“Snow?”

Mallory giggles, nodding her head. “Oh yeah.”

I will myself to speak, although I’m sure my concerns will be ignored. “Mallory…” The same caution that I constantly live by permeates my voice. “Let’s slow down for a bit and dance, okay?”

She turns to me with a smile, “We’ll dance. I just need to head to the bathroom for like a second. Just wait for me up there.” She points to the steel scaffold just above us. “I’ll come get you as soon as I get back.” Henri pulls her away before I can say anything and she follows giddily behind him without a second glance back.

“Fuck.”

I don’t swear much but I think I’m justified in my current situation. In this instant, surrounded by an orgy of intoxicated people, with the earthquake of the pounding bass line vibrating through my chest and the multihued laser lights picking me out from the crowd, I feel completely and utterly alone and lonely. Like a lost little child, I squeeze my way through the throng in hopes of finding the parent that forgot I was there. But Mallory isn’t my parent. She’s a friend who’s found something better to occupy her time. I should be angry and maybe a part of me is, but it doesn’t rival the mire of self-pity I find myself sinking into. My walk up the steel steps is blurred by hot, stinging tears I refuse to let fall. It isn’t as crowded up here, but all the same, I find the corner with the least amount of people and huddle close to one of the building’s support beams, wishing and hoping I can disappear inside its frosty, concrete interior. Feeling an increasing sense of detachment from it all, I peer down at the crowd for an impossible stretch of eternity wondering if it’s will alone keeping me from hurtling myself over or the metal bar I’m leaning into. There’s no answer. But there’s suddenly someone’s weight against me. Pressing into me. My heart jumps, and two sharp gasps crackle from my throat as my eyes widen in disbelief. Paralyzed by terror, I can only stand there at the feel of the thickness prodding against my backside.

“God, baby, your ass feels so good.” My ears ring as rancid, alcohol-drenched breath steams hot along the shell of my ear. “Bet it’d feel even better with my dick in between your cheeks.” He extends both his arms on either side of my body, his hands gripping the iron railing to completely cage me in. I slowly look up and stare straight ahead, my body in a trancelike state. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re going to beg me for more.” He moves his hips, grinds his erection against my butt cheeks. Still, I don’t move. “You going to scream for me, baby?”

Everything in me screams to get away. To escape. “No.” That’s all that comes out. A terrible, pitiful sound escapes from the fissures of a body that’s already been broken. Left exposed, the demons drag Tim’s presence into the moment, and his shadow, his weight, and his body replace the one behind me.

“My little flower.”

His words. Those revolting three little words play on a loop inside my head like a broken music box. My nightmare comes to life. It breathes down my neck. It touches me with oil-slicked hands. It bleeds violently into my reality, rendering me utterly powerless.

Please…no.

I don’t know how but someone hears my internal plea and in the seconds it takes for me to inhale a shuddering breath, the body of my assailant is gone.

When I turn, it’s to see my rescuer holding my assailant by the front of his shirt, his back bowed dangerously and half hanging over the iron railing. There’s the barrel of a gun firmly fixed against the side of the stranger’s head.

“You good?”

The raspy growl of the voice edged with a pitch of gruffness draws my eyes to the person speaking to me. In that precise moment, a strobe light focuses on him, casting immaculate features in haunting blue laser light, giving him this unworldly appearance. He’s a familiar face in a sea of strangers. The furthest thing from a friend, and yet, the overpowering rush of elation that spirals through me at the sight of his brooding face nearly knocks me to my knees.

Maddox.

An incredibly large, incomprehensible part of me wants to jump into his arms, hide my face against the sturdiness of his chest, and thank him for what he just did. But the very thought of being so close to a guy when I was just assaulted by one keeps me rooted while a flood of trepidation swishes like ice water through my veins. It’s a paradox, the inconsistency of emotions raging a war inside me.

“Hey.”

That one hushed demand has me meeting his gaze. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, a bit more firmly now.

With a shake of my head, I reply, “No.”

“Good,” he says, and then turns his attention to my assailant while still speaking to me. “How long do you think he’ll stay in the air before his body smacks into the ground?”

“Fuck, man! Shit. I’m sorry, all right? Didn’t realize she was your girl!”

“Aylee?”

My eyes fly to his face and though he just said my name, he’s still not looking at me. But from where I’m standing I have a good view of him and he looks completely unfazed by what’s happening. By what he’s doing. He sports the same hard, incisive expression he had when he’d held the sledgehammer to the Infinity driver’s throat last week. “He won’t stay airborne for long.” I find myself replying with an astounding level of coolness that rivals Maddox’s own. “The impact of his body hitting the concrete will be worse.”

“I’m thinking we test that theory. I’m kind of curious now to see just how gravity works. Extra credit toward our astronomy project.” The guy screams in protest when Maddox pushes him a little further over the railing. Sick fascination has me wondering whether he’ll actually do it. When our eyes meet again, I find my answer.

“How about we get extra credit without committing murder? I’ve done it plenty of times before,” I utter.

I see his mouth twitch. “Commit murder?”

I’m not at all surprised he can find humor in this. I’m slowly learning Maddox Moore is a little off that way. “Get extra credit,” I correct. “You should let him go.”

It does something strange to my insides when he actually complies and tugs the guy back from the edge and steadily brings him onto his feet. But he keeps the gun exactly where it is against the guy’s head. “You should apologize for putting your filthy fucking hands on her.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. I’m sorry for touching you!”

I know it’s not sincere, I know he’s only doing it because he’s under duress, but I don’t really care. It makes me feel good to see this jerk grovel, it feels amazing to hear him apologize for invading my space. For putting his hands on me without my fucking permission. Without thinking, without any form of hesitation, I walk up to the perverter, raise my booted foot, and kick him as hard as I can in the balls. His eyes widen as he doubles over in pain. When Maddox releases him, he crumples to floor into a fetal position, cupping a hand between his tightly-clenched thighs. I have no pity for him.

All I can think about is him doing this to some other girl who wouldn’t be so lucky as to have anyone step in to help her. I look down at him and I raise my foot to kick him again. It’s like the haze I fall into when I’m cutting. I forget where I am. Nothing else exist except to see how perfectly I can execute my internal emotions and turn them into something physical. Kicking this man is my anger being executed. The anger feels so good. For once in my entire life, I’m given a small chance to feel powerful. To be in control of something other than my razor blade.

I feel arms wrap around my waist, feel myself being lifted inches from the ground before Maddox sets me back down again, effectively stopping me from inflicting any more damage. The instant his cool hand curves around the left side of my face and he lowers his head close enough for us to share a breath, the haze dissipates.