Chapter 5 : Danilo Gets Robbed

Danilo’s Pov

I couldn’t stop smiling.

“You totally killed it in there,” Antonia said, bumping her shoulder against mine. “I mean… I don’t want to make your head grow bigger than it is right now, but you just made half the club look like extras in a school play.”

I laughed under my breath. “Don’t say that too loudly. Julian might set my locker on fire.”

“Oh, he’s definitely going to do something petty. But let him. He looked like he swallowed a lemon when Mrs. Harrison asked for your full name.”

We walked side by side down the hallway, our footsteps echoing in the quiet school as students dispersed. The late afternoon sun had dipped, casting long shadows through the tall windows. The building felt empty now, like it was holding its breath between the end of classes and the start of evening activities.

At the front doors, Antonia hesitated. “So… change of plans. Mind if I bail on you? Harper just texted me—movie night at her place. I was gonna say no, but she promised snacks and she has a heated pool.”

I smiled. “Go. I’m just gonna crash anyway.”

“You sure? You could come.”

I shook my head, I just wasn't a fan of Harper. “Nah. I need a minute to, like… let this all sink in.”

Antonia gave me a side hug. “Alright, Dani. But text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

We parted ways at the parking lot. Antonia headed toward the row of senior cars, already texting on her phone. I veered toward the side gate, where my usual shortcut would take me out through the back entrance of the school and toward the residential street I walked for three days now since my car was being repaired. My bag was slung over one shoulder, heavy with textbooks and notes I had no intention of opening tonight.

I was halfway there when I froze.

By the edge of the parking lot, near the metal fence, stood the last person I wanted to see.

Chase.

He was leaning against a red pickup, arms crossed, the low glow of a cigarette between his fingers. His broad frame cast a long shadow on the pavement. He wasn’t talking to anyone. He wasn’t scrolling his phone. He was waiting for me.

My stomach twisted.

Damn it.

I ducked behind the nearest trash bin, my breath catching as I crouched low, gripping the metal edge. The stench of cafeteria leftovers and sour milk filled my nostrils, but I didn’t move. I watched Chase check his phone, look around, then mutter something under his breath before finally pushing off the truck and walking away toward the field.

I waited a few minutes longer, just to be sure. By the time I crept out and started walking home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the streets were cast in deepening shadows.

My neighborhood wasn’t far—ten, maybe fifteen minutes on foot—but the route took me through quieter streets, past shuttered storefronts and dim streetlights. I adjusted my backpack and picked up the pace.

Halfway down one of the narrower alleys that led to the residential road, I heard footsteps behind me

I turned—and immediately felt the sharp tug of fear in my chest.

Two men. Hoodies drawn low over their faces like shadows with fists. One was tall and wiry, the other broader, slower, like a mountain that moved. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. They just stepped into my path like they’d been waiting for me all along.

I froze. My heart skipped a beat—then began hammering so loudly it drowned out the city noise.

I turned on instinct, desperate to backtrack, but the broader guy had already crept up behind me, blocking my escape.

“Your wallet and phone,” the taller one barked, voice sharp and brittle like cracked glass, as he brandished a knife. “Now. Don’t try to be brave.”

My throat tightened. Words stuck behind my tongue. I stumbled back, but the broader man shoved me hard against the cold brick wall. The impact knocked the breath out of me, my spine rattling on impact. Pain bloomed in my ribs. I gasped, and before I could recover, his rough hands were already digging into my pockets like they owned me.

Panic flooded me, icy and fast. My skin prickled with fear.

I wanted to scream. To yell. But I didn’t.

Because just beyond them, I saw someone approaching—tall, familiar, cocky in his stride.

Carter.

For a heartbeat, I felt hope.

Then it dissolved.

He’s not going to help me, I thought. He has never done it before. Why start now? He watches and laughs sometimes. I couldn’t even bring myself to call out to him. I didn’t want to give them more reason to hurt me.

So I shut my eyes. Clenched my fists. And prayed for it to be over quickly.

But then—like a tear in the silence—his voice sliced through the night.

“Hey!”

The hands rifling through my bag paused.

My eyes flew open.

Carter was walking toward us.

The streetlight behind him cast his face in half-shadow, but I knew that voice. I knew that gait. He walked like he had all the time in the world, like none of this impressed him—like he’d seen worse and wasn’t afraid to remind them of it.

His jaw was locked tight, fists curled at his sides. There was something dangerous in his eyes. Something steady. Unshaken.

“Is this what you guys do now for a quick fix?” Carter said coldly, gaze fixed on the taller man. “Robbing high school students? How pathetic.”

He said it like he knew them.

The wiry guy straightened, flashing a knife, but his hand wavered. “Dude, mind your business. This doesn’t concern you.”

Carter didn’t flinch. He peeled off his black leather jacket slowly, deliberately, like he wanted them to know he wasn’t bluffing.

“Let him go,” he said, voice low and lethal. “Or you two are gonna find out just how bad a night this can get.”