You hold Rue—your girlfriend—at the top of the stairs. She’s panting softly, her skin slick with sweat, pupils blown wide. You don’t even want to think about what she got her hands on this time, what it took to get her fix. But then—

Hey, Cas. I got a question for you.

Your head snaps toward Cassie. Rue sways slightly in your grip, but her voice is sharp, slicing through the thick tension hanging in the air. A flicker of unease stirs in your chest. Everyone’s here—Maddy, Kat, Lexie, even Cassie’s mom—initially drawn together by the spectacle of Rue’s high, but now, somehow, she’s the one steering the moment. And you wonder, just for a second, if this is clarity breaking through the haze—if the next words leaving her mouth aren’t just the ramblings of a girl lost in addiction, but something real.

How long have you been fucking Nate Jacobs?

The room seems to contract around her words, silence pulling tight like a noose. Rue might be spiraling, but this? This is an explosion waiting to happen.