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.

The wrought-iron gates of the elite academy towered over them, flanked by stone pillars and a pristine security booth.

Dasia stopped on the sidewalk. She pulled her hand away from Landon's shoulder and shoved it deep into her hoodie pocket. She tilted her chin toward the entrance.

"Go," she said simply.

Landon opened his mouth to thank her, but a loud burst of laughter interrupted him.

Five boys wearing tailored blazers strolled out of the campus gates, blocking the sidewalk.

Dasia's eyes swept over them lazily, but then her gaze locked onto the boy in the center. Her pupils contracted to pinpricks.

Declan Hayes.

He was the substitute player for Glory. The one who had orchestrated the trap in the game that ruined Gerald's reputation. The one who smiled while Gerald's hand was crushed.

The blood in Dasia's veins turned to liquid fire. Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she clamped her jaw shut, forcing the murderous rage down into the pit of her stomach. Her face remained a mask of dead calm.

Declan stopped laughing. He stared at Dasia, his eyes widening in recognition. Then, a nasty, arrogant smirk spread across his face.

He pushed past his friends and strutted right up to Dasia, looking her up and down with exaggerated disgust.

"Well, well, well," Declan announced, his voice loud enough to draw stares from passing students. "If it isn't Gerald. The useless dog who got kicked out of Glory."

Landon gasped. He shrank behind Dasia's legs, terrified by the sudden malice.

Dasia stood perfectly still. She didn't blink. She didn't breathe faster. She just stared at Declan like he was a corpse.

Declan hated that look. He expected Gerald to cower, to look away in shame like he always did.

Declan raised his hand and aggressively poked Dasia's shoulder. "What's the matter? Hand too crippled to play, so now you're babysitting rich kids for lunch money?"

The second Declan's finger touched her hoodie, Dasia moved.

Her left hand snapped up faster than a striking snake. She grabbed Declan's extended index finger and bent it backward with brutal force.

A sickening pop echoed in the quiet street.

Declan shrieked. His knees buckled from the blinding pain, dropping him toward the pavement.

Dasia didn't let him fall. Her right hand shot out and grabbed the knot of his expensive silk tie. She yanked upward, lifting him off his feet.

With a violent shove, she slammed Declan's back against the rough brick wall of the gate pillar. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs with a heavy thud.

Declan's friends yelled and stepped forward to help.

Dasia slowly turned her head. She shot them a look so dark, so filled with pure, unhinged violence, that all four boys froze in their tracks.

She turned back to Declan. She leaned in close. The shadow of her hood fell over his face.

"Touch me again," Dasia whispered, her voice a raspy, demonic scrape, "and I will break every single finger on your hand."

Declan stared into her pitch-black eyes. He couldn't breathe. The tie was strangling him, but the sheer terror paralyzing his heart was worse. This wasn't the weak, compromising Gerald he knew. This was a monster.

Dasia released his tie. She wiped her fingers on her jeans, her face twisting with revulsion.

Declan slid down the brick wall, coughing violently and clutching his throat.

A crowd of students had gathered. Smartphones were out, camera flashes blinking as they recorded the aftermath.

Dasia ignored the cameras. She looked down at Landon, her voice instantly returning to a calm, flat tone. "Let's go find your brother."

Landon swallowed hard. He nodded frantically, grabbed the edge of her hoodie, and pulled her through the gates.

Behind them, Declan finally caught his breath. Humiliated and furious, he screamed at her retreating back.

"You think you're tough? !" Declan roared. "You're just a pathetic loser! What, did you come here to beg one of our rich students for a handout because Glory kicked you to the curb, you disgusting creep? !"

Dasia's boots paused for a fraction of a second at the name "King."

She didn't turn around. She pulled her hood down lower and walked deeper into the enemy territory.