Dasia looked at the poster by her boots. The corner of her mouth twitched under the mask.

She bent down. Her long fingers pinched the edge of the glossy paper. She lifted it off the filthy floor.

Fifty feet away, Alex glanced over his shoulder. He saw Dasia holding the poster. A smug, victorious sneer stretched across his face.

"Look at that," Alex said loudly, making sure Carlton heard him. "I told you he was just a psycho fan. Acting tough, and now he's picking up your trash like a good little dog."

Carlton stopped walking. He turned his head slightly. His blue eyes locked onto Dasia through the thinning crowd.

Felix groaned from the bench. "Are you crazy? Drop that!"

Dasia didn't look at Felix. She didn't look at Carlton.

Her hands moved in a blur. She crushed the thick, expensive poster into a tight, jagged ball. The sound of tearing paper echoed sharply.

She raised her arm. With a flick of her wrist, she launched the paper ball through the air.

It sailed over the heads of two passing commuters and dropped perfectly into the center of a hazardous waste bin three meters away.

"Trash belongs in the trash," Dasia said. Her tone was flat, stating a simple fact.

Alex's face flushed a violent, angry red. He looked like he had been slapped across the face.

Carlton's grip on his silver lighter tightened until his knuckles turned white. The disgust in his eyes ignited into a predatory, burning anger.

Dasia shoved her hands back into her pockets. She turned her back on the King of e-sports and walked toward the exit doors.

Felix shrieked, scrambling off the bench and sprinting after her.

The taxi ride to the Upper East Side was a nightmare.

Felix screamed until his voice gave out. He slammed his hands against the back of the driver's seat, accusing Dasia of destroying her brother's life and his own career. "And why the hell are we going to this preppy high school? !" Felix shrieked. "You are a disgraced pro now! You should be hiding!" Dasia kept her eyes on the window. She had made a promise to Gerald. She would finish his senior year and secure the diploma he had worked so hard for, maintaining his cover no matter how much she loathed the place.

Dasia pulled a pair of cheap wired earphones from her pocket. She shoved them into her ears and cranked the volume on her phone to the maximum.

Heavy metal guitars screamed against her eardrums. She closed her eyes.

The image of her twin brother, Gerald, flashed behind her eyelids. She saw his hands covered in blood, his face pale as his team threw him out into the rain.

Her hands, hidden inside her sleeves, curled into tight fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms until the skin broke. The sharp pain grounded her, keeping the violent rage from boiling over.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi jerked to a stop outside a massive wrought-iron gate.

Dasia ripped the earphones out. She pushed the door open. The bright afternoon sun made her squint.

Felix rolled down the window. "Listen to me! This prep school is full of rich kids. Keep your head down. Do not cause trouble!"

Dasia slammed the door shut in his face. She adjusted the strap of her keyboard bag and walked onto the campus.

The hallways of the prep school were crowded. The moment Dasia stepped inside, the chatter died down.

Students stared at the dark, brooding boy in the oversized hoodie. A group of bullies who used to shove Gerald into lockers froze, intimidated by the cold, murderous aura radiating from her. They stepped aside, clearing a path.

Dasia found Gerald's locker. She spun the combination dial from memory. Click. The metal door swung open.

"Holy crap! Gerald? Is that you, bro?"

A loud, obnoxious voice echoed behind her.

Dasia turned her head. A boy with bleached blonde hair stood there, his jaw hanging open. Cody Brogan. Gerald's only friend in this hellhole.

Cody circled her, his eyes wide. He reached out to touch her chopped hair.

Dasia shot him a look so cold his hand snapped back to his side.

"Did you go dark after getting kicked off the team?" Cody whispered, vibrating with excitement. "Because it looks badass. Good timing, too. We have a massive fight in the parking lot after school."

Dasia shoved a textbook into the locker and slammed the door shut. The metal banged loudly.

She looked at Cody. A dark, bloodthirsty smile curved her lips.

"A fight?" Dasia said softly. "Perfect."

The afternoon sun baked the classroom, casting long shadows across Dasia's desk.

She rested her chin on her hand, spinning a yellow pencil between her fingers. The history teacher droned on about the Industrial Revolution.

Cody sat at the next desk, sweating. He slid a crumpled piece of paper onto Dasia's notebook. It was a crude drawing of the parking lot with stick figures showing their "strategy."

Dasia glanced at the childish scribbles. She picked up the paper, crumpled it into a tight ball, and flicked it with her thumb. It bounced off the wall and landed perfectly in the trash can in the corner.

Cody panicked. He leaned over, his voice a frantic hiss. "Dude, the guys we're fighting are from the vocational school. They bring weapons. They fight dirty."

Dasia let out a slow, bored yawn.

Cody sank back into his chair, groaning. He thought his friend had lost his mind.

The shrill scream of the final bell pierced the air.

Dasia dropped the pencil into her bag. She slung the strap over her shoulder and stood up. Her movements were fluid and completely relaxed.

She walked down the hallway with Cody trailing behind her. Girls whispered as she passed, and boys glared, but no one stepped in her way.

They pushed through the heavy metal fire doors at the back of the school.

The cold wind hit her face, carrying the smell of exhaust fumes and old asphalt. In the far corner of the parking lot, ten guys in leather jackets and ripped jeans were waiting.

The leader, a massive guy with a shaved head, slapped an aluminum baseball bat against his palm. When he saw Cody and Dasia, he threw his head back and laughed.

Cody swallowed hard. His knees shook, but he stepped in front of Dasia, raising his hands to talk them down.

The leader pointed the tip of the bat right at Dasia's face.

"Well, look who it is," the leader sneered. "The trash that got kicked out of Glory. What's wrong, Gerald? Your right hand is crippled, so now your brain is broken too?"

The air around Dasia dropped ten degrees.

The mention of her brother's ruined hand triggered something dark inside her. A physical, suffocating pressure radiated from her body.

She reached out her left hand and pushed Cody aside. She dropped her heavy bag onto the concrete. It hit with a loud thud.

"Who did you call trash?" Dasia asked. Her voice was a whisper, but it carried a terrifying, icy weight.

The leader's face flushed with anger. He gripped the bat with both hands, raised it high, and swung it directly at Dasia's skull. The metal whistled through the air.

Cody squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.

Dasia didn't blink. She tilted her head a fraction of an inch. The bat sliced through the empty air, ruffling the edge of her hood.

Before the leader could pull the bat back, Dasia exploded forward.

Her left hand shot out like a viper. She clamped her fingers around the leader's wrist and twisted violently.

A sickening crack echoed across the lot. The leader dropped the bat and let out a high-pitched shriek of agony.

Dasia caught the bat with her left hand before it hit the ground. In the same fluid motion, she pivoted on her left foot and drove her right heel into the man's stomach.

The impact lifted the two-hundred-pound guy off his feet. He flew backward and crashed onto the hood of a sedan.

The remaining nine guys froze in shock. Then, they roared and rushed her all at once.

Dasia moved like a ghost. She vaulted onto the hood of a Ford pickup truck, using the high ground.

As two guys lunged at her legs, she didn't jump. The tight bandages binding her chest restricted her breathing and core flexibility, making flashy aerial moves impossible. Instead, she dropped her center of gravity, planting her hands on the hood, and swept her right leg in a brutal, grounded arc that shattered their kneecaps. They collapsed, gasping for air.

She landed lightly on the concrete. A guy swung a pipe at her back. She ducked, spun, and drove her left elbow straight into his solar plexus. He dropped like a stone, vomiting onto the asphalt.

It took exactly three minutes.

Ten bodies littered the parking lot, groaning and writhing in pain.

Dasia stood in the center of the carnage. Her breathing was perfectly even. She tossed the aluminum bat. It clattered loudly against the pavement near the leader's face.

Cody was pressed against a car door, his jaw hanging open. He stared at her like she was an alien.

Dasia bent down and picked up her bag. She brushed a speck of dirt off her sleeve.

She looked at the bleeding guys on the ground.

"Scram," she commanded.

The gang of bullies scrambled to their feet. They dragged their injured leader and sprinted out of the parking lot, terrified of the monster in the black hoodie.

The wind howled across the empty asphalt. The metallic smell of blood hung in the air.

Cody finally found his voice. He let out a wild whoop and ran toward Dasia, throwing his arms wide for a hug.

Dasia shifted her weight and lifted her heavy bag, using it as a shield. Cody slammed into the canvas instead of her chest.

"Holy shit!" Cody yelled, bouncing back. "That roundhouse kick! Did you secretly train with monks? What happened to you?"

Dasia ignored him. Her ears twitched.

Beneath the sound of Cody's yelling, she heard a faint, rhythmic sound. A soft sniffle. It was coming from the undercarriage of a black SUV parked three spots away.

Her muscles instantly tensed. She dropped her bag and moved silently toward the vehicle, her footsteps making zero noise on the pavement.

Cody slapped a hand over his mouth, terrified that another gang member was hiding.

Dasia crouched down and peered behind the massive rear tire.

It wasn't a thug with a weapon. It was a little boy, maybe seven years old. He wore a pristine, tailored uniform from the elite prep school across the street.

The boy was clutching a high-end handheld gaming console to his chest. Tears streamed down his chubby cheeks. He stared at Dasia with wide, terrified eyes.

The violent aura surrounding Dasia vanished. She let out a slow breath, releasing the tension in her shoulders.

The boy shrank back against the tire. The console slipped from his hands and clattered onto the dirty asphalt.

Dasia lowered herself onto one knee, bringing her eyes level with his so she wouldn't tower over him.

She reached out with her long, pale fingers and picked up the console. The screen showed a "Game Over" screen on a difficult boss fight.

Her thumbs flew over the buttons in a blur. Within ten seconds, the boss exploded into pixels. The "Victory" banner flashed.

She handed the console back to the boy.

"The bad guys are gone," Dasia said. She softened her raspy voice, making it as gentle as she could. "You're safe."

Landon stared at the victory screen, then looked up at Dasia's sharp, handsome face. The fear in his eyes melted away, replaced by absolute awe.

"Are you... are you a pro gamer?" Landon sniffled, wiping his nose with his expensive sleeve. "You fight better than my brother does in his games!"

Dasia's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second at the mention of pro gaming. She stood up.

"I'm not," Dasia said. "Go home. It's not safe here."

She turned to walk away.

A small, warm hand clamped down on the fabric of her hoodie.

Dasia stopped. She looked down. Landon was gripping her clothes like his life depended on it.

"I'm lost," Landon said, his lower lip trembling. "My driver went to get coffee and I wandered off. Can you take me to the rich school across the street? My brother is there."

Cody waved his hands frantically behind Dasia's back, mouthing, No! Don't go over there! The elite school was off-limits to public school kids.

Dasia looked at Landon's red, freezing nose. A sudden memory hit her-her brother Gerald, crying in his room after being bullied when they were kids.

A painful knot formed in her chest. The ice around her heart cracked just a little.

"Fine," Dasia sighed. "Stay close."

Landon cheered. He glued himself to her side, his small shoulder brushing against her leg.

Dasia turned to Cody. "Go home. Don't follow me."

Her tone left no room for argument. Cody nodded rapidly and sprinted away.

Dasia and Landon walked down the sidewalk toward the massive iron gates of the elite academy. The setting sun cast long, orange shadows behind them.

Landon didn't stop talking. He bragged about how amazing his older brother was, even though he had a terrible temper.

Dasia kept her hands in her pockets, offering only a low "Mm" in response.

As they crossed the street, a sports car sped around the corner, ignoring the crosswalk.

Dasia's arm shot out. She grabbed Landon by the collar and yanked him hard against her side, shielding him with her body as the car roared past.

Landon buried his face in her hoodie. He smelled the clean scent of laundry detergent. He looked up at Dasia's sharp jawline, completely convinced that this dark, scary boy was his guardian angel.