small space buns.

"Mylah," his voice was a desperate plea to my ears and my resolve was weakening.

I gave in and turned his blue eyes found mine instantly. Guilt shone in his eyes and even though I wanted to give in and walked over to him, feeling my heart ache because I missed him.

I couldn't.

"We need to talk." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'm kind of busy," I rushed out, turning from him just as Leila held out her arms, clapping, reaching for him.

Sighing, I let him take her out of my arms, seeing where my daughter's loyalty lies and honestly, I couldn't blame her. If I wasn't so pissed at Nathan, I would want to be in his arms, too.

"Why don't we give you two a minute?" My mom offered taking Leila from Nathan. "Come on, Atlas, I show you how to use the car seat."

With that, they disappeared, leaving Nathan and me alone in the living room.

I crossed my arms as the silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. It was taking everything in me not to let the anger over take me. Because I understood where Nathan was coming from why he lied to me. But that didn't mean I had to like it or that I couldn't be pissed off.

He took a step toward me.

"I was going to tell you—"

I snapped.

A sharp crack echoed around the room and I hardly even felt the stinging in my palm. But I didn't regret it.

Nathan barely reacted. His jaw tightened as he brought a hand up to rub the red side of his face. He took a slow breath, then met my gaze again. "I deserved that."

"You lied to me." I snapped through the anger.

"I know." He sighed.

"I gave you a chance to tell me, Nathan. But you still lied." I blinked back tears as hurt swelled in my chest.

His gaze softened, and I knew he could see the tears in my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"That doesn't change the fact you still lied." I pointed at my chest as anger and sadness swarmed through me. "I had a right to know, Nathan."

"I was trying to protect you," he said, his voice resigned with a mix of guilt and realization of how much his lie hurt me. "I almost didn't make it in time last time, Mylah. When Atlas ran to me and told me that you were having a panic attack and then I saw Andrew's hands on you. You looked so scared."

I flinched, the memory slicing through me like a blade. I knew exactly how that day could've ended if Nathan hadn't stopped him. The thought alone was enough to make my chest tighten, my breath hitch.

Even now, just the mention of Andrew threatened to drag me under, but the not knowing—the uncertainty of when and where he'd show up next—was worse. And if he appeared on the basketball court? That would be enough to shatter whatever fragile control I had left.

Nathan took another step closer, his eyes pleading now. "I'm so sorry that I lied to you. But I did it because I love you and I can't lose you. Everything I do—everything—is to protect you and Leila. You both are everything to me."

Tears welled and threaten to spill, but I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "I know that, Nathan. I do." My voice was barely above a whisper. "But you need to know something, too."

He stared at me, waiting.

I wet my lips and reached out, grabbing his hands, placing them on my chest, searching his eyes. "I'm not going to break every time he's around." My voice grew stronger, steadier. "I'm getting stronger, Nathan. And I needed you, God, I need you to trust that, trust me."

Regret flashed across his face, but I didn't let myself dwell on it. I knew he was sorry—I could see it in the way his jaw tensed, in the way his eyes searched mine, silently pleading.

But if I forgave him now, what was stopping him from doing it again?

It was in his nature to be overprotective—and God, I loved him for it. He made me feel safe in a way no one else ever had. But lying to me about Andrew wasn't protecting me. It wasn't keeping me safe.

Because Nathan couldn't be with me every second of the day.

I had to learn to protect myself.

Dropping his hands, I turned, heading for the door.

Nathan reached for my hand, pulling me to him, and it took everything in me to not sink into him. His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek and I stared at him under my lashes.

"Mylah," the anguish in his voice almost broke me and I couldn't help as a tear fell down my cheek.

The agony in his blue eyes was almost too much to bear. "I wished you had told me."

I pulled away and left him standing there in the living room alone.

Atlas and Leila were already in the car waiting as I made my way outside.

I slid into the driver's seat and turned, putting the diaper bag into the back on the floor before turning back, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Atlas glanced at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

He didn't utter a single word, and I was glad because I didn't want to talk about it.

I pulled out of the driveway, rain starting to patter against the windshield.

"Don't be like everyone else," I muttered as the road stretched ahead of us.

"Everyone else?" Atlas wondered.

"I'm not ready to forgive him." I explained. "Everyone wants me to because he made a mistake and I get that, but...I can't. Not for this. Not yet."

"Okay," Atlas voice was full of understanding and I glanced at him out the corner of my eye. "Forgive him when you're ready, Mylah. He'll wait."

I just hoped my cousin was right.

...🏀...

The walls of the doctor's office were too white, too sterile. It felt like you were trapped in a void—waiting. I tapped my fingers against the edge of the chair, my eyes darting between the doctor and Leila, who sat on the exam table, kicking her little legs against the paper sheet.

She had no idea what was happening, too busy smacking her hands together, fascinated by the sound. I wished I could live in her world for a moment—where nothing hurt, nothing changed, and the biggest concern was whether I'd hand her my necklace or her turtle to play with.

"Overall, Leila is doing great," Dr. Whitmore said, her voice calm, professional. But I caught the shift in her tone before she even got to the next part. "However, after running some additional tests, we did notice something."

My body stiffened. Atlas, who had been slouching in the chair next to me, sat up a little straighter.

Dr. Whitmore offered a reassuring smile, the kind meant to soften a blow. "Leila has Type 1 diabetes."

The words didn't register at first. They floated between us, weightless, until they suddenly crashed into me all at once. I felt my pulse spike, a sharp breath getting caught in my throat.

"What?" My voice came out weaker than I wanted it to.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I want to reassure you—we caught it early. That's important." Dr. Whitmore's eyes softened. "With proper management, she'll live a completely normal life. We'll send you home with paperwork and get you set up with everything you need, including a Dexcom to monitor her levels."

Leila cooed, blissfully unaware of the shift in the room. I reached for her, pulling her against my chest, her warmth grounding me. My heart pounded against my ribs as I pressed my lips to her soft curls, inhaling the faint scent of baby lotion.

"She's going to be okay," Atlas murmured beside me.

I nodded, holding Leila a little tighter. "Yeah."

Dr. Whitmore gave me another reassuring smile before excusing herself to gather the supplies. The room fell into a thick silence, broken only by Leila's tiny hums as she clutched onto my shirt.

I needed a distraction.

I glanced at Atlas, who was absently tapping his fingers against his knee, staring at the floor like it had all the answers. "So," I started, my voice a little steadier than I expected, "are you going to tell me what's going on between you and Haley, or are we going to pretend I don't see the way you look at her?"

Atlas let out a groan, dragging his hands down his face. "Mylah—"

"Oh, don't 'Mylah' me," I cut in, shifting Leila onto my hip. "You've been weird about her for weeks. And you think I wouldn't notice?"

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "It's complicated."

I arched a brow. "Atlas Evans, Hollywood's golden boy, is struggling over a girl?" I let out a small laugh, but the teasing was gentle. "Come on. Spill."

His jaw tensed for a second before he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I've never felt like this before," he admitted, voice low, like saying it out loud made it more real.

I studied him, really studied him. The cousin I'd grown up with—the one who had been in the public eye since we were kids, who had flings and red-carpet relationships but never anything serious—looked wrecked.

My expression softened. "Do you like her?"

Atlas scoffed, shaking his head. "Like her?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "I can't breathe without her, Mylah." His green eyes flickered to mine, raw and unguarded. "When she's not around, it feels like something's missing. And when she is, I don't know how to act because I want her so badly it's ridiculous."

A slow smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "You idiot," I muttered.

"What?"

I reached over, smacking his arm lightly. "You need to tell her."

Atlas groaned again, leaning back in his chair like the ceiling was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. "And what if she doesn't feel the same?"

I rolled my eyes. "Atlas, I know my best friend. And I know when she looks at you, she doesn't just see some actor or some guy she's known for years. She sees you." I softened, shifting Leila in my arms. "And I think that terrifies her as much as it terrifies you."

Atlas was quiet for a long moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, okay."

I smiled, nudging him with my knee. "Good. Because if you don't say something, I'm just going to do it for you."

He shot me a glare. "You wouldn't."

I grinned. "Try me."

A reluctant smirk tugged at his lips. He shook his head but didn't argue.

Dr. Whitmore returned a moment later, paperwork in hand, and the weight of reality settled back in. But for those few stolen minutes, in that quiet exam room, I wasn't just a mom trying to keep it together. I was just Mylah, teasing her cousin, giving advice, and reminding him that love—real love—was worth fighting for.

And maybe, just maybe, I needed that reminder just as much as he did.

...🏀...

"Chris Keller?!" Peyton gaped, shocked. 

Brooke sobbed, nodding as tears streamed down her face. I stared at her, my best friend, utterly speechless. My brain refused to process what I had just heard—Brooke Davis, the girl hopelessly in love with Lucas Scott, had slept with Chris Keller. The arrogant, self-obsessed musician turned rock star.

"You're telling me Lucas actually saw?" Haley asked from the other side of Brooke, her voice tinged with disbelief.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, bouncing Leila on my knee, still struggling to wrap my head around it. "Let me get this straight—you, the girl who has been pining over Lucas, slept with Chris fucking Keller?"

"Stop saying his name!" Brooke wailed, pressing a tissue to her already tear-streaked face.

My eyes widened at her outburst while Peyton let out a dramatic groan, throwing her head back against the couch in defeat. If I didn't think Brooke would actually murder me, I might've laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"I don't get it," Haley said, holding up her hands in frustration. "When Atlas and I left, you were literally pushing him out the door!"

I blinked, my mind latching onto the one thing that didn't quite fit. "Atlas and you?"

Haley stiffened. "Not now," she muttered through clenched teeth, jerking her head toward Brooke, who looked like she was one bad comment away from another meltdown.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Later."

"I know, I know, I don't know," Brooke sobbed, flinging tear drenched tissues around in her hands. "We were...we were drinking, and I was feeling really lonely and I was calling Lucas and he wasn't answering his phone and then Chris came out of the bathroom and he was just so nice to me and he said my clothes were inspired."

I gave her a look. "Seriously, Brooke." 

Peyton looked away in disgust, and Brooke continued. "Oh God, I told you guys I was—was drinking, but he said a lot of other things and..." 

I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhale harshly. "Brooke, honey, you are smarter than that." 

"Oh, my God you guys, I'm a groupie." Brooke cried, and it took everything in me to keep my face neutral. 

"Uh, okay, have you talked to Lucas?" Peyton suggested, catching Brooke's attention. 

Tears streaked down Brooke's face as she threw her hands up in frustration. "He won't answer my calls...and I mean, I'm not about to leave some pathetic apology letter in his car!"

I arched a brow, my eye twitching slightly, but I bit back a response. Instead, I set Leila down, watching as she eagerly crawled toward her pink turtle near the playpen. "Thanks for that, Brooke," I muttered.

She grimaced, guilt flickering across her face. "Sorry."

I forced a tight smile. "Sure."

Brooke exhaled shakily, hugging her arms around herself. "Lucas is never going to talk to me again," she whispered, her voice thick with heartbreak.

Before I could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the house. My frown deepened as I pushed to my feet, already sensing trouble. I rushed to the door, feeling the girls follow close behind, and yanked it open.

I immediately regretted it.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," I growled, scowling at the man standing smugly on my doorstep.

Chris Keller.

That insufferable smirk of his made my fingers itch to slap it right off his face.

He lifted a box of donuts like a peace offering. "Chris Keller always springs for breakfast."

I whirled to Brooke, pleading. "Please let me kick his ass. Or better yet, I have a taser upstairs."

Chris's smirk widened. "Kinky."

I lunged at him, but before I could make contact, Haley and Peyton grabbed my arms, pulling me back.

"Don't be like that, Mylah," Chris taunted. "I can share."

Brooke stepped around me, scoffing as she snatched the donuts from his hands. Without a word, she slammed the door in his face.

I glared at the wooden barrier between us and the headache standing outside. "You should've let me hit him," I grumbled.

...🏀...

The echoed of chalk hitting the chalkboard is the only sound as silence stretches along. My pen was moving along my notebook, lyrics flowing out of me, trying and failing to distract me from gazes on my back. 

I stopped mid lyric and peered over my shoulder, finding blue eyes and my breath caught in the back of my throat. It never got old that Nathan could always take my breath away, even when we weren't speaking. 

A throat cleared, and I turned tensing as Andrew smirked at me. I swallowed, twisting back to the front in my seat, begging for the time to go faster. I felt like I was suffocating with Nathan's longing stares at my back and Andrew's next to me. 

"Hey?" 

I lifted my gaze, turning to my other side to Lucas. "Yes?" 

"I thought about it...and you're right," he murmured, his voice low as he leaned in slightly.

I held my breath, hoping—praying—that what I said to him yesterday, while he was painting his front door black, had actually gotten through.

"I'm gonna talk to Brooke," he admitted, his gaze flickering toward the empty desk in front of me.

Without missing a beat, he called out, "Hey, Brooke."

I sighed, seeing that he was, in fact, not going to give Brooke another chance. "Look Luke, I know you're hurting and I'm not going to excuse what Brooke did. It was wrong." 

"Why do I feel a but coming?" Lucas frowned. 

I rolled my eyes, knowing he was hurting. "Don't be a smart ass." He just clenched his jaw, and I continued. "But you did cheat on her with Peyton last year." 

"I don't know what that has to do with anything." He grumbled, avoiding my gaze. 

"It has to do with everything." I pushed and waited until his eyes found mine again. "She's insecure because she's scared one day she's not going to be enough for you. Just like last time." He didn't say anything, and I knew he knew I was right. "Because, like last time, she wasn't enough." 

"I didn't sleep with Peyton." He decided to point out for me. "She slept with Chris." 

I leveled him with a stare, fully aware he was conveniently leaving out the details that didn't serve his case.

"Well, technically, you and Brooke aren't even dating, so she didn't cheat."

He opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut just as fast.

"And for the record," I added, crossing my arms, "kissing a girl who isn't your girlfriend and then hiding it from her? That's still cheating. Technically." 

"So I'm just supposed to forgive her." He sighed, and I hated seeing the hurt in his eyes.

I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "No Luke. But if you love her and still want to be with her, then you and her need to work it out. Because if not...then you need to let her go." 

The shrill of the bell echoes and I slung my bag over my shoulder, pushing up from my desk barely sparing a glance at Whitey as I slipped out of the classroom. 

I needed air. 

I needed space. 

I got neither. 

"Mylah, wait—" 

Nathan's voice cut through the noise of the crowded hallway, firm but pleading. I would have stopped but a second voice unwanted followed. 

"I don't think she wants to talk to you, Scott," Andrew sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. 

I didn't have the energy or the time to deal with either of them today. 

I whirled around, looking at both of them, exasperated. "Just leave me alone, both of you." 

Nathan's eyes flashed with guilt and something else unreadable, but he stopped in his track. But Andrew, however, was an entirely different story. 

He let out a low chuckle, taking another step. "Now it doesn't have to be like that." 

"Actually, yes it does." I said through clenched teeth, trying and failing to ignore the panic seizing in my chest. 

Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed towards my locker. I moved through the crowded hallway—cheerleaders fixing their hair, basketball players adjusting their ties of their dressed shirts, students lost in their own conservation leaning against their own lockers. 

I didn't let out the breath I was holding until I reached my locker, pressing my forehead against the cool metal for just a moment. 

Just one second. 

That's all I needed to steady myself, to force my heart to stop racing like it was trying to escape my chest.

I knew it wouldn't always be like this—that one day, facing him wouldn't leave my hands shaking. But right now? Knowing he was here, walking these same halls, sitting in the same classrooms, breathing the same air?

It was fucking torture.

The monster from my nightmare was alive and breathing, and he goes to my fucking school. 

The sharp click of metal echoed down the hallway, drawing my attention before I could stop myself. I shouldn't have looked. I knew better. But apparently, I had a habit of chasing heartache.

Nathan pulled open his locker, his body tensing the second he took it in. His brows furrowed, his eyes sweeping over the door, confusion flickering across his face.

Gone was the plain blue metal now decorated in school colors—white and navy—with his jersey number in bold black print. His name stood on the opposite side, a basketball surrounded by a raven nestled beneath it.

His head snapped toward me, and just like that, I forgot how to breathe.

"Did you do this?"

I could've lied. Could've let him believe some other cheerleader had taken it upon herself to do something nice for the team's star player. It would've been easier.

But I couldn't.

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching against the strap of my bag, and held his gaze.

Slowly, I nodded.

I turned before he could say anything, pushing off my locker, leaving my books behind like they didn't matter. Because if I stood there another second, I would've closed the distance between us and run straight into his arms.

He had lied to me, and that killed me.

But staying away from him?

That hurt so much more.

...🏀...

The Ravens got their asses kicked. 

𝟐𝟑-𝟒𝟑

I pulled my cheer jacket tighter around myself against the chill of the breeze, feeling fall creeping in as I walked across the near empty parking lot. My footsteps echoing against the quiet. 

Frowning, my skin prickle, feeling like someone was watching me. I picked up my pace, sliding my hand into my cheer bag, fingers grazing over the small can of pepper spray as I hurried to my car.

"Did I tell you that your look good in that uniform?" 

I whirled around, tensing at Andrew's dark eyes racking over me. A wave of nausea built and I could almost taste it on the back of my throat. I glanced quickly around me, realizing that it was only me and him—all alone. 

"Leave me alone, Andrew." My voice steady despite the fear gripping tightly at my ribs. 

"Oh, I don't think you mean that." He shifted lazily from side to side, his hands shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants. "It's just us now. No Scott. No more distractions. I think it's time that you came back to where you belong." 

His eyes gleamed under the streetlight, sharp and menacing, carrying the same darkness I remembered too well. The same look he had right before he used to beat me until I could barely breathe.

Even now, some nights, I woke up gasping, drowning in memories that refused to stay buried. The scent of blood, the feeling of cold hardwood beneath my cheek, the echoes of his voice slicing through the silence—it all came rushing back like I was there again. Back in his room. Back on that floor.

My body had escaped.

But sometimes, my mind still hasn't.

But I was safe, and I wasn't back there scared as he beat me into submission. 

I wasn't that girl anymore. I was stronger...braver.

"I will never belong to you." I said, my voice stronger, sharper this time. 

Andrew's lips curled into that cruel smirk of his, and his eyes darken. "Same old Mylah. You actually believe you have a choice in this. Baby, I'm not asking." 

𝐓𝐖: 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Panic coiled in my stomach, twisting tighter with every step. It clawed at my ribs, demanding to be set free, but I shoved it down. My fingers wrapped tightly around the pepper spray in my pocket as I quickened my pace, heading straight for my car.

I didn't look back. It wouldn't have mattered.

A hand shot out, fingers clamping around my arm in a bruising grip. Before I could react, I was yanked backward and twisted, my body slamming against the side of my car. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, pain radiating through my shoulder. I bit down hard on my tongue to keep from crying out.

"I was trying to be nice," Andrew murmured, his grip tightening. His voice was deceptively soft, dripping with condescension, but the menace underneath was sharp enough to slice through me. "Why couldn't you just listen, hmm?"

I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. There was a time when fear would have paralyzed me, left me gasping for air, stuck in that loop of helplessness.

Not anymore.

Because for the first time in a long time, all I felt for Andrew was rage.

It roared through me, burning away the fear, demanding to be unleashed.

So I let it.

I yanked my arm free, and for a split second, confusion flickered across his face. But he was too slow. My other hand was already moving, already gripping the pepper spray.

I lifted it.

Aimed.

Pressed the nozzle.

His screams tore through the night as he stumbled back, his hands flying to his face, rubbing at his burning eyes.

I didn't wait.

I ran.

My bag slipped from my shoulder, hitting the pavement with a dull thud, but I didn't stop. My hands fumbled with my keys, my fingers shaking as I unlocked the door. I had just pulled it open when—

Bang.

Something heavy slammed into me from behind, shoving me forward. My skull cracked against the window with sickening force.

Pain detonated in my head, white-hot and all-consuming.

A strangled groan tore from my throat as my knees buckled, the ground rising up to meet me. My vision blurred, the world tilting, but I felt him before I saw him—his weight pressing down, pinning me against the pavement.

Blindly, I thrashed, kicking, clawing, my screams raw and desperate.

And then—it started.

That familiar numbness. That part of my mind that had saved me before, the place I always escaped to when he was on top of me, creeping in. Trying to pull me under.

Begging me to let go.

But I couldn't.

If I slipped away, I wouldn't be able to fight.

And this time, I wasn't going down without one.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

"You little—" 

He never finished his sentence. 

Because he was gone, ripped off me in my next breath. 

My screamed died, and I blinked dazed slowly sitting up just as Andrew's body hit the pavement with a sickening thud. Nathan stood over him, breathing hard fists clenched like my avenging angel. 

Andrew groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "You—"

Nathan grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up before slamming him against the hood of a nearby car. 

"If you ever fucking touch her again—" Nathan's voice was low, dangerous. 

Andrew coughed, smirking despite the blood trickling from his split lip. "You wanna hit me, Scott? Go ahead. We both know what happens if you do. If you need a remind we can always go to Whitey's office." Nathan tensed, his broad shoulders stiffening. "You can kiss being captain—actually even being on the team goodbye." 

What? 

Nathan's grip on Andrew's jersey tightened, his entire body shaking with restrained fury. 

I slowly got to my feet just as my hand slipped through my fingers, wrapping around exactly what I was looking for. 

Andrew smirked. "That's what I thought—"

I jammed the taser into Andrew's rips and pulled the trigger. 

The zap was immediate. 

Andrew let out a strangled scream, his body convulsing, and I took sweet pleasure in seeing him in pain. He collapsed onto the pavement, his limbs twitching uncontrollably. 

"Holy shit." Nathan gawked. 

 I stepped over Andrew's shaking form, pressing my sneaker into his fucking chest just hard enough to make my point before crouching down, looking him in the eyes. "Next time," My voice was icy. "It won't be a taser." 

He groaned in pain, his body still trembling from the shock. I raised a brow and pulled the trigger, sending another shock through him, not giving a shit as he cried out in pain. 

I got to my feet and turned, pausing as Nathan was staring at me. His blue eyes were locked onto me, a mixed of shock and something else—something unreadable. 

Clearing my throat, I jerked to my car. "Need a ride?" 

He just nodded. 

I grabbed my cheer bag off the pavement, tossing it into the backseat before sliding into the driver's seat. Nathan didn't hesitate, climbing in beside me just as I started the engine.

The drive was silent. Not the comfortable kind, but the heavy, suffocating kind—the kind where too much had been said, yet somehow, not enough.

It wasn't until I pulled up outside his house, cutting the engine, that I finally broke it.

"I told you," I said simply, pushing open my door and stepping out. The cool night air bit at my skin as I walked to the front of the car, perching myself on the hood.

A moment later, the passenger door opened and closed. Nathan emerged, his Raven duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his steps slow as he stopped in front of me.

"I'm not going to break," I said, my voice steady.

Nathan exhaled, something flickering behind his blue eyes—admiration, maybe. Respect. Whatever it was, it softened his features, made his grip on the strap of his bag loosen slightly.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice low, thoughtful. "I can see that."

I pushed off the car, closing the distance between us. My gaze searched his, my fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"Good," I whispered.

Before I could overthink it, I let my heart take the lead, and I brushed my lips against his. It was light almost teasing, but I needed to brace myself for the possibility that Nathan would push me away because after all I've been pushing him away for days.

But he didn't. 

His duffel bag dropped, and Nathan kissed me back.

 A low growl rumbled in his throat as he deepened the kiss, his hands finding me like he'd been starved for this moment. One of his hands slid to my waist, digging in, pulling me flush against him while the other tangled into my curls, gripping tightly. 

I let him take control, let him pour everything he couldn't say into the way his mouth moved against mine. The regret, the guilty, the frustration, the longing, and the love that neither of us could deny. 

His teeth grazed my bottom lip, sending a sharp jolt down my spine. I gasped, and he took advantage, his tongue sliding into my mouth, brushing against mine with a slow deliberate tease that sent heat pooling at my core.

Everything else blurred into nothing—Nathan kissed me like he was both claiming and punishing me, like he needed me to feel just how much I belonged to him. And, God, I did.

My fingers twisted into the front of his sweatshirt, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground. But it wasn't just about holding on. It was about needing more. More of him. More of this.

I pressed closer, molding against him, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could feel it through the layers of fabric between us.

Nathan groaned into my mouth, his grip tightening at my waist, like he was just as desperate, just as undone as I was.

"Nathan," I gasped, breaking away, my breaths uneven.

He didn't let go. His forehead dropped to mine, his own breathing ragged, as if stopping had taken just as much effort for him as it had for me.

I swallowed hard. "If you ever lie to me again, I will kick your ass."

A slow smirk curled his lips as he reached up, brushing a damp curl from my face. "Understood."

I opened my mouth, but before the words could leave my mouth, he crashed his lips back onto mine, stealing my breath all over again.

God, I missed him. 

...🏀...

𝐀/𝐍: GUYS I SHOCKED EVEN MYSELF!!!!

When I tell you that Nathan and Mylah are taking over my life. Because I literally tried to write my other books and every time I come back to write Mylah and Nathan. 

I might finish this book before I even get around to updating my other ones. Which honestly wouldn't make me mad, especially since I have 27 books published and only ONE of them is complete 🫣. Not to mention the many more like another OTH book in my drafts (possibly a Quentin Fields x OC book because that man deserved better 😭😭)

Anyway, there was angst in this chapter but they made up at the end...for now 🤭. 

Also I know that some people are going to come for me making them makeup so quickly or having them fight and I would just like to kindly remind you that one this was the plan when I first decided to do the rewrite and second...they're high schoolers and if anyone remembers in high school that couples broke up and made up so many times that it sometimes gave you whiplash. 

I hope you guys enjoyed watching Mylah fight back and if you are wondering about the Whitey situation...it'll make more sense when we get to chapter 29 why Whitey did what he did. That man HATES Andrew like literally HATES more than Dan and that's saying something. But yeah, wait for chapter 29. I do have a plan...most of the time. 

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: How do you feel about the book so far? Do we like that Mylah defended herself? Should she have forgiven Nathan? Would you like Andrew to be killed off (painfully, of course) or rot in jail? In act four (AKA THE LAST ACT OF THIS BOOK) would you want a detailed wedding chapter or just have it mentioned? What else are you guys looking forward to or wanting in the rest of the act???

-𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘