Mason wasn’t supposed to be here.

He didn’t do high school parties. Too many people, too much noise, too many idiots trying to act tough or flirt like they weren’t just drunk out of their minds.

But then he got a text.

Dude, your sister’s messed up. Like—bad. Thought you should know.

Mason didn’t stop to reply. Didn’t even stop to think. He just grabbed his jacket and ran.

—

He found her outside, slumped against the back of someone’s car, barely conscious.

Her shirt was half off her shoulder, one of her shoes was missing, and her eyes—

Mason’s chest tightened. Her pupils were blown, her gaze unfocused, head lolling as if even holding it up was too much effort.

“Aria.” He crouched in front of her, grabbing her face gently, tilting her head up. “Hey. Look at me.”

Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t really see him.

“Mase?” Her voice was weak, slurred, confused.

Mason’s jaw clenched. “What did you take?”

She frowned, blinking slow. “Nothin’.”

He looked at her again—really looked. The sluggishness, the way her limbs felt like dead weight when he touched her, the way her words barely made it past her lips.

His stomach turned.

She wasn’t high. Someone did this to her.

He inhaled sharply through his nose. Someone drugged her.

Mason saw red.

“Who gave you a drink?” His voice was low, dangerous.