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.

Alma walked out of her history seminar. Caden was already leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for her.

He pushed off the wall. He reached out and grabbed the heavy strap of her backpack. He pulled it off her shoulder and slung it over his own.

"Let's go," Caden said. It wasn't a request.

Over the next three weeks, Alma's life at the university was perfectly peaceful. The hallways parted for her. People who used to bump into her now pressed themselves against the lockers to give her space.

But the peace came with a suffocating price.

Caden's protective instinct had mutated into absolute control. He walked her to every class. He sat with her at lunch.

And every day after the final bell, he dragged her to the library.

It was Wednesday afternoon. The library was quiet, filled with the hum of the ventilation system.

Alma sat at a small wooden table in the back corner, hidden behind rows of tall bookshelves. She stared down at a complex macroeconomics equation in her notebook.

Caden sat in the chair right next to her.

He had his elbow on the table, his chin resting in his palm. He wasn't looking at his textbook. His eyes were locked on the side of Alma's face.

He leaned in closer.

Alma felt his warm breath hit the sensitive skin of her neck.

A wave of intense, physical revulsion crawled up her spine. Her stomach churned. She hated his smell. She hated his constant, heavy presence.

She kept her face perfectly blank. She subtly shifted her weight. She slid her wooden chair half an inch to the left.

She reached her arm out, pretending to grab a pink eraser on the far side of her notebook. It put a few inches of physical distance between them.

Caden didn't notice the rejection. He smiled. He reached his hand out, aiming for a loose strand of hair near her ear.

Alma's peripheral vision caught the movement.

Just as his fingertips were about to brush her skin, she dropped her head sharply. She pressed her pencil hard against the paper, pretending to aggressively solve the math problem.

Caden's hand hit empty air. He dropped it back to the table.

Alma gritted her teeth. She couldn't tell him to back off. If she bruised his massive ego, his protection would turn into punishment. He would destroy her faster than Brenda ever could.

She needed an exit strategy.

As she stared at the math problem, a slight movement behind the bookshelves caught her eye.

Alma paused. She slowly lifted her head, pretending to stretch her neck.

Through the narrow gap between two rows of heavy encyclopedias, she saw a pair of eyes.

It was her dorm roommate, Bridgett Willis.

Bridgett was holding a thick novel up to her face, pretending to read. But her eyes were darting nervously over the top of the pages.

She was staring directly at Caden.

Alma watched closely. When Caden shifted in his chair, flexing his broad shoulders, Bridgett's fingers gripped the edges of her book so hard her knuckles turned white. Her face flushed a deep pink.

Alma's heart gave a slow, steady thump.

The pieces of a new puzzle clicked together in her mind. Bridgett was obsessed with him.

A perfect, clean escape route opened up right in front of her.

Alma dropped her pencil. It clattered against the table.

She let out a long, heavy sigh. She reached up and rubbed her temples, squeezing her eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" Caden asked instantly. He leaned in again.

Alma opened her eyes. She gave him a weak, exhausted smile.

"I'm just tired," Alma said softly. "It's Bridgett. My roommate."

Caden frowned. He leaned back. "What about her?"

"She cries every night," Alma lied smoothly. She kept her voice low and full of fake sympathy. "She's failing macroeconomics. She's terrified she's going to lose her spot on the honor roll."

Caden looked bored. He picked up his pen and spun it between his fingers. "Sucks for her."

Alma reached out. She gently placed her fingertips on the back of Caden's hand, stopping the spinning pen.

Caden's eyes snapped to her hand.

"You're so good at math, Caden," Alma said. She looked directly into his eyes, widening her own to look admiring and helpless. "You always understand the formulas before I do."

Caden's chest puffed out slightly. His posture straightened.

"It's not that hard," he bragged.

"It is for her," Alma pressed. "She's too shy to ask the teacher. If you could just look at her homework... just point her in the right direction. It would mean the world to me."

She paused, letting her hand linger on his skin for one more second before pulling it back.

"If she stops crying all night," Alma added in a hushed whisper, "I'd actually have the energy to hang out with you more. Just the two of us."

The bait was set.

Caden's eyes lit up at the promise of more alone time. His ego was stroked by her praise.

"Yeah, alright," Caden said easily. "Tell her to bring her book tomorrow."

Beneath the table, Alma uncurled her fists. Her palms were sweaty. The first seed was planted.

An hour later, they packed up their bags and walked out of the library.

The autumn wind was sharp.

Alma saw Bridgett standing alone by the bus stop. Bridgett was shivering in a thin cardigan, looking miserable.

Alma turned to Caden. She let a bright, sweet smile cross her face.

"We should go to the downtown neon roller rink this weekend," Alma suggested. "You, me, and a few people. It would be fun."

Caden smiled back. "Sounds good."

"Let's invite Bridgett," Alma said casually. "She needs to get out of the dorm. It'll cheer her up."

Caden was already thinking about holding Alma's hand on the skating floor. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Sure. Whatever you want," he said.

Caden turned and walked toward the student parking lot, his keys jingling in his hand.

Alma stood on the concrete steps. She watched his broad back retreat.

The sweet smile vanished from her face. Her eyes turned as cold and sharp as broken glass.

The trap was built. Now, she just needed to push them in.

The heavy bass of the pop music vibrated through the wooden floorboards of the neon roller rink.

Multi-colored strobe lights swept across the dark room, painting the faces of the teenagers in flashes of pink, green, and blue. The air smelled of cheap pizza and floor wax.

Alma sat on a padded bench in the staging area. She pulled the laces of her rented brown leather roller skates tight and tied them in a double knot.

Caden stood up next to her. He rolled smoothly on his skates, looking completely at ease.

Bridgett stood on the other side of the bench. She wore tight denim jeans and a cropped white sweater. She was gripping the metal railing with both hands. Her knees wobbled. She kept stealing nervous glances at Caden's profile.

Caden held his hand out to Alma.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes focused entirely on her.

Alma smiled. She took his hand and stood up. The wheels of her skates hit the smooth wooden floor.

She took one step forward.

Suddenly, she twisted her right foot sharply inward. She let her knee buckle.

"Ah!" Alma cried out.

She collapsed back onto the padded bench. She grabbed her right ankle with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut in a mask of intense pain.

Caden dropped to one knee instantly. The wheels of his skates spun against the floor.

"Alma! What happened?" he asked, his voice panicked. His hands hovered over her ankle.

"My ankle," Alma gasped, forcing her breathing to turn shallow. "I twisted it on the stairs last month. I think I just aggravated the old injury."

She winced, biting her lower lip hard.

"Take the skates off," Caden ordered. "I'm driving you home right now."

"No!" Alma said quickly. She reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Please, Caden. Don't ruin the night. I just need to sit down for a bit. I'll get a soda and put some ice on it."

She looked up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

"I don't want to ruin Bridgett's night," Alma said. She shifted her gaze to Bridgett, who was still clinging to the railing.

Alma gently pushed Caden's arm.

"Go skate with her," Alma whispered, her voice soft and encouraging. "She's been looking forward to this all week. Please? For me?"

Caden frowned. He looked at Bridgett, then back at Alma. He hated the idea of leaving her side.

But Alma's pleading eyes were impossible for his ego to refuse. He wanted to be the good guy.

"Fine," Caden sighed. "But if it hurts worse, we leave."

Alma nodded gratefully. She unlaced her skates and slipped her sneakers back on. She limped heavily toward the concession stand.

She bought a large cola packed with ice. She walked over to a dark booth at the edge of the rink and slid into the vinyl seat.

She took a sip of the cold soda. The ice chilled her throat.

She stopped limping. She sat perfectly still. Her eyes locked onto the rink like a sniper looking through a scope.

Out on the floor, Bridgett was struggling. She moved stiffly, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance.

Caden skated a few feet away from her. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked bored and annoyed. He wasn't helping her at all.

Alma pulled her cell phone from her pocket. The screen illuminated her face in the dark booth.

She opened her messages and typed a text to Caden.

She looks terrified out there. Go hold her hand so she doesn't fall. My knight in shining armor.

She hit send.

Across the rink, Caden felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out.

Alma watched his face under the flashing strobe lights. She saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk when he read the text.

He put the phone away. He skated smoothly over to Bridgett.

He reached out and offered her his hand.

Bridgett froze. Her face turned a bright, violent shade of red. She looked at his hand like it was a winning lottery ticket. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she placed her hand in his.

Caden closed his fingers around hers. He pulled her slightly closer, guiding her movements to match his rhythm.

The physical distance between them vanished.

Bridgett looked up at his face. Her eyes were wide, completely lost in the fantasy of his touch.

Alma took another slow sip of her soda. The condensation from the plastic cup dripped onto her fingers.

Holding hands was a good start. But it wasn't enough to break the loyalty of a roommate. She needed a catalyst. She needed a physical shock.

Alma scanned the crowded rink.

Her eyes locked onto a group of four teenage boys. They were skating backward at high speed, weaving recklessly through the slower skaters. They were laughing loudly, completely ignoring the rules.

Alma tracked their trajectory. She looked at Caden and Bridgett's position near the center of the floor.

She calculated the speed and the angle.

The reckless boys were ten yards away. Five yards.

Alma stood up from the booth. She took a deep breath.

"Caden!" Alma screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her voice pierced through the heavy bass of the music.

Caden's head snapped toward the sound. His body twisted instinctively toward the booths.

He stopped paying attention to the rink.

A split second later, the lead boy skating backward slammed directly into Bridgett's shoulder.

The impact was violent.

Bridgett let out a sharp, terrified shriek. Her skates flew out from under her. She pitched forward, falling face-first toward the hard wooden floor.

Alma stood perfectly still in the shadows. She didn't blink. She waited for gravity to do its job.