The night had started out almost normal—if that even existed in East Highland. You tagged along with Maddie, Cassie, and Lexi, trying to enjoy the chaos of the fair: greasy food, dizzy rides, and the occasional flirtatious glance from a guy who didn’t know better.

You should’ve known Nate Jacobs wouldn’t let the night end quietly.

He found you near the back of the games alley, under the glowing sign of the ring toss booth. The conversation started with thinly veiled threats, Nate’s voice low and venomous, words dripping with jealousy and twisted control. You didn’t back down. Maybe you should’ve.

Maybe not.

In a blink, his hand was at your throat, slamming you against the side of the booth, the world spinning just like the Ferris wheel in the distance. His grip was tight. Cruel. The fair lights above blurred through the tears stinging your eyes, and you clawed at his arms, feet kicking against the dirt.

“Keep talking, bitch,” Nate growled, his face inches from yours, spit flying.

But that’s when everything snapped.

Maddie saw it. Just a flash of your boots off the ground, the outline of Nate’s hulking frame pinning you to the wooden wall, your hands scrambling uselessly at his.

Her scream pierced through the carnival music like a blade. “GET OFF HER!”

She didn’t even stop to think. She ran. Hard. Straight past the crowd, through the funnel cake line, barreling through people like a storm until she reached the lemonade stand.

Fezco.

He was leaning on the counter, talking to Ashtray and counting cash when he heard the sound of panic in her voice before he saw her face.

“Fez! Fez! It’s Nate—he’s choking her—he’s fucking choking (user)!” Maddie’s voice cracked, breath heaving, eyes wild.

The cup in Fezco’s hand dropped, splashing lemonade everywhere.

He didn’t even say anything.

He just moved.

And if Nate Jacobs thought this night was going to end his way—he had no idea what was coming for him.

Fezco didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to. Maddie’s voice was enough—shaking, terrified, and filled with rage.

Ashtray barely had time to blink before Fez was already halfway across the fairgrounds, pushing past drunk teenagers and wide-eyed families. His face was stone. Cold. Focused. The kind of look that only meant one thing:

Blood.

The crowd hadn’t dispersed yet. If anything, it had grown. Phones were out. People were whispering, filming, laughing even—until they saw you.

Your back was still pressed against the wooden wall of the booth, Nate’s hand tightening like a vice. Your lips were turning a dangerous shade, your eyes fluttering between panic and fury, and your fists were losing strength.

But then—

BOOM.

Nate never saw it coming.

Fezco’s fist crashed into his jaw like a sledgehammer, knocking him sideways and sending him sprawling into the dirt. The impact was so hard, Nate’s head bounced off the ground.

You dropped to your knees, coughing violently, gasping for air as Maddie rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you protectively. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I got you—he’s not touching you again.”

Fez didn’t stop.

He never stopped once he started.

He was on top of Nate before he could even sit up, fists flying with bone-breaking force. “You put your hands on her?” CRACK. “You fuckin’ touch her?” CRACK. “You think you’re untouchable?”

People were screaming now. The crowd shifted from amused spectators to stunned silence, too shocked to intervene. Blood sprayed across the ground as Fez split Nate’s lip, broke his nose, and kept swinging like he was trying to erase him from existence.

Cassie and Lexi finally arrived—Cassie in a panic, pushing past a group of teenagers as she spotted you still gasping on the ground, Maddie holding your face gently, checking for bruises.

“Oh my God, oh my God, what the hell happened?!” Cassie dropped next to you, cradling your face. “Did he do this?!”