Instinct pulled my attention toward the voice—
—and that’s when I saw it.
A plastic cup, already airborne, flying straight at me.
I froze.
Knox didn’t.
He moved so fast I barely registered it. His arm locked tighter around me, yanking me into his side, turning his body between me and the crowd. At the same time, his other hand snapped out and struck the cup midair.
The lid popped off on impact.
Liquid splashed across him. His sleeve. His hand. The side of his neck.
The crowd gasped. One sharp, collective inhale.
Then everything surged.
People craned their necks, trying to see who had thrown it. Others lifted their phones higher, chasing the moment.
Titan barked, sharp and explosive, but stayed pressed to Knox’s leg.
Knox didn’t move away from me. His body stayed wrapped around mine, solid and unyielding, while security surged forward to locate the source.
I couldn’t breathe. My lungs locked, my vision tunneling until everything blurred at the edges. Then the memory crashed over me. Acid. Burning. Screaming. The smell of it. My body went cold, panic swallowing me whole.
The next thing I knew, I was in the car.
Titan pressed against my leg. Knox leaning toward me, his voice low, urgent, asking if I was okay.
I didn’t remember getting inside.
I nodded anyway, but the movement felt delayed, disconnected. My hands had started shaking without me noticing, small tremors I couldn’t control.
Then I saw it.
The damp collar of his shirt. The sheen of liquid on his hand.
Panic slammed back into me.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, my voice breaking. “Are you okay? Does it burn?”
My hands moved frantically over him, touching his neck, his chest, searching for damage I was sure I would find.
“It’s juice,” he said, trying to calm me.
I froze.
“Just juice,” he repeated. “I’m fine.”
Knox pulled me back into his side, his arm firm around me.
“You need to breathe,” he murmured, his hand moving slowly up and down my arm. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose.”
“I know. It’s adrenaline. You’re safe.”