CHAPTER 34
"Come on, Mac. One drink won't kill you."
I regarded the solo cup in Madison's hand as if it were a gun.
She smiled and wagged it at me, her glittery nails glinting in the light.
I should've said no.
I should've turned and left the house party, blocked out the pounding music, the strobing lights, the whirl of laughter and chaos closing in on all sides.
But I didn't.
I took the drink.
Because for once, I just needed to be normal. I wanted to laugh without worrying about someone observing me. I wanted to forget that Tony Zacks was out there and just be—if only for a night.
I tilted the cup and let the bitter fizz slide down my throat.
\---
The first thirty minutes were fine.
Almost fun.
I took a few photos—blurry, candid. Girls dancing with their shoes off. A guy playing flip cup with a bandana around his head. Arizen was off-campus tonight at a commitment for a cousin, and I made a promise to myself that I would be careful. That I would only stay an hour.
That I would keep the shadows out.
But then the room tilted.
And I knew something was wrong.
\---
It started slowly.
A burning in my chest. My arms, my legs, too loose, too light.
I blinked hard. Lights were too bright. Laughter too cutting. Music seemed to be inside my head.
I stepped back.
And the wall leaned.
"Okay, okay," I breathed to myself. "You're okay. Just air. Just—outside."
I battled through the crowd, hands outstretched, eyes on the front door. But it kept retreating from me like a mirage.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I reached to take it and dropped it. A flash of screen. Arizen's name.
I bent down.
The world tipped again.
I didn't get back up.
\---
I remember the voices next.
Muffled.
At an angle.
"She's not okay—"
"Dude, she's just drunk, chill—"
"Get your hands off her, man—"
And a voice I knew like thunder in a dark sky.
"Touch her again and I'll break your jaw."
Everything else went silent.
Except the feeling of arms—firm, strong—lifting me.
The scent of cedar and anger.
The feeling of the world being anchored all at once.
Tony.
\---
I don't remember leaving the party.
Not really.
Just the feel of his jacket around me. The rumble of his voice. The way he carried me like I was the only thing keeping him together from shattering.
\---
Next thing I knew, he was breaking down a door.
Heat touched my skin. Low lights. Familiar scent.
His apartment.
He set me down gently on his bed, his jaw tight, eyes darker than I'd ever seen them.
I blinked up at him. My eyes swam.
"Tony…"
He knelt beside me. "Don't talk. Just breathe."
"I—" My throat seared. "Something was in the drink…"
"I know," he said, voice a snarl. "I saw it. I saw him."
A spark of fury fractured his mask.
"I swear to God, Mackenzie, if I hadn't made it when I did…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
I tried to sit up, but my head spun. He caught me with one hand behind my back.
“Easy,” he muttered. “I’ve got you.”
And he did.
For once, there were no games.
No smirks.
No commands.
Just his hand, warm against my spine. Just his voice, low and rough and breaking.
“You shouldn’t have been there,” he said. “Not without me.”
I attempted a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. "You think you're my bodyguard now?"
His eyes darted to mine. "I think someone has to be."
There it was again—that impossible combination of protectiveness and anger. Not at me. But for me.
It did something twist low in my chest.
"Tony…"
He turned away. "I can't lose you. Not like that. Not to them."
"Why do you care?" I breathed.
Silence.
Then he searched my eyes, and I saw it—所有 of it. The destruction. The pain. The fear.
"Because you're the only real thing I have left."
\---
I don't remember falling asleep.
Only his hand on mine.
Only his voice saying something soft I couldn't catch.
And for the first time, I didn't feel broken.
I felt safe.
\---
When I woke the next morning, sunlight poured across the hardwood floor. My mouth was dry. My head ached. But my body was intact. My clothes unmolested.
Tony was sitting in the chair under the window, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest.
Watching me.
"Hey," I croaked.
He was beside me in an instant, coming to the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Like my brain got steamrolled," I complained.
He didn't smile. "You scared the hell out of me."
I sat up slowly. "Did you… stay all night?"
His nod was curt. "I wasn't leaving you like that."
I looked down at the comforter clutched in my hands. "Thank you."
He shook his head. "Don't thank me."
"Seriously, I mean it."
He exhaled, like he'd been holding his breath for hours.
"I'll kill the guy who did it," he said quietly. "If I find out who—"
"You won't," I interrupted.
His jaw locked.
"You can't make everything war."
"Somebody tried to harm you, Mac."
"Somebody's always going to try," I returned. "That's not your war. It's mine."
He shoved a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to not take care of you."
I scowled at him. "And I don't know how to be with you and not forget how to take care of myself."
That made him hesitate.
He looked hurt.