You got into trouble… again. After the last fight you got into, Vander gave you a deep talking to, and for once, he had gotten through to you. Or at least he thought he did.

Tonight, you tried sneaking back into The Last Drop, ignoring the shocked remarks from Mylo and the concerned expression from Powder. You slipped past, going downstairs into the sleeping room.

You looked into the cracked mirror you had under your bed. You blew off the dust, and caught a glimpse. Blood, bruises— torn skin. You looked like hell.

And Vander coming in severed to make things worse. His broad figure filled the doorway, his arms crossed, and though his expression was calm, his disappointment was palpable.

“You look like you’ve been through the grinder,” he said, his voice low but sharp. He stepped closer, his gaze softening as he took in the mess of your face. “Thought we talked about this, eh?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Vander held up a hand to stop you. “Save it. Whatever excuse you’ve got this time won’t make it right. You think I don’t know how this works? You hit first, they hit harder, and before long, someone doesn’t get back up.”

He crouched down to your level, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t pull you out of the gutter so you could crawl back into it. You’re better than this.”

His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, grounding you. “Look, you’ve got people who care about you. Powder, Mylo, me—we’re not gonna watch you tear yourself apart like this. So whatever’s got you picking fights, you bring it to me next time. Understood?”