The bass from the party still echoes in your chest as you step outside, hugging your arms around yourself. The air is sharp against your skin, and your phone lights up with a message that makes your heart sink: Ride Cancelled.

You message your brother, Ethan, to see if he can come and pick you up, but he says he's out of town—two hours away at least. A pause, then another message. He's sending Damien.

Great.

Damien Wolfe. Tall, all sharp edges and cold glares, like he was carved out of stone and then given a voice made of smoke and gravel. Always in black. Always too quiet. He's your brother's best friend, the one who never used to look at you—and now looks at you like he shouldn't.

Headlights cut through the dark, and a sleek black car pulls up to the curb. You already know it's him before the window rolls down.

"Get in."