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“How are you here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He glanced at the card in my hand. “Did you really get an invite, or did you sneak in?”

“I was invited.” I gritted my teeth, racking my brain for how to get away from him.

“Huh. Guess they don’t know.” He leaned closer. “Should I tell them why nobody back home invites you anywhere?”

The bartender was serving someone further down the counter. I could call him over. Dylan hadn’t done anything except talk to me, and I could already imagine the looks I’d get for making a scene.

“I should go,” I said.

“That’s it?” Dylan stepped into my path. “You used to have more to say.”

I had. I’d said everything I knew that night, and again the next morning. But nothing I said mattered. Dylan had already convinced our classmates it was my fault. Despite the investigation concluding it had only been a terrible accident, they all hated me after that day.

There was room to get around him on the left if he’d let me pass, but he was enjoying this way too much to let me go.

“What do you think they’d say if I told them what you did?” he said while looking toward the crowd. “Do you think Corvus would want you here?”

Dread formed a knot in my stomach at the thought of Ronan and Thorne finding out. I couldn’t let that happen.

I squeezed the bottle. “Move, Dylan.”

His smile thinned. “That’s the Gwen I remember.”

It was so similar to what Thorne had said, but Thorne made me want to show him the real me. Dylan reminded me of why I’d been hiding.

I had to get out of here, but when I went left, he moved with me, catching my wrist with enough strength that the bottle slipped from my hand. Dylan’s fingers pressed against the bones of my wrist. For a moment, all I could do was look at his hand.

“Let go.” I pulled against Dylan’s grip, but he held on.

“Gwen.” Ronan came up beside me. He was glaring at Dylan’s hand on my wrist.

Dylan’s fingers loosened, and his face changed the moment he saw who had spoken.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ronan said, grabbing the arm that was still holding mine.

Dylan’s face twisted, a small whine of pain escaping him.

“Nothing.” Dylan let go of me. “We know each other.”

I took a step back and rubbed my wrist. Ronan followed the movement, the tendons in his neck growing taut. The smile he gave Dylan sent shivers down my spine. “You really fucked up.”

“It’s just a misunderstanding.” Dylan gave a quick laugh that sounded wrong. A couple near the bar had begun watching us, and he seemed to see them too. “She’s always been dramatic. Ask her what happened at the last party she went to.”

Worry sank into my gut. I was afraid of what I’d see in Ronan’s eyes.

But when I looked, Ronan was already slamming his fist into Dylan’s mouth.

Dylan stumbled back, caught himself for half a second, then fell onto the stones. A dark smear appeared on his lower lip. He touched it and stared at the blood on his fingers.

My breath caught in my lungs as I tried to process everything. I had thought Ronan would hate me after hearing what Dylan had to say, but Ronan hadn’t even given him a chance to speak. As if nothing he said could possibly matter.

People nearby backed away, clearing space around us, and I wanted to tell them to stop looking. I wanted to pick up my bottle, go back to my room, and wake up with no one remembering I’d been here.

Ronan turned to me. “Are you okay?”

His voice was low, but I could hear how angry he was. The last time he’d stood this close, he’d waited for me to kiss him. I had no idea what he was going to do now.