The sky was gray when Sophie stepped out of her house the next morning, the air thick with the promise of rain. Everything in her body screamed at her not to go, not to set foot in Windmere High again, not after the way Ethan's smirk had haunted her dreams. But she couldn't hide forever. She had promised Marcus she wouldn't. She clutched her notebook close to her chest like a shield and forced her feet to move.
The halls buzzed louder than usual. Sophie could feel the eyes on her before she even reached her locker. A paper was taped to it, cruel words scrawled in black marker: Hale's whore. Her stomach twisted, but she tore it down before anyone could see her falter. She shoved the paper into her bag and pressed her back against the cold metal, forcing her breath to steady.
"Nice art piece," Ethan's voice slid like poison through the air. Sophie stiffened. He leaned against the locker beside hers, his smile infuriatingly calm. "You should keep it. Fits you."
"Go to hell," Sophie muttered, shoving her books into her bag.
His chuckle was low, cruel. "You keep saying that, but you don't get it, do you? You're already in hell. And Marcus is the one who dragged you here."
Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag. "You don't know anything about him."
"Oh, I know enough." His gaze sharpened. "He's weak. And weakness gets people killed."
Sophie snapped her locker shut, her pulse racing. She wanted to scream at him, but she remembered Marcus's face the night before—bloodied, broken, trembling in her arms. Rage flared inside her, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn't give Ethan the satisfaction. Without another word, she turned and walked away.
But Ethan wasn't finished. His voice followed her down the hall. "He's going to destroy you, Sophie. And when he does, I'll be here. Watching."
By the time she reached class, her hands were shaking. She barely made it through the day, her mind stuck in a loop of Marcus's trembling voice, Ethan's smirk, the way the walls of the school felt like a trap closing around her. Every glance, every whisper felt like another chain pulling tighter.
When the final bell rang, Sophie didn't go home. She went straight to the warehouse.
Marcus was already there, pacing like a caged animal. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight, his hoodie stained with something she didn't want to think about. When he saw her, his eyes softened, but the fire in them didn't fade. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice rough.
"Ethan," Sophie said simply, dropping her bag. "He's not stopping."
Marcus cursed under his breath, slamming his fist into the wall. The sound echoed, sharp and violent. "I'll kill him."
"No!" Sophie rushed to him, grabbing his arm before he could hit the wall again. "That's what he wants. Don't you get it? He's trying to pull you under with him."
Marcus's chest heaved. He looked down at her, his eyes burning with desperation. "What am I supposed to do, Sophie? Just let him hurt you? Just let him tear you apart?"
Her throat ached. She pressed her hands to his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You protect me by staying alive. By staying here with me. Not by throwing yourself into his fire."
His jaw trembled, his body shaking under her touch. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then, finally, his shoulders slumped, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "You make me want to be better," he whispered.
Her eyes stung with tears. "Then be better. For me. For us."
He kissed her then, soft and trembling, as if her words had cracked something open inside him. Sophie clung to him, her tears spilling onto his lips, her heart breaking with how fragile he felt in her arms.
But the moment couldn't last. The warehouse door slammed open.
Sophie froze, her stomach dropping. Ethan stood in the doorway, flanked by two boys Sophie recognized from school—both of them bigger than Marcus, both of them smirking.
"Well, well," Ethan drawled, stepping inside. "Look what we found. Lovers hiding in the ashes."
Marcus's body tensed, his fists clenching. Sophie grabbed his arm, panic rising. "Don't," she whispered. "Please, Marcus."
But Ethan only smirked wider. "Don't worry, Sophie. I'm not here to hurt you. Not yet. I just thought you should see what kind of man your Marcus really is." He snapped his fingers, and the two boys moved forward.
The fight was brutal. Marcus lunged, his fists flying, his body moving like raw instinct. Sophie screamed his name, but the sound was drowned out by the crash of bodies against metal, the sickening thud of fists on flesh. Marcus fought like a man possessed, but he was outnumbered. He took hits that made Sophie's stomach twist, blood spraying across the concrete.
Ethan watched, calm, almost amused, as if he had orchestrated the entire thing just to see Marcus break. "See, Sophie?" he called over the chaos. "This is who he is. Violence. Blood. Fire. And you think you can save him?"
"Shut up!" Sophie screamed, tears blinding her.
Marcus roared, slamming one of the boys into the wall, but the other tackled him from behind. Sophie ran forward, grabbing at arms, trying to pull them away, but Ethan caught her wrist, yanking her back.
"Stay out of it," he hissed, his grip bruising.
"Let me go!" Sophie cried, struggling.
Marcus's eyes snapped to them, wild with fury. He shoved the boy off him and lunged, his fist connecting with Ethan's jaw. Ethan stumbled back, releasing Sophie, but his smirk didn't fade. He spat blood onto the floor and laughed. "That's it, Hale. Keep proving me right."
Marcus stood over him, chest heaving, fists trembling, blood dripping down his face. Sophie grabbed his arm, sobbing. "Don't. Please, Marcus. Don't."
For a moment, the fire in his eyes was blinding. He looked like he might kill Ethan right there, end it once and for all. But then his gaze dropped to Sophie, to her tear-streaked face, to the way her hands shook against his skin. And slowly—painfully—he stepped back.
Ethan laughed again, wiping blood from his lip. "Pathetic." He gestured to his boys, and they slipped out the door, leaving him alone. He lingered in the doorway, his eyes locked on Sophie. "You can't save him," he said softly. "And when he burns, you'll burn with him."
Then he was gone.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Marcus collapsed to his knees, his hands covering his face. Sophie dropped beside him, wrapping her arms around his trembling body. "You didn't do it," she whispered. "You stopped. That means something."
But Marcus only shook his head, his breath ragged. "No. It means he's winning. And I don't know how to fight him without losing myself."
Sophie held him tighter, her tears soaking his shirt. "Then don't fight him alone. We'll fight together."
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The storm outside raged, lightning splitting the sky, thunder shaking the walls. Sophie pressed her head to his chest, listening to the frantic rhythm of his heart.
And she knew, with a clarity that terrified her, that they were running out of time.