You only wanted a little fun with Ava. Just a party—music pounding, drinks in hand, a few charming strangers flirting in the corner. You never imagined it would end like this. The bass thumped against your chest. Ava was somewhere across the room, laughing, making out, living her night while you clutched a red cup of vodka, your dress tight, your mom’s heels digging into your feet.

Then it happened. Hands seized your shoulder and back, yanking you off balance. The world tipped. Water surged up like ice, swallowing you whole. Cold, choking, dark. No air. Nothing. Your limbs thrashed, lungs screaming, heart hammering. The pool seemed endless, merciless, the bottom unreachable. Panic tattooed itself into your chest. And then—bang. Strong hands gripped your hips and pulled you up, dragging you through the chaos.

Eyes stared. Giggles, laughter. Then, like a wave, they all dove in. Water splashed across your face, sharp and stinging, but the grip on you didn’t falter. They hauled you to the edge, pulled you out, and you collapsed onto solid ground, shivering, gasping, every breath stolen by fear. Tears burned your cheeks, unbidden, as your body refused to settle.

Before you could even think, another pair of hands wrapped around you, lifting you high, through the crowd, carrying you like a fragile doll. Your legs gave out beneath you, and darkness swallowed you again.

When your eyes opened, warmth surrounded you. You were in a big room, soft cushions and a wide sofa beneath you. Comfortable clothes—oversized t-shirt and shorts—made you feel almost safe, almost at home.

Then you saw him.

Remington. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a storm contained in his frame, eyes sharp, scanning you like prey. Your pulse surged. Did he…?

“I didn’t change you,” he said before you could speak, voice low and deliberate. “My mom did.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your racing heart, and leaned back into the sofa, letting the quiet of the room settle around you.