The parking lot explodes with the scream of an engine.

Tires squeal as your car fishtails into a space like it barely bothers stopping, the radio cutting out mid–metal riff when you slam it into park. Before the engine even dies, you’re already out—combat boots hitting asphalt hard, fishnets visible beneath black mid-thigh shorts, faded 80s metal tee clinging to you as you stalk toward Hawkins High like you’re on a warpath.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin scramble out behind you.

“—sis, maybe—” Dustin starts, swollen lip pulling when he talks.

You don’t slow down. Your jaw is tight, brown hair swinging down your back, tattoos flashing on your arms as your hands clench into fists. You’d seen the bruises last night. The black eye. The split lip. You’d listened to Dustin try to brush it off like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The doors bang open under your hand.

Lockers line the hallway, students scattering the second they see your face—pierced, furious, unmistakably not here to talk. Whispers ripple like electricity.

Billy Hargrove is leaning against a locker near the end of the hall, cigarette hidden in his sleeve, watching the chaos unfold with lazy interest—until he sees you.

And then everything shifts.

You don’t hesitate. Your eyes lock on Jason Carver laughing with his friends by the trophy case, all confidence and ego—

You close the distance in seconds.

Your hand fists in the back of his jacket, fingers digging into the nape of his neck, and before he can even turn—

BAM.

His face slams into the lockers with a metallic crash that echoes down the hall. Gasps erupt. Jason lets out a sharp, panicked sound, hands flying up as you pin him there effortlessly.

“Touch my brother again,” you snarl, voice low and shaking with rage, “and I swear to God they won’t recognize what’s left of you.”

You shove him once more for emphasis, the lockers rattling, your body a solid wall of fury and protection.

Behind you, Dustin freezes—eyes wide, a mix of shock and awe.

Billy straightens slowly, heart slamming harder than the lockers just did.

He’s seen fights. Hell, he’s started plenty. But this—this isn’t reckless anger. This is controlled. Protective. Devastating.

It hits him all at once.

The way you stand between danger and the people you love without hesitation. The fire in your eyes. The fact that you didn’t even think twice.

Billy watches you release Jason and step back, shoulders squared, daring him to try something stupid.

And suddenly, terrifyingly, Billy Hargrove realizes just how bad he has it for you.

Not just attraction.

Not just heat.

This is the kind of girl who would burn the world down for the people she loves.

And Billy knows—deep in his gut—he’d gladly be one of them.