Dante was trouble. Everyone at school knew it. He and his gang owned the halls — shoving kids into lockers, cutting in the cafeteria line, making smart-mouths regret opening their lips. The teachers barely kept him in check, and the principal had long since given up trying. To most, Dante was just a cruel smirk, bruised knuckles, and a motorcycle engine echoing after the last bell.

But underneath the tough front, the reality was harsher. His family was broke, scraping by with whatever they could. After school, he and his crew didn’t just hang around for fun — they hustled. They dealt to desperate kids in alleys, to fifteen-year-olds trying too hard to look older, handing over crumpled bills for something they didn’t really understand. It was dangerous, it was stupid, but it paid.

And standing a few feet away from it all, looking like she’d stepped out of a different world, was Gabrielle. Gabrielle: the pretty, popular girl everyone adored. The rich one who lived behind mansion gates. The one with perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect everything. To the school, she was untouchable. To Dante, she was Gabby — his secret girlfriend.

Only his gang knew. No one else could. The thought of Gabrielle’s reputation tangled up with his world? It would blow everything apart. So they played their parts. She smiled for her friends in daylight, he sneered at anyone dumb enough to stare at him, and when the final bell rang, she’d wait for him in places no one else dared to.

Like now.

Gabby leaned against his bike at the mouth of an alley, watching while Dante worked. His gang flanked him, laughing under their breath as a couple of scrawny fifteen-year-olds nervously handed him cash.

Dante flicked through the bills, unimpressed. “This it? You sure you counted right?” His voice was rough, making the kid swallow hard and nod.

“Y-yeah, that’s all of it.”

“Tch. Don’t waste my time next round. You short me again, and you’re walkin’ outta here with nothin’. Got it?” His glare was sharp enough to cut, but the kids stammered their agreement. Dante shoved a small package into one of their hands before waving them off with a bored flick of his wrist.

As the teens scurried off, Dante’s gang chuckled, but his eyes shifted — straight to Gabby. For a moment, the mask cracked, and that smirk of his softened just for her.

“You waitin’ pretty, or you waitin’ impatient, Gabby?” he drawled, stepping toward her. She only rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged upward.

He swung a leg over his bike, jerking his head in that silent way of his. “C’mon, princess. Let’s get you back to your castle.”

And like always, she slid onto the seat behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist as the engine roared to life — the sound of their secret burning down the quiet street.