𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆...𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐊𝐎𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐄 portrayed by Mason Gooding

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

...🏀...

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞.

I sat rigid in the makeup chair, hands locked together in my lap, knuckles stiff from how hard I was clenching. The pale green fabric of my skirt rippled from the blast of the overhead vent, its frayed edges brushing against my skin like a ghost of comfort I couldn't feel. Nothing about this moment felt calm. Not with the weight pressing into my chest. Not with Camilla pacing behind me like she was preparing for war in her red louboutin.

"I said no," I snapped, twisting halfway in the chair, my eyes locking onto her, never wavering.

She stopped, arms crossed, her olive green nails digging into the fabric of her black off the shoulder dress. "And I said this is happening, Mylah."

The door opened.

A man stepped in, tall, broad shoulders, black shirt tucked neatly into black combat pants, boots silent against the floor. He looked like he belonged more in the military or army than backstage at The Tonight Show. He said nothing, just stood next to me, arms folded, expression unreadable.

I blinked up at him. "Who the hell is that?"

"Your bodyguard," Camilla said flatly.

"No."

"Yes."

My voice raised with the next word. "Camilla—"

"It's not just me. Your parents agree."

I froze, my eyes darting to the couch across the room where my mom and dad were seated, both watching me with quiet, uneasy expressions. My mom looked down at her hands, and my dad...he actually looked worried.

That alone took my breath away.

I stood slowly, the hem of my skirt brushing the floor. "Now you two care?" I asked, eyebrows raised. "Now I matter enough for a security detail?"

"Mylah," my dad began, standing. "That's not fair."

"No," I cut in, stepping toward them, my heels hitting the tile like warning shots. "You spend every waking second wrapped up in Alex's stats, his scouts, his scholarships, his scoring averages—how many points he has over Nathan. You've never even asked what song I'm working on or how I'm actually doing. But now?" I scoffed. "Now I'm suddenly worth protecting?"

He stepped forward, jaw clenched. "Since we can't legally force Andrew to leave the school, this is the next best thing."

"I don't need a fucking bodyguard!"

"As much as I'd love to put that piece of shit in the ground and get away with it," my dad growled, stepping closer, "I can't. So yeah, this is it."

I stumbled back a step, my arms crossing over my chest like armor. "I don't want this."

Camilla hadn't flinched once. Her arms were folded, her expression all steel. "It's not about what you want, Mylah. It's about what's necessary. And Andrew..." she exhaled through her nose, "...isn't the only problem."

That made me pause.

I turned, frowning. "What does that mean?"

My mom stood now too, her hands wringing together. "You've been getting fan mail, baby...some good...some..." she trailed off, swallowing hard.

Camilla cut in, her voice firm and clear. "Your getting fucking death threats, Mylah." I gaped at her. "The others are leaning more into full-blown stalker territory."

I blinked at her, stunned. "What?"

She handed me a small stack of letters bound with a thin red string. "Here. See for yourself."

I pulled the string loose and flipped through the first couple, my eyes scanning the messy handwriting and sharp, threatening words. My breath caught in my throat as I read one that said:

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

The letters were slanted, dark, too familiar.

My stomach twisted violently. I recognized the way he curved his "Y"—like a hook. Like bait.

I swallowed hard and lifted my eyes to Camilla, forcing the words out before panic could bury them. "This one's from Andrew."

Silence dropped over the room like a weighted blanket.

Camilla stepped forward, yanking the letter from my hand without hesitation.

My dad's voice cut through the silence, low and furious. "Motherfucker."

I couldn't find my voice. My throat locked up. My heart punched against my ribs, screaming warnings only I could hear.

I turned, my gaze darting between them—my dad, my mom, Camilla. They all looked the same.

Shaken. Angry. Terrified.

And just like that, I knew.

This wasn't paranoia.

This was real.

And I wasn't safe. They didn't know everything—not even close. But they knew enough to be scared.

And so was I.

Because Nathan was right.

I had been lying to myself. Pretending that I was fine. Pretending that I was still in control.

But Andrew wasn't just a chapter I'd closed. He was the monster under the bed that had followed me into the light.

If I stayed with him, I wouldn't have survived.

And now that he was back, he wasn't just watching me. He was hunting me.

He wouldn't stop until he had me again. Or until someone got hurt trying to protect me.

I looked back at the man still standing silently at my side. His posture was calm, but there was steel in his eyes.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

He met my gaze, his tone steady. "Koa Wolfe."

I nodded, finally letting out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Okay, Koa."

It wasn't an agreement. Not really.

But it was surrender.

Not because I was weak—

Because I was done pretending, I didn't need protection.

Even if I hated everything it meant.

Even if it reminded me I was still running.

Koa gave a single nod, no judgment in his eyes, no questions. Just quiet understanding.

And in that moment, I realized this wasn't about losing freedom.

It was about surviving long enough to take it back.

A knock on the door made us all jump. A stagehand poked his head in. "Two minutes, Mylah."

I turned to the mirror again, my reflection staring back. My curls framed my face, lips painted, outfit perfect.

I didn't feel like a girl about to give an interview.

I felt like a girl still crawling out of the fire.

But this time, at least I wasn't alone.

...🏀...

A yawn escaped my lips as we rolled down the familiar highway. The hum of the armored SUV was pulling me towards sleep while the tinted windows blurred the world into smears of color—green trees, red taillights, blue sky. It all felt distant, like I was watching someone else's life pass me by.

I leaned my head against the glass, the coolness biting at my skin. My curls spilled over my shoulder, still damp from the early morning rush to leave New York and hopping on a red eye to get back to Tree Hill so I could make it on time. It was mandatory that today all seniors meet with Ms. Williams, the guidance counselor, to talk about our future plans.

It wasn't optional.

My body ached with exhaustion—jet lag and also from the nonstop running from the past two weeks of performances and interviews in New York, Paris, London, and then back to New York. Sleep deprivation was clouding my head and if I could skip school, I totally would.

The radio crackled through the silence of the SUV.

"Yo, what's up, 106 Nation?! It's your boy Terrence J—"

"—and Rocsi! And yesterday we had someone really special in the building, y'all. This girl has been all over your radios, your TVs, and she even opened for Queen Bey herself! Give it up right now for the rising star—MYLAH EVANS!"

"Mylah, you've had a wild last six months. You were on tour all summer with the queen herself and you are about to drop your debut album 𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑵 at the end of this month. Tell us—how are you feeling right now?"

I leaned forward over the bench, and turned the volume down, letting silence return.

Turning to outside, I pretending that I couldn't feel the weight of my dad's stare. He sat across from me in the backseat while Koa sat in the front passenger seat, eyes trained on the road, jaw locked like he could feel the tension in the air thickening by the second.

However, my dad shattered it.

"I should've done better," my dad said.

I didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared at the passing trees like maybe I hadn't heard him right.

"You were right," he breathed. "Back in the dressing room...when you looked at me like I was a stranger. I've been so wrapped up in basketball...in Alex's future...in beating Dan...I didn't even see you."

He's...apologizing.

My dad never apologizes.

"I didn't see you hurting. I didn't see what Andrew was doing to you. I should've. I should've known, Lala."

My breath hitched at the sound of the nickname. I hadn't heard it in years. Not since I was small enough to sit on his lap after dance recitals, my hair curled, eyes wide with innocence.

"I should've been just as proud of your singing and dancing as I was when Alex picked up a ball. I should've been there. I should've asked questions. Watched closer. Protected you."

His voice broke slightly, and that was what finally made me turn.

He reached across the space between us, took my hand gently in his. His grip was warm, grounding. My eyes met his, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't look like Matthew Evans, the former NBA basketball legend. He looked like my dad.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "And I know that won't fix it. But I'll spend the rest of my life making you a priority. Because you don't just deserve that—you've always been it. I just didn't see it until now."

My throat tightened, a burn rising behind my eyes.

I didn't even try to stop the tears.

They slid down my cheeks one after another, and I leaned forward, burying my face into his chest. His arms wrapped around me, and I clung to him like the little girl I used to be, like the daughter who had spent too long pretending she didn't need her dad to see her.

But I did.

God, I did.

I cried into his shirt, my body shaking from the weight of everything I'd been carrying—grief, guilt, fear, the ache of feeling invisible. He held me through it, rubbing slow circles on my back like he used to after nightmares when I was just a little girl.

When I finally pulled away, I wiped under my eyes with the back of my hand, breath shaky.

"I love you, Lala," he whispered.

I leaned into his shoulder, letting my head rest there, warm and safe and steady.

"I love you too, Dad."

The SUV rolled quietly on, and for the first time in a long time, the silence didn't feel suffocating.

It felt like peace.

Like being seen.

Like maybe I wasn't alone in this anymore.

...🏀...

"Fuck me."

I groaned, staring out at the lawns of Tree Hill High filled with paparazzi with their cameras flashing snapping at the SUV. A slow, tired sigh escaped me because I didn't want to deal with them today.

"Let's go," Koa said, his voice even but clipped, pulling open the door.

I grabbed my bag from the floor, slinging it on my shoulder, and grabbing Koa's hand just as my dad said, "Keep her safe."

Koa nodded. "I'll guard her with my life, sir."

He pulled out of the car, one hand out in front of him blocking the paparazzi getting too close and a hand wrapped around my back pulling me close into his chest. Koa was pulling us through the chaos and, honestly, I probably wouldn't make it through if it weren't for him.

Flashes popped like lightning and voices shouted, disorienting me.

"Mylah over here!"

"Who's the guy?"

"Are you single?"

"Is Beautiful Tragic about a special someone in your life?"

Like always, I never answered them. Instead, I kept my eyes down and followed Koa's lead. He didn't flinch, didn't slow—just pushed through the crowd with calm precision until we were inside.

Once the doors slammed shut behind us, silencing the shouting and blocking the flashing lights, did I breathe again.

I headed down the hallways as the familiar scent of floor wax and cheap perfume filled my nose. With Koa walking beside me, his boots echoing on the tile, I felt like I was on display. I could feel everyone's eyes on us—teachers, students, people who avoided me or only talked to me because I was Nathan's girlfriend or Brooke's best friend were now watching me like they couldn't believe that I was there. Which told me that everyone had seen the SNL performance and The Tonight Show interview.

Great.

I guess it was wishful thinking that I could keep my other life being a rising pop star a secret. Honestly, after everyone treating me the same after the summer and no paparazzi found where I went to school...I really thought I could.

It's only seven more months, Mylah. You can do it.

I kept walking through the lockers, doors slamming, and as the whispers followed me. I never looked at them once.

When we reached the door to the guidance office, Koa slowed. "I'll be out here."

I nodded, forcing a tight smile. "Okay."

He just gave a small nod and leaned against the wall, arms folded. Scanning. Watching.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

"Mylah. It's good to see you." Ms. Williams greeted glancing up from her desk smiling at me warmly.

I gave her smile before dropping into the seat across from her, my shoulders tense. "You too."

She folded her hands, studying me. "I saw you on SNL. My daughter just can't stop asking when I see you if she can have your autograph.

I crossed my legs. "Um, sure."

Ms. Williams beamed at me and pulled out a small pink book. I grabbed it and flipped through and quickly realized that it must have been her daughters as it was filled with other autographs like Mariah Carey and Kelly Clarkson. Pulling out the pink pen from the side, I signed my name on the paper just after Beyoncé.

I handed it back to her and settle back into the chair just as Ms. Williams flipped open the folder in front of her. "So, let's talk about college. Have you considered which school you'd like to attend?"

My eyes drifted toward the window where the sky was a perfect blue and shrugged. "I don't know."

She smiled kindly, though I caught a flicker of concern behind her glasses. "That's okay. You've had...a lot going on. I mean, magazine spreads, late-night talk shows, your album—𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑵—releasing soon. But I still have to ask...have you thought about a plan B?"

My stomach clenched, and I opened my mouth to deflect. To throw something, anything, at her. But something else slipped out before I could stop it. "Julliard."

Ms. Williams paused, surprised, but her smile widened. "That's a beautiful goal. You're an amazing dancer, Mylah. Don't think I missed those showcases over the years."

I stared at my hands in my lap. I hadn't said the word Juilliard out loud in so long, it almost didn't feel real. But the minute it left my mouth, I knew I meant it. Dance had always been my first language—before singing, before the spotlight.

It was where I found silence.

"And a backup?" she asked gently.

I hesitated.

Nathan's name echoed in the back of my mind before I even realized I was thinking of him.

The way he used to pull me into his lap between classes.

The way he'd write my initials next to his jersey number in the corner of his notebook like we were still thirteen.

The way he said "I love you" like it was something I never had to earn.

"Duke," I said, voice softer.

She looked up, surprised. "Duke?"

I nodded. "Yeah. My dad wants me close. And...there's someone I'd want to be close to, too."

She didn't press further, just scribbled a note in her file and gave me a smile I wasn't expecting. "Those are great options, Mylah. Real ones. No matter what happens with the album, the press, the noise...just make sure you choose what you want. You've got something special. Don't let the world decide who you're going to be."

I blinked, the weight of her words settling in my chest.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I could choose for myself.

Not for Andrew.

Not to survive.

Not to escape.

Just...for me.

Ms. Williams closed the file. "You're all set. Let me know if you need help with applications."

I stood slowly, nodding. "Thanks."

As I opened the door and barely closed the door behind me when I heard my best friend's voice, "Back the fuck up, Rambo!"

I blinked and turned my head. I spotted Brooke squared off near the lockers, arms crossed tight under her chest, chin tilted like she was about to swing.

Across from her stood Koa. Unbothered. Like he had just been insulted by a puppy, not Brooke Penelope Davis, a girl with a pink leather purse who was just as crazy as me.

"One, I'm doing my job," Koa replied dryly, "and two, you're in my space, Sparkplug."

Brooke's head snapped in my direction, eyes wide with indignation. "Did he just call me a fucking Sparkplug?"

"I didn't stutter," Koa shot back, deadpan.

I blinked again, stuck halfway between amusement and exhaustion.

My lips twitched, and it took everything in me to not laugh at them. Because I knew Brooke would just hit me with her purse and honestly, I liked not having a bruise on my arm for the rest of the day.

So I decided to lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Brooke practically smoked from her ears and Koa stood there completely unbothered, with his arms behind his back like some military statue.

"So I see you two have met." I said swallowed back the laugh that wanted to crawl its way out of my throat. "Brooke, this is my bodyguard. Koa, this is my best friend, Brooke."

"Not a pleasure," Brook scoffed, glaring at him before turning to me. "Your babysitter thinks he's funny."

I shrugged. "He is kinda funny."

Brooke narrowed her glare on me and I couldn't help but turned to Koa and he smirked.

And for the first time all day, I felt something crack inside me.

Not pain.

Not fear.

A laugh. Small. But it was real.

"I can't believe you're laughing at me."

...🏀...

I dropped my cheer bag against the wall near the bleachers and exhaled. My white shoes moved softly against the old hardwood as I started pulling my curls into a high ponytail, my fingers moving automatically.

But then a voice—his voice reached my ears, sharp and pleading.

"Coach, my dad was there. He knew I was skipping."

I froze mid-tie and whirled around, finding Nathan tense standing in front of Whitey, hands clenched at his sides, jaw locked. His jersey was already half-drenched in warm-up sweat, but it wasn't that no Nathan was pissed.

Whitey wasn't budging. "I didn't. And you know the policy—miss school, miss the game."

Nathan's mouth parted like he wanted to argue again, but Whitey cut him off.

"No exceptions." He turned toward the bench. "Andrew, you're in."

My stomach flipped.

Andrew stood, all smug confidence as he pulled off his sweatshirt and strutted toward the court like he owned it. His voice slithered across the gym.

"I guess you have bigger daddy issues than I thought," he smirked at Nathan.

Nathan lunged forward half a step. Lucas and Alex caught him by the arms.

I sucked in a breath, tying the final loop of my ponytail.

"That your boyfriend?" Koa asked casually beside me, nodding toward Nathan.

Nathan, who was currently turning his glare on Koa like he wanted him six feet under.

I sighed. "It's complicated."

Koa followed my gaze to Andrew and scoffed. "Well, I'd love nothing more than to beat the hell out of that little shithead."

He looked back at Nathan, eyebrows raised. "But I think your boy over there wants to kill me just for standing next to you."

"He's giving me space to figure...nevermind it doesn't matter," I muttered, shaking out my arms before dropping into a stretch with the rest of the squad.

The buzzer blared overhead just as the crowd roared. The game had started.

And from the second the ball left the ref's hands, I could tell this wasn't going to be pretty.

The other team was faster. Sharper. Dirtier. They weren't just out to win—they were out to humiliate.

The Ravens struggled from the start. Andrew kept hogging the ball and throwing wild passes. Lucas was working overtime, trying to clean up every mess left behind.

𝟑𝟒-𝟑𝟕

I stood on the sidelines, shaking my blue and white pom-poms with forced energy. Every time Lucas made a shot, we cheered. But my eyes kept drifting—back to the bench, to Nathan.

He sat at the end of the row, bouncing his knee so hard the bench vibrated beneath him. His jaw clenched with every missed shot, every blown defense.

I knew that look.

Basketball was in his blood. It was the one place he felt untouchable. Just like singing and even dance—before Andrew—was for me.

To watch it unfold without him? It was eating him alive.

𝟕𝟒-𝟕𝟓

The fourth quarter was down to the wire. The other team had just taken the lead with thirty seconds left on the clock.

I caught Nathan's eyes across the court. He wasn't watching the game. He was watching me.

For a second, everything else faded.

I didn't know what that look meant.

Maybe he didn't either.

But it made my heart ache.

Lucas intercepted a pass.

The gym exploded.

I held my breath.

Lucas dribbled fast, weaving through two defenders, his feet a blur. Number 42 tried to block him.

He spun. Dodged.

Jumped.

Time slowed as Lucas soared toward the basket, his fingers brushing the ball off the tips as he dunked it clean through the hoop.

𝟕𝟔-𝟕𝟓

The buzzer screamed.

The crowd erupted, jumping to their feet in a wave of thunderous cheers.

My pulse hammered as I watched Lucas lifted high onto his teammates' shoulders, sweat gleaming on his skin, his grin stretched wide with hard-earned triumph.

We had won.

Barely.

But we won.

The crowd continued to thunder around me, but it all sounded hollow. Like someone turned the volume down on the world and left me sitting inside the echo. My poms hung at my sides, the sparkly fringe damp against my wrists, but I didn't cheer. I couldn't.

Not when my eyes stayed locked across the court.

Nathan hadn't moved.

Not even an inch.

He sat stiffly at the edge of the bench, posture locked tight like he was carved from stone, unmoving as Lucas soaked in the roar of the crowd from atop his teammates' shoulders—his teammates. The same team Nathan should've been leading out there tonight.

But he wasn't.

And even through the blur of pom-poms, echoing chants, and the high of victory buzzing through the gym like static, I saw it—clear as day.

The way his eyes followed them.

The hollow ache in them.

A quiet flicker of heartbreak.

And God, I felt it. Right down to my bones.

I kept cheering—smiling when I was supposed to, clapping on cue—but it was automatic, empty. I wasn't really there. Not fully.

Because my heart?

It was still stuck on that bench beside him.

The energy slowly began to drain from the gym, the crowd trickling out in waves. But I stayed rooted to the floor, unable to look away from him—wishing I could will his pain away... and terrified I might be part of it.

The gym lights hummed overhead. Players disappeared into the locker room, parents filtered out, and the hardwood started to breathe again under fewer feet.

I adjusted the waistband of my cheer skirt and stood in the middle of the court, waiting.

That was when I spotted him.

Dan.

Swaggering toward me like this gym still belonged to him.

Koa shifted beside me, already bracing to intercept. I stepped forward and lifted a hand, planting it on his chest.

"Let me," I muttered.

Koa didn't move, but didn't stop me, either. His eyes never left Dan.

Dan smiled like it didn't belong to someone who almost burned his life to the ground. "You look calm for someone who probably knows more than she's letting on."

My jaw twitched. "About what?"

"The fire."

Not this again.

I took a breath, slow and deliberate, and lifted my chin. "Instead of playing detective, maybe you should try being a father for once."

His smile thinned.

"I mean it," I said. "You were given a second chance, Dan. How about using it to actually connect with your sons instead of chasing ghosts?"

Dan's brows pulled together, a flash of something—surprise, maybe—crossing his face. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Nathan might act like he doesn't need you, but that's not the truth," I said. "He missed this game today because of you. Not because of the absence. Because he was avoiding you."

Dan didn't speak.

I pushed on. "Maybe if you weren't so busy pushing everyone away, he'd still let you in."

For a second, I expected him to bark back. Scoff. Laugh. Do something that reminded me why my dad hated him so much and why I should when I all I felt was...pity for him.

But instead...

He just nodded.

Once.

"You're right," he said, voice low, and turned without another word.

I stared after him, stunned.

Koa leaned in close. "That man sounds like a piece of work."

I scoffed. "You don't even know the half of it."

I grabbed my bag off the bleachers and slung it over my shoulder. My sneakers squeaked against the court as I moved toward the gym exit.

But I felt it—the prickling heat of a gaze on my back.

I turned my head, and my breath caught.

Nathan.

Standing beside Lucas and Alex now, his pullover rumpled, hair a little messy from dragging his hand through it too many times. He wasn't talking. Just watching me.

His eyes didn't look away, even when Koa placed a protective hand on the small of my back and guided me gently toward the doors.

And that hand?

I didn't even register it fully until Nathan's jaw clenched.

Not in anger.

Something deeper.

Worse.

Like losing the game wasn't the only thing that left him feeling gutted tonight.

Like maybe...he'd lost me, too.

And as much as I didn't want it to...

That broke something inside me.

Because as complicated as things were between us, as messy and raw and twisted in legacy as our story had become...

I still wasn't sure if I could walk away from him.

But I kept walking anyway.

...🏀...

I shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, a sob clawing its way out of my chest. My lungs ached like I'd been underwater too long, and for a second, I forgot where I was—my sheets tangled around me, moonlight slivering through the curtains, thunder rumbling outside.

But I was here.

Not there.

Not in that damn closet, with splinters digging into my knees and the sharp metal lock slicing into my wrists every time I pulled too hard. Not with Andrew's voice on the other side of the door, calm and low, like he wasn't a monster in disguise.

I'm safe.

I'm safe.

I'm safe.

The room was dark but not silent as thunder rolled through the night and lightning flashed beyond my window. I turned to Leila's crib, my heart seizing when I found it empty. But then I remembered. My parents had taken her downstairs to sleep in the guest room after the storm rolled in, since my nightmares were becoming hard to conceal for her anymore.

I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes, grounding myself. The necklace Nathan gave me sat warm against my skin. I moved my hands, one going to clutch the moonstone while the other placed against my chest, trying to stop my racing heart.

I couldn't keep doing this. Letting Andrew live in my head like he still owned it.

I needed to tell someone.

Nathan. I need to tell him.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I shoved my feet into sneakers and pulled on the first off-shoulder sweater I saw, not bothering to change out of my shorts. I threw open my balcony doors, the wind nearly knocking me back, and slipped into the icy rain.

The storm kissed me with cold raindrops, the wind sweeping through my curls as I climbed down the lattice like I'd done a hundred times before—before Andrew.

Except this time I wasn't running away—I was running toward something.

...🏀...

Driving in a storm after martial law had been declared was stupid fucking idea.

Borderline suicidal.

But when it came to Nathan, logic didn't stand a chance. I just needed to get to him.

The storm roared louder the farther I got from the house. Sheets of rain slapped against my windshield, wipers dragging back and forth like they were struggling to keep up. Every few seconds, lightning lit up the road ahead, sharp and violent, turning shadows into threats.

I leaned forward, fingers locked around the steering wheel, knuckles white. I was maybe five minutes from Nathan's when a sudden flash split the sky—too close.

A crack.

A boom.

Then—

SNAP.

The tree didn't fall. It crashed.

Wood splintered. Bark exploded. I barely had time to register what was happening before it came down across the road right in front of me.

Shit. 

I slammed the brakes, tires screeching across the soaked pavement. My body jerked forward in my seatbelt, heart thundering against my ribs. The front of the car stopped just short of the mangled trunk now blocking the road.

I froze. Breath caught somewhere between panic and disbelief.

Rain hammered the roof like it was trying to rip through.

My heart wouldn't slow down. I lowered my head to the steering wheel, forehead pressing into the cool leather as I sucked in a shaky breath. Then another.

In. 

Out. 

Again.

Once my chest stopped heaving, I lifted my head and shifted the car into drive.

Foot on the gas.

Nothing.

The engine sputtered once—twice—then died with a final choking cough.

I stared at the dash.

Oh, you got to be kidding me.

"Come on," I whispered, turning the key. "Please—"

Nothing.

I let out a long breath, sagging back until my head hit the headrest. But I didn't cry.

Not tonight.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, threw open the door, and braced myself before I ran into the storm. The rain drenched me in seconds, soaking through my clothes, my hair clinging to my face and neck. But I kept going because nothing was going to stop me from getting to Nathan.

...🏀...

By the time I reached Nathan's house, I was shivering, soaked to the bone, and out of breath. My hands shook as I knocked on the door, lightning flashing again above me.

It opened before I could knock a second time.

The door swung open. "Mylah?"

"Nathan," I breathed.

His blue eyes widened in alarm. "Mylah, what the hell—" He reached out, pulling me inside without waiting for an explanation. "Aren't the roads all closed? It's like marital law or something."

"My car...it died." I said through trembled lips.

"You walked here in this?"

"I ran," I corrected, teeth chattering.

Nathan grabbed a blanket from the couch and draped it around my shoulders, pulling me close, his arms wrapping me like they'd been waiting for this moment.

I didn't wait for him to open his mouth, knowing I would lose my nerves, and blurted, "I missed you." My voice trembling from the cold. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get it. But I know now—I know what you were trying to do."

He pressed the blanket tighter around me, brushing a damp curl from my cheek. "I missed you too."

Nathan led me to the couch, his arms never leaving me, like he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go. The lights flickered once...then died.

A second later, the power cut completely.

I let out a nervous laugh. "Is that a good sign or a bad one?"

Nathan sighed and made sure I was sitting on the couch bundled before moving around the room lighting candles, the soft flicker of flames casting golden shadows across his face as he returned to the couch beside me.

I was still shaking. But not from the rain anymore. My pulse was racing, but I knew what I needed to say.

I turned to him. "I need to tell you something and I need you to not interrupt me. Please."

He nodded once. "Okay."

Steeling my nerves, I opened my mouth and told him...everything. Every horrifying detail.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

"Andrew wasn't always a monster," I started, voice rough, eyes staring into the candlelight. "At first, he gave me attention. Real attention. My parents were always so focused on Alex and basketball, and Andrew...he noticed me."

I swallowed.

"And then the attention turned into obsession—control. The first time he hit me, it was after a stupid fight. I blacked out. Woke up to him crying, apologizing, swearing he'd never do it again. Honestly, I knew I shouldn't have, but maybe a small part of me believed him—his lies that it would be the only time. So I forgave him."

I kept going. Because if I stopped, I wouldn't start again.

"But the beatings got worse. Anytime I said the wrong thing. Anytime someone looked at me too long. He threw me into walls. Smashed vases over my head. Locked me in closets for days. No food. Just silence. Until he needed me again."

Nathan's breath caught beside me, but he stayed silent like I asked.

"Three months in, I tried to run. He—" My voice cracked. I pressed a hand to my chest. "He raped me. Told me not to scream. And I didn't because I was so fucking scared. It was like he stole my voice. I didn't speak for two months after that. Until it happened again. And again. And again. Each time he took a piece of me until I was a shell of myself."

Nathan's hand trembled as he held onto mine.

My voice trembled. "I begged someone—anyone—to notice. My parents were blind. His stepdad was too busy campaigning. His mom? She knew. She told me to keep her son happy. That no one would believe me. Because I was asking for it and why couldn't I be a good girl for her son when all he wanted—all he ever wanted was me. So I stayed silence."

My throat burned.

"But then I found out I was pregnant. And something inside me snapped. Just enough to fight back. Even when he held me underwater, trying to drown me...I fought. I ran that night. And I didn't stop running until I got home."

𝐓𝐖: 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

I finally looked up at him. His breathing had turned sharp, ragged.

"I had Leila. My dad was disappointed, but I didn't care. She saved me. Even after everything...I was still a shell of myself. I was just trying to survive one day after another."

A pause.

"But then I met you."

Nathan blinked.

"You brought life back into me. I thought if I just kept moving, kept pretending, it would all fade. But it didn't. It never does. I still see his face. I still hear his voice." My voice cracked, and I swallowed, blinking back the tears in my eyes. "You told me to stop lying to myself and you were right. This story—my story I have never told anyone before. I guess I was afraid that they would leave—that you would leave. But Nathan, if there's even a part of you that still wants me...even if it's small..."

Nathan was trembling, and I held my breath when he stood.

"I'm going to kill him," he growled and turned toward the door.

I dropped the blanket and bolted after him because I wouldn't let him walk away, not again.

My feet skidding on the hardwood. "Nathan!"

He didn't stop.

So I screamed again into the storm. "Nathan, stop!"

He turned slowly, standing in the middle of his driveway, rain cascading over him, soaking him, plastering his hair to his forehead. But it was his wild eyes made me pause.

"You need to go inside," he said, voice tight.

I shook my head and grabbed his arm. "No."

"Mylah—"

I stepped closer. "No. I'm not letting you walk away again."

"Mylah—"

"All I want is you!" I shouted over the storm. "That's it! Just you. No more running. No more hiding. Just you."

He stared at me, stunned. "Are you sure, Mylah?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I've never been more sure."

He crashed his mouth to mine—and this time, it wasn't soft or unsure. It was desperate. Unapologetic. Like every word he hadn't said was pouring out through the way he kissed me. Like he'd been holding himself back until now and finally couldn't anymore.

I gasped, but it was swallowed by him, and my fingers fisted the fabric of his damp shirt as I pulled him closer, needing more. Needing him. My arms wrapped tightly around his neck, anchoring me as if we could never come undone.

The rain came down in sheets, soaking through my sweater, my hair, my skin—but I didn't feel cold. Not with his hands on me, not with his lips moving over mine like he knew this might be the last time or the only time or the beginning of everything.

He spun me gently, pressing me back against his truck. The cold metal kissed my spine, but I didn't flinch. I welcomed it. Every contrast—his heat, the chill of the night, the wind whipping around us—only made this moment more real.

Our mouths moved in sync, chaotic and hungry, like we were trying to breathe through each other. My pulse thrummed beneath my skin, and I couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline or just him. His hands cupped my face, then slid down, fingers threading through my soaked curls before his grip tightened around my waist, keeping me grounded, keeping me his.

I whimpered into his mouth when he deepened the kiss, and he groaned like he'd been starved for the sound.

Time didn't exist in that storm.

It was just us. Me and him. And everything we'd been through crashing down in the middle of thunder and rain.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn't because he wanted to. His lips hovered just above mine, our breath mingling, ragged and warm.

His eyes locked onto mine—stormy, wild, but there was something soft beneath it. Something aching. "I've wanted to do that since the second you showed up at my door."

I touched his cheek, my thumb brushing along the wet line of his jaw. His forehead leaned into mine for a beat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt seen. Completely.

Without a word, his hand found mine and held it tight.

He tugged gently, pulling me from the truck. We ran, fingers still laced, through the downpour and into the house.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃...𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊

Once I was in inside Nathan slammed my back against the door and his lips were back on mine, devouring me. His fingers tangled through my hair, cradling the back of my head, angling me for a deeper kiss, and my lips parted eagerly.

Our tongues collide, and the kiss is hot and hard and completely out of our control. His hips pin mine to the door, a jolt of pure lust shoots through me straight to my core eliciting a whimper from me.

I gasped as he takes my ass in his hands and hauls me against his hips, my back racking against the wooden door behind me. My legs wrap around his waist and my hands find its way into his hair, pulling and I smile against his mouth as he groans. My sweater rises with the motion, but I don't care, not with the all-consuming way that Nathan was kissing me. The caress of his mouth and the strokes of his tongue were stealing every thought, and all I could focus on was this kiss, this boy.

Mine.

Nathan Scott is mine.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine as we were trying to catch our breath. "Mylah..." His voice strained. "I'm trying to be respectful and I need you to tell me if you want this or—"

I didn't let him finish. I grabbed the collar of my soaked sweater, pulling it off in one fluid motion, leaving me in my black lacy bra. Nathan's eyes darkened, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Nathan, I love you, but fuck being respectful." I mumbled against his lips, and I could see the control slowly slipping in his eyes. "This is my choice for the first time, and all I want is you."

His lips crashed against mine. I kissed him back with the same hunger, moving my lips against his.

Heat floods my body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of my body on fire as his mouth slides down my neck, stealing my breath from his sensual assault that made me moan.

"Just tell me to stop," Nathan said against my throat, and then we're moving.

Wood creaked and doors clicked before he sat on his bed with me in his arms, straddling him. He kissed along my jaw, making his way to my ear. Nathan bites the lobe and my core liquefies and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as I moaned.

Nathan moved his fingers until it was on the edge of one strap of my bra delicately. He ran his fingers slowly along the strap just as he pulled back from my neck before pushing it down softly. He did the same with the other strap, and it left me breathless.

I tugged at his soaked shirt, pulling it off of him, needing nothing between us. My hands ran over his chest, feeling the muscles tense underneath my touch like I could make him come undone with a single touch.

I reached behind and unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the ground.

"You're so fucking beautiful." His thumbs brushed delicately under my breast and I arched against his touch.

I kissed him. The kiss was desperate and carnal, like we couldn't get enough of each other. I melt against him, matching every thrust of his tongue with mine, not able to get enough.

His fingers slide inside my shorts under my underwear and stroke my slickened core, and a moan tumbled out of my lips. My pleasure tightened in my core as his fingers touched and tease. I dig my nails into his shoulder, my back arching as he makes tighter circles against my swollen clit.

Pleasure shudders through me. "Nathan."

It was all I could say as my skin flushes and I whimper against his mouth just as he slide one finger inside me. My muscle clenched around him and he slowly works in a second one.

"I need you to look at me, baby." His voice drops as a growl rumbled from his chest.

My eyes fluttered, meeting his as my hips roll, riding his thrusting fingers. He curls them against my inner walls and I gasped my thighs locking around his gray sweatpants clad hips. And when he uses his thumb to stroke my clit, the friction and pleasure pushed me over the edge.

I cry and he swallows it with his mouth, kissing me as his tongue matches the strokes of his fingers inside me. My back arches just as my orgasm crashes over me in mind blowing bliss.

"Nathan," I moaned as my pleasure ebbed and flares.

Nathan flipped us until my back was flush against his bed and he trailed kisses down my neck to my breasts. I arched against him as he slipped one of my breasts into his mouth before going to the other. His hands grabbed the band of my shorts and ripped it with my underwear in one fluid motion, his mouth never leaving my breasts.

Moving back to my neck, he worked his sweatpants and boxers off while a whimper left me from Nathan, biting where my shoulder and neck meets before soothing it with his tongue.

"Please." I begged as Nathan rubbed the head of his cock rubs against my clit. My eyes snap to his and I can see hunger in the depth of blue eyes along with the tense line of his body.

Nathan guides the head of his cock to my entrance, never letting his gaze waver from mine. He pushes in that first tight inch of me and my breath left me at the fit, the stretch. My eyes roll into the back of my head as pleasure racks through my body.

"More," I pleaded, my nails digging into his shoulder blades, trying to push him to give another inch.

His control slips, and he slams into me in one hard thrust.

I moan and my eyes roll to the back of my head. He was so deep that I could feel him everywhere.

"Tell me you're okay." Nathan's voice was strained and his fingers were digging into my hips.

"I'm okay." I gasped just as he started moving. " Oh, my god."

Nathan slams into me again and, as he sets a steady but brutal pace, his mouth sliding down my neck. My fingers curl into the sheets as pleasure steals my breath and my hips roll, meeting Nathan's.

A loud moan escapes me just as Nathan claims my mouth again. My hands find their way back to his back and I dug in my nails, leaving my mark on him just as I feel another orgasm building.

I broke the kiss, moaning as pleasure takes me in waves, rolling through me again and again until all I could do was dig my nails into his back, riding out into blissful oblivion.

"So fucking beautiful." He breathed.

The second I came down, his rhythm breaks and he grips my thigh, angling himself deeper. I rock my hips up to meet his as sweat beaded against our skin and I watch him come unraveled.

It was fascinating watching Nathan come undone, and that I was the one who could snap that thread of control that he had.

Nathan groaned as he thrust once. Twice.

On the third, a long throaty groan escaped him, then he shuddered within me.

I don't know how much time passed, but we lay there, our chest heaving as lightning illuminated the darkness. But Nathan wrapped me in his arms, pulling us up on the bed before pulling a cover over us, blanketing us in its warmth.

My cheek rest against his chest as exhausted seeped into my bones and I closed my eyes. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt safe in someone else's arms where I could let my guard down and give them all of me without fearing for my life.

Nathan brush a curl from my cheek. "I love you,"

A tired small smile spread across my lips. "I love you too,"

 
...🏀...

𝐀/𝐍: NYLAH ARE BACK TOGETHER!!!

Honestly, I think ALOT of y'all were waiting on this chapter and it took me a while to figure out how I wanted to write Nylah first smut scene but I'm satisfied with how it turned out. I think I ate but y'all let me know 😂 .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 

Had to get this update out for you, girl 😉.

Now, this chapter is literally one of my longest I think in this book. But that's because I needed to introduce a new character—Koa—and honestly I love him and I think you guys will too. Just another protector to add to Mylah's list. Also, we can't forget that I had to get through the angst between Nathan and Mylah. Not to mention, you guys finally know exactly what Andrew did to Mylah...well, not in great detail because I'm saving that for oh I don't know possibly a trial down the road 👀. 

For those asking, the rewrite should be done by chapter 29. Everything after chapter 29 will be new stuff that I haven't written before. So if you were an OG and here from the beginning I stopped originally after Nathan proposed (that's not a spoiler FYI because like this man is down bad for his girl who you can't tell from the spicy scene above). 

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I had some much fun writing it (AKA Koa and Brooke fighting literally made me laugh). 

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: How do we feel about the book so far? How are feeling about Koa? What about Mylah's dad apologizing (literally shocked me that he apologized)? Are you excited that Andrew going to be killed off soon? Are we excited for book two? Do you want more smut scenes? What else are you guys looking forward to or wanting in the rest of the act???

-𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘