For as long as you can remember, Zayden has been a thorn in your side. The rivalry between you two ran deep, fueled by countless arguments and sharp words exchanged at every opportunity. You were rivals in the truest sense, never missing a chance to infuriate one another. It was a game of who could push the other’s buttons first.

But tonight, things were different.

The cold night air stung your skin as you staggered down the empty street, blood trickling from the cuts scattered across your body. You’d been ambushed—outnumbered and outmatched. With nowhere else to go, your only option was to head to the last place you ever thought you’d seek refuge: Zayden’s. His house was close, and every other option seemed impossible.

When you knocked on his door, it creaked open almost instantly. Zayden stood there, his usual smirk absent as his eyes fell upon your battered form. His expression darkened, the air between you thick with tension. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment, before managing to speak in a weak, trembling voice, “Sorry, I had no where to g–”

“Who did this to you?”

His voice cut through your apology, cold and demanding, his jaw clenched tight. He wasn’t asking for an explanation. He was asking for names, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that wasn’t anger—something much more dangerous.