MasukCole POVHarper disappears through the Alpha Chi door like she’s holding herself together by threads.Logan just stands there, staring, breathing like he’s drowning on dry land.Then it hits him.He explodes.“Fuck!”His voice cracks the quiet, scares a squirrel off a bush. He grabs his hair, pacing, chest heaving.I’ve seen Logan pissed.Game-day pissed.Ref-blew-the-call pissed.This isn’t that.This is fear.This is heartbreak with teeth.He turns like he’s about to go after her, storm the house, drag her back out just to keep arguing or kissing or burning alive in whatever the hell that was.I plant myself in front of him.“Move,” he snarls. “Move, Cole.”“No.”“Cole, I swear to—”“WHAT?” I snap at him, voice sharp enough to cut him off. “What are you going to do, huh? Blow up what little you have left? Scream her name like an idiot and scare her more? Put on another episode of the Logan Shaw Self-Destruction Tour?”His eyes are wild. “Why are you even here?”“Because,” I fire bac
Harper POVThe front door bang-closes behind me and I stumble into the foyer like I forgot how legs work.Three Alpha Chi sisters freeze mid-conversation — Lily with her latte, Shay with a face mask on, Jenna holding a bowl of cereal like it’s a sacred artifact.Their eyes are huge.“Oh my god—”“Was that—?”“Did Logan Shaw just—”“No.”My voice comes out cracked and too sharp.“No, we’re not doing this.”I hold up a hand like I can physically push the world back.Shay blinks. “Babe. We literally watched him—”“Please.”It’s barely a whisper.“If anyone hugs me right now, I will evaporate.”Lily hands me a tissue like she’s afraid I’ll bite.I take it.I can feel my pulse everywhere — in my throat, my wrists, my teeth.My lips still feel like they’re holding memory.I hate that.“I’m fine,” I lie.“I just… need upstairs. Space. Air. A time machine.”Jenna whispers, “My dude looked possessed. Like ‘screw Romeo, I’m eating the stage’ energy.”I give her a look that could ruin crops.She
Logan POVI don’t remember walking off campus.I don’t remember unlocking the front door of the Ice House.I just remember Cole’s stupid, steady voice echoing in my head:You’re too wrapped up in chasing shiny, shallow things to see what’s real.Like hell I am.My fist hits the wall of my room before I realize I’m even moving. Not hard enough to break anything — just hard enough to feel something.Pain’s clean. Simple. It doesn’t argue back or look at you like it expected better.Unlike her.I drag a hand through my hair, pacing like the ground might give if I stop moving.Harper laughing with Ryan Brooks.Harper saying don’t in the lecture hall like I was a threat, not a—No. Don’t say it. Don’t think it.Harper standing in my doorway last night, face open and raw before it shattered.Then Cole.Asking her out.I taste metal. My jaw aches from clenching.He has no right to—I have no right either.Right. Wrong. None of it matters because I can’t get enough air in my lungs.I grab my
Harper POVBy morning, the tequila courage is gone, but the ache isn’t.Lila’s curled against me like a human emotional support blanket, and for a second, I almost believe I’m okay.But memory is cruel.Logan’s room.Sophia.Her hand on his chest like she belonged there.My heart breaking fast and stupid.I shower, scrub my face clean, and pull on armor instead of clothes — cream sweater that fits like I earned every curve, pleated skirt, sleek hair, red lip because red means war.I am not crawling. I will not beg. Not today. Not ever again.The lecture hall feels colder than usual. I slide into my front-row seat — controlled, poised, the girl who always has her shit together.Then he enters.Logan.Late. Jaw clenched. Exhaustion in the way he moves.I don’t turn. I don’t let him see the tremor in my hands.Power is not looking at someone who once felt inevitable.Halfway through lecture, my phone buzzes.You didn’t deserve that.I’m sorry.I shove my phone deep in my bag like burying
Logan POVCold air slices through my jacket the second we’re outside, sharp enough to sting. My blood’s still buzzing with anger and something worse—something I refuse to name.Cole walks beside me, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind but his eyes pinned on me like I’m a lit fuse he’s trying to keep away from gasoline.Neither of us talks at first.I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to breathe. I feel like I swallowed a live wire and now everything inside me is sparking and burning and trying to short-circuit.I don’t get rattled. I don’t shake. I don’t… come undone.Yet here I am. Coming undone in real time.Cole finally breaks the silence. “You done pretending you’re calm?”My jaw grinds. “I just need air.”“Congrats,” he mutters. “We’re outside. Still look like you want to punch God.”I keep walking. Faster. If I stop, I might explode. The night is too quiet, campus too peaceful, and it makes the chaos in my chest louder.Cole kicks a pebble
Harper POVI don’t remember leaving his room.One second there was his voice — low, shocked — saying my name.And the next, I was running.Down the stairs.Out the door.Into the cold.The night air hits like a slap, freezing and brutal, scraping against my lungs. Campus lights smear into streaks, my vision glassy and too bright. My heels click too fast across the sidewalk, every step like a heartbeat that doesn’t know how to slow down.I went there for paperwork.For a sponsorship.For something responsible. Professional. Normal.I didn’t go to see… that.I bite the inside of my cheek hard, like pain could erase the image burned into my skull. It doesn’t. It never does.By the time I reach Alpha Chi, my fingers are numb and I’m shaking — adrenaline, humiliation, anger, all braided so tight I can’t separate them.The front door swings open and warm vanilla sorority-house air floods me. The living room glows soft gold, fairy lights twinkling like nothing bad ever happens here.I take o







