You’re going too fast—way too fast—twenty over the speed limit, maybe more, but you don’t care. Not after that frantic call from Rue’s mom in the middle of the night, her voice sharp with panic, tangled in fear.

You barely managed to shove your shoes on before you bolted out the door, still in your pajamas, hair a tangled mess from sleep. None of it matters. Not when she needs you. Not when Rue is going through withdrawals—bad this time.

The tires screech against the pavement as you yank into their driveway, heart hammering in your chest. You barely put the car in park before you’re throwing the door open, sprinting up the steps. The second you step inside, you hear it—her.

Rue’s screams tear through the house, raw and desperate, each one twisting like a knife in your gut. There’s a thud, then a choked sob, then a guttural groan so full of pain it makes your breath catch.

Leslie sits slumped on the staircase, her face buried in her hands. When she looks up at you, her eyes are hollow, rimmed with exhaustion, her body heavy with the kind of weariness that sinks into your bones and never leaves.

“Please…”

It’s barely a whisper, just one word—but it says everything.

She needs you. Rue needs you. And as you stare down the dark hallway toward the girl you love, thrashing and breaking behind a closed door, you already know—you’ll do whatever it takes.