Alma adjusted the straps of her heavy backpack. She walked down the concrete path toward the bus stop.

The next morning, the air inside the university felt different.

As soon as Alma walked through the front entrance, she felt the stares. A group of sorority girls standing by the trophy case stopped talking and pointed at her.

Alma kept her eyes fixed on the floor tiles. She walked faster, heading toward the lecture hall for her first seminar.

She turned into a quiet, narrow hallway that connected the main building to the gym.

A frat guy named K. Brown was leaning against the wall. As Alma walked past, he suddenly kicked his heavy boot out, aiming right for her ankles.

Alma saw the movement in her peripheral vision. She shifted her weight instantly. She stumbled forward, catching herself before her knees hit the floor.

She didn't fall.

She stopped and turned her head. She looked at K. Brown. Her eyes were flat and dead.

K. Brown smirked. He put two fingers in his mouth and blew a loud, sharp whistle down the hall.

"Target is here!" he yelled.

Footsteps echoed from both ends of the hallway.

Brenda Chandler, a senior and the president of the most exclusive sorority on campus, walked out from the stairwell. She was flanked by Tanya Mercer, Shawna Gable, and Tammy Drudge.

They moved in a line, blocking the entire width of the hall.

Alma took a half-step backward. Her spine hit the cold cinderblock wall. She gripped the straps of her backpack tightly.

Brenda stopped two feet in front of Alma. She looked Alma up and down. Her eyes lingered on Alma's frayed sweater.

"Look at this," Brenda sneered. Her voice echoed in the empty space. "Did you buy that at a garage sale, or pull it out of the trash?"

Tanya stepped forward. She reached out and grabbed a handful of Alma's hair. She yanked it hard.

"What makes you think you can talk to Caden?" Tanya demanded. "You think he actually likes you? You're a charity case."

Alma's scalp burned from the pull. She didn't wince. She didn't speak. She just stared at Brenda's perfectly glossed lips.

Her silence was a direct challenge.

Brenda's face flushed with anger. She hated being ignored.

Brenda pulled her right arm back. She swung her hand with all her strength.

Her palm connected with the left side of Alma's face.

The slap sounded like a gunshot in the narrow hallway.

The force of the blow snapped Alma's head to the right. Her cheek exploded in hot, stinging pain. The skin instantly turned bright red.

Shawna and Tammy stepped up. They grabbed Alma's shoulders, pinning her flat against the wall so she couldn't run.

Alma tasted copper. The inside of her cheek had caught against her teeth. Blood pooled on her tongue.

She slowly turned her head back to look at Brenda. Her eyes remained completely empty. No tears. No fear.

Brenda pointed a manicured finger an inch from Alma's nose.

"Stay away from Caden," Brenda hissed. "If I see you near him again, a slap is going to be the least of your problems."

The loud, shrill sound of the warning bell rang through the speakers.

Shawna and Tammy let go of Alma's shoulders. Brenda gave her one last disgusted look. The four girls turned and walked away, their heels clicking loudly on the linoleum.

Alma stood against the wall. She took a slow, deep breath.

She lifted the back of her hand and wiped the corner of her mouth. A small smear of red blood stained her pale skin.

She didn't walk toward the dean's office. The university administration wouldn't do anything to the sorority president over a scholarship student from the wrong side of the tracks.

Alma turned and pushed open the heavy wooden door of the girls' restroom.

The bathroom was empty. The fluorescent lights buzzed above the sinks.

Alma walked up to the mirror. She gripped the edges of the porcelain sink.

She stared at her reflection. The handprint on her left cheek was raised and angry. It was a perfect, physical manifestation of violence.

She turned on the cold water. She rinsed the blood off her hand.

Her brain worked like a machine. She calculated the variables. Brenda had power. Alma had none. But Caden had more power than Brenda.

She needed a weapon. Caden was going to be that weapon.

Alma reached up and pulled her hair out of its neat ponytail. She messed up the strands, letting them fall wildly around her face. She made sure a few pieces stuck to her sweaty forehead.

She stared at her eyes in the mirror. She forced herself to think about the mud. She thought about her father's face pressed into the dirt.

Her chest tightened. Her eyes began to burn.

She rubbed her knuckles hard into her eyes until the whites turned bloodshot. A few real, physiological tears formed and spilled over her lower lashes.

She looked broken. She looked pathetic. It was perfect.

Alma pushed away from the sink. She walked out of the restroom.

She avoided the main hallways. She took the back stairs down to the athletic wing.

She knew Caden's schedule. Morning crew practice ended ten minutes before his first seminar. He would be in the athletic center's locker room right now.

Alma walked down the quiet corridor leading to the locker room doors. The air here smelled of bleach and sweat.

She stopped a few feet away from the heavy metal door. She could hear the sound of showers running and boys shouting inside.

Alma leaned her back against the wall. She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach. She began to take short, shaky breaths. She forced her shoulders to tremble.

She waited.

Five minutes later, the metal door swung open.

A cloud of warm, damp steam rolled out into the hallway.

Caden stepped out. He had a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His blonde hair was still damp from the shower.

He turned to walk down the hall.

His eyes landed instantly on the corner.

He saw Alma. He saw her trembling shoulders. He saw the messy hair.

And then, he saw the bright red, swollen handprint covering half of her face.

Caden stopped dead in his tracks. The easy smile on his face vanished.

He dropped his heavy gym bag. It hit the floor with a loud thud.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides.

Alma heard his boots hit the floor. She flinched violently. She pulled her knees up slightly and threw her hands over her face, covering the red mark. She pressed herself harder against the wall, acting like a cornered animal.

Caden stopped right in front of her. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Who did this?" Caden demanded. His voice was low, tight, and vibrating with rage.

Alma shook her head frantically. She kept her hands over her face.

A fresh tear slipped from her eye. It rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the back of Caden's hand.

"No one," Alma choked out. Her voice cracked perfectly. "Please, just leave me alone."

The warm tear hitting his skin felt like a lit match. Caden's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.

He reached out. His large hands gently but firmly wrapped around her wrists. He pulled her hands away from her face.

He stared at the angry red welts on her pale skin. He could see the faint outline of fingers.

His breathing turned heavy. His male pride, his sense of territory, was deeply offended. Someone had touched something he wanted.

"Alma," Caden said, leaning in closer. "Look at me."

Alma kept her eyes cast down.

"I shouldn't have talked to you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I knew this would happen. I don't belong here. This is what I get for thinking... for thinking I could just be normal."

The words hit Caden exactly where she aimed them.

Guilt washed over his face. He realized instantly that his public attention in the cafeteria had put a target on her back. He had caused this.

The guilt quickly mutated into violent anger.

Caden let go of her wrists. He grabbed her shoulders instead. His grip was tight.

"I swear to God, Alma," Caden said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Whoever touched you is going to pay. Tell me who it was."

Alma looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. She reached up and grabbed his forearms. Her fingers dug into his jacket.

"No! You can't!" she begged. "Please, Caden. They're senior girls. They'll ruin my life if you say anything. I can't afford to get in trouble. Please."

She dropped the clue smoothly. Senior girls.

Caden's eyes narrowed. His brain processed the information instantly. There was only one group of senior girls who ran the hallways and cared enough about who he talked to.

Brenda Chandler.

"I won't let them touch you again," Caden said.

He pulled her forward. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his broad chest.

Alma rested her cheek against the rough fabric of his shirt. To anyone walking by, she looked like a fragile girl seeking comfort.

Hidden against his chest, the corners of Alma's mouth twitched upward. A cold, satisfied smile touched her lips.

She heard the squeak of sneakers at the far end of the hall.

Alma gasped and shoved Caden away. She wrapped her arms around herself again, looking around wildly as if terrified of being caught.

Caden looked down at her shivering frame. He shrugged off his heavy, navy-blue team jacket.

He stepped close and draped the jacket over her shoulders. The jacket was massive on her. It smelled like his cologne and sweat. He pulled the zipper up to her collarbone, locking her inside his colors.

"Go to the campus health center," Caden ordered softly. "Get some ice for your face. Stay there until the bell rings."

Alma nodded slowly. She pulled the oversized sleeves over her hands.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice small.

"Don't worry about it," Caden said. His eyes were cold. "I'll handle it."

Alma turned and walked away. She kept her head down, shuffling her feet.

When she reached the stairwell, she paused. She glanced back over her shoulder.

Caden was marching down the opposite end of the hallway. His fists were balled at his sides. He looked like a soldier going to war.

Alma turned her head forward. Her posture instantly straightened. The trembling stopped. Her steps became light and precise.

She walked into the main corridor.

Caden spotted a freshman pledge from his fraternity standing by the water fountain. Caden didn't raise his voice or lift a hand. He simply stepped into the boy's path, his presence alone a suffocating weight.

"Who was causing a scene in the north hall this morning?" Caden asked, his tone dangerously calm.

The boy's eyes went wide, intimidated by the sudden, intense focus of a senior elite. "I... I don't know man, I just heard Brenda and Shawna yelling at some girl."

Caden gave a curt nod, stepping aside to let the boy scurry off. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and held it to his ear.

"Meet me by the back doors," Caden said into the phone. "Bring the guys. We have a problem to fix."

Alma pushed open the door to the campus health center.

The room smelled of rubbing alcohol. The clinic nurse looked up from her desk. She saw the red mark on Alma's face and frowned.

"Good lord, honey. What happened to you?" the nurse asked, standing up.

"I tripped," Alma lied smoothly. "I hit my face on an open locker door."

The nurse raised an eyebrow. The mark clearly looked like a hand. But she didn't push. The clinic staff rarely pushed when they didn't have to.

"Sit on the bed," the nurse sighed. She walked to a small freezer and pulled out a blue gel ice pack.

Alma sat on the edge of the paper-lined examination bed. She took the ice pack and pressed it against her burning cheek.

The intense cold numbed the pain immediately.

Alma reached into her backpack with her free hand. She pulled out her Constitutional Law textbook.

She opened the book to chapter four. She began to silently mouth the vocabulary words.

Outside the window, Caden and three massive guys from his fraternity were walking briskly toward the parking lot.

Alma didn't look out the window. She just kept reading. She waited for the storm to hit.

The noon chimes rang, a deep, melodic toll that echoed across the university quad.

Alma closed her Constitutional Law textbook. She tossed the warm, melted ice pack into the plastic trash can by the nurse's desk.

She smoothed the front of Caden's oversized team jacket. She adjusted her expression, letting a soft, nervous look settle over her features. She walked out of the clinic.

At the exact same moment, behind the campus athletic center, Caden stood in the shadow of the bleachers.

Roisin FitzAlan leaned against the brick wall. She was a junior who spent more time in detention than in class. She had a silver ring pierced through her eyebrow and smelled heavily of cheap cigarette smoke.

Caden pulled a folded stack of twenty-dollar bills from his pocket. He held it out.

"Brenda, Shawna, and Tammy," Caden said, his voice flat. "Make sure they understand."

Roisin flicked her cigarette butt onto the concrete. She snatched the cash from Caden's hand and shoved it into the pocket of her leather jacket.

She grinned, showing a chipped front tooth.

"Consider it done," Roisin said. She whistled sharply. Two other girls stepped out from behind the dumpsters. They walked toward the main building.

Inside the girls' locker room, the air was thick with hairspray.

Shawna and Tammy were standing in front of the long mirrors. They were changing into their designer tracksuits.

"Did you see her face?" Shawna laughed, applying a thick coat of lip gloss. "Brenda almost knocked her teeth out."

Tammy giggled. "She looked like a drowned rat."

The heavy metal door of the locker room suddenly slammed open. It hit the wall with a deafening crash.

Roisin walked in. Her heavy combat boots thudded against the tile floor. Her two friends followed, pulling the door shut behind them.

There was a loud click as Roisin locked the deadbolt.

Shawna dropped her lip gloss. It rolled across the floor.

"What are you doing?" Shawna asked. Her voice shook.

Roisin didn't answer. She crossed the room in seconds. She lunged straight for Brenda, grabbing the sorority president by the throat and slamming her hard against the metal lockers. The impact knocked the wind out of Brenda.

"You're the boss, right?" Roisin hissed, watching Brenda gasp for air in pure shock. "Consider this a demotion."

Roisin shoved Brenda to the floor, leaving her gasping, then turned to the others. She grabbed a fistful of Shawna's blonde hair.

Shawna screamed.

Roisin slammed Shawna face-first into the mirror. The glass rattled.

Tammy stumbled backward in terror. Her back hit the cold metal lockers.

One of Roisin's friends stepped up. She kicked Tammy hard in the back of the knee. Tammy collapsed onto the wet tile. The girl grabbed a large plastic water bottle from a bench and dumped the freezing water directly over Tammy's head.

Tammy gasped, coughing as the water soaked her designer tracksuit.

Roisin leaned close to the mirror, pressing Shawna's cheek against the glass.

"Caden says hi," Roisin whispered into Shawna's ear. "He said you touched something that belongs to him."

Shawna sobbed. "It was Brenda! Brenda did it! We just watched!"

Roisin pulled a pair of sharp metal scissors from her jacket pocket. The blades glinted under the fluorescent lights.

She pressed the cold metal flat against Shawna's cheek. She grabbed a thick chunk of Shawna's hair near the root.

Snip.

A six-inch lock of blonde hair fell onto the wet floor.

Shawna shrieked hysterically.

"You have until the hour is up to find Alma in the dining hall," Roisin said, her voice dead serious. "You apologize in front of everyone. If you don't, tomorrow I cut something else."

Fifteen minutes later, Alma walked into the crowded dining hall.

She held a plastic tray with a bowl of soup. She walked past the empty tables in the back. She deliberately chose a table right in the center of the room. It was highly visible.

She sat down. She pulled Caden's jacket tighter around herself.

The double doors of the dining hall banged open.

The loud chatter in the room died instantly. Hundreds of heads turned.

Caden walked in. His face was a mask of cold fury.

Behind him, Shawna and Tammy stumbled into the room. Their tracksuits were soaked. Shawna's hair was a jagged, uneven mess on one side. Their eyes were red and swollen from crying.

Caden walked straight to the center of the room. He stopped at Alma's table.

He didn't say a word. He just turned and glared at the two girls behind him.

Shawna and Tammy walked up to Alma's table. Their bodies were shaking violently.

Every student in the dining hall was watching in dead silence.

Shawna and Tammy bowed at the waist.

"We're sorry," Shawna cried loudly, her voice echoing in the quiet room. "We're so sorry we bullied you this morning. We'll never look at you again. We swear."

Alma's fingers tightened around the plastic soup spoon.

A rush of pure, intoxicating power flooded her veins. It took every ounce of her self-control not to smile. The physical sensation of dominance made her stomach flutter.

But her face showed only shock and fear.

Alma looked up at Caden. Her eyes were wide, pleading.

"Caden, it's okay," Alma whispered softly, making sure her voice sounded shaky. "Just... let them go. Please."

Caden looked down at her. Her forgiveness made him feel like a god. He had protected her, and she was merciful because of him.

He turned his head slightly toward the crying girls.

"Get out," Caden spat.

Shawna and Tammy covered their faces and ran out of the dining hall.

Caden pulled out the chair next to Alma and sat down.

Instantly, the students at the surrounding tables looked down at their food. No one dared to stare.

Caden reached out. He gently brushed his knuckles against Alma's uninjured cheek.

Alma didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch slightly, playing the role of the grateful, rescued bird.

At a table near the window, Brenda sat frozen. Her face was chalk-white. She dropped her fork onto her tray. She didn't make a sound.

Alma lowered her head and took a sip of her soup.

Behind the rim of the plastic bowl, her shoulders finally relaxed. The tension left her spine.

The message was delivered. She was untouchable.

She walked out of the dining hall with Caden by her side. The afternoon sun hit her face. The first phase of her survival plan was complete.