The Mustang screeched into the Hawkins High lot like it wanted a fight just as much as she did. Before the engine even fully cut out, the driver’s door flew open and she stepped out—five-foot-two of fury wrapped in a Metallica crop top, ripped black shorts, fishnets, and combat boots that hit the pavement with purpose. Her long brown hair whipped in the wind, tattoos peeking from beneath fabric, silver glinting from piercings on her face and tongue as she clenched her jaw hard enough to ache.

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas scrambled out behind her, but none of them tried to stop her. They’d seen that look before—the one that meant someone was about to meet God.

Across the courtyard, Gareth was mid-conversation with Eddie, Jeff, and Freak 1 when he spotted her storming across the lot.

“Babe?” he called, brows knitting. “HEY—wait!”

She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t slow. Didn’t hear him.

Her gaze was locked like a laser on Jason Carver, who lounged near the lockers with his basketball buddies, laughing about something—right up until he saw her marching toward him like a bullet with legs.

Jason straightened, smirk forming. “What, you here to cry about—”

He didn’t finish.

Her fist caught a handful of his letterman jacket and— CRACK—she slammed his face straight into the metal lockers. The noise echoed down the hall, sharp and satisfying. Jason stumbled, hands flying to his nose, but she didn’t give him a chance to recover.

She was on him like a wildfire.

A knee to his ribs. A punch to his jaw. Another slam into the lockers. Fury poured out of her in every hit—every shove, every snarl. Jason dropped to the ground, but she followed, straddling him, fist curled back and ready.

“You think you can lay a hand on my brother?” she growled, voice low and trembling with rage. “Touch him again and I’ll end you.”

Jason tried to shield his face, but she shoved his arms aside and drove another punch down—hard enough his head bounced off the floor.

Students were shouting now, dispersing, but no one stepped in.

Except Gareth.

“Baby—HEY!” he sprinted across the hall, Eddie and Jeff right behind him. “That’s enough! HEY!”

She didn’t hear them.

Her knuckles cracked against Jason’s cheekbone again, eyes blazing, chest heaving. She wasn’t stopping. Not until someone physically—

Gareth hooked his arms around her waist and yanked her backward in one hard pull. Eddie grabbed her arm for good measure as Jason gasped on the floor.

“Let GO!” she snarled, kicking, thrashing, hair wild around her face. “He hit Mike! Let me go!”

Gareth tightened his grip, pulling her against his chest, grounding her even as she fought to get free. “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he said, breathless, trying to keep his voice calm despite his own panic. “But you’re gonna kill him—hey, look at me. Look at me.”

Her breathing slowed—not much, but enough. Her fists unclenched. Her body finally stopped thrashing, trembling instead. Gareth shifted, sliding one hand to her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Mike’s safe,” he murmured. “You protected him. You did enough.”

Behind them, Jason wheezed on the tile, clutching his bleeding face.

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Jesus H. Christ… remind me never to piss you off.”

She huffed, still seething, but leaning back into Gareth now as the adrenaline faded, leaving only shaking limbs and fury she didn’t know where to put.

Gareth pressed a kiss to the top of her head, voice soft but steady. “Next time,” he murmured, “warn me before you go full rabid raccoon on someone.”

She snorted despite herself.

But her eyes stayed locked on Jason—cold, ruthless, and promising she’d happily finish the job if he even looked at Mike again.