He dropped to one knee, and a sharp hiss cut through his teeth as pain shot up his leg. It burned hot, like fire heating through his muscle and bone, leaving him dizzy.

When he looked down, the sight made his stomach turn. His sock already soaked through with blood, thick and sticky, trickling over his shoe into the dirt.

And there it was. The thing that did it.

A broken bottle shard, jagged and gleaming in the grass like it was proud of itself.

For a second, he just stared. The noise of the field around him faded to a dull hum, and all he could hear was his own breath, ragged and uneven.

Then came the shouting.

“Hey! Somebody help him!”

“Oh God, he’s bleeding. Someone calls it in!”

In a blink, students were everywhere, running toward him, kneeling, crowding. Someone pressed a sweatshirt hard against the gash, and he flinched.

“You’re alright, just keep still. Don’t try to get up yet, okay? You’re losing a lot of blood, man.”

Another voice was shouting into a phone somewhere over his head. “Yes! Emergency line. By the field at the main gate. He’s down bad. Hurry up!”

Blake clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he gritted. His voice was low, hard.

But when he shifted to stand, his good leg buckled, his vision blurred really bad, and the earth tilted sideways.

“Don’t be stupid,” someone snapped, pushing his shoulder gently. “You move; you’ll rip it worse.”

The crowd kept growing, voices muttering around him.

And then, just like that, it all went quiet.

Two men in black suits appeared, tall and cold, parting the students like water.

Sir Cade’s men.

Nobody said a word as they crouched and slid their arms under Blake, lifting him easily.

Even through the pain, Blake felt his teeth clench tighter. His father’s damn guards. Always showing up like they owned him.

He tried to twist free, but they didn’t even flinch.

They were halfway to the black car when a high, sharp siren cut through the congested air.

“Woooooow… woooow… woooow…”

The ambulance screeched up to the curb, scattering the kids still in the way.

Blake forced his eyes open, his voice hoarse.

“No,” he rasped, weakly pushing against the guards’ grip. “Don’t… take me out of here. School clinic’s enough. If you drive me all the way into town I’ll bleed more. Here. Take me here.”

Sir Cade stood by his car, arms folded, his face carved out of stone. He stared at his son for a long, long moment before he finally exhaled through his nose and raised one hand.

“Fine.”

The guards adjusted course, carrying Blake straight into the waiting ambulance.

The doors slammed shut, and the siren wailed back to life as the van peeled off.

Behind them, Cade barked at his driver: “Wait. Let them go ahead. I’m not chasing that noise. Give them few minutes.”

The driver stayed quiet, keeping his hands tight on the wheel until the siren faded into the distance, then started the car. He could literally hear Cade’s knuckles cracking. But when he reached to turn it off again, Cade’s voice cut the air, sharper than a blade.

“You idiot. Keep driving.”

The car glided forward, thick silence hanging between them.

***

“TIIIIIAAAAAA!”

Annet’s scream shot through the quiet dorm, startling Tia out of her sleep.

“What the hell is your problem?” Tia groaned; her face still half-buried in her pillow.

But the tone of Annet’s voice made her fidget mid-turn.

Annet was standing in the middle of the room, clutching her phone with white knuckles, her face pale.

She opened her mouth once before she managed to choke anything out.

“We’re screwed.”

Tia blinked. “…What?”

Annet swallowed hard, thinking for a brief second about her father the day she left home. Proud, smiling, telling her to go make something of herself.

She didn’t even realize she was clenching her jaw until Tia snapped again.

“Spit it out!”

Annet finally tossed the phone onto Tia’s bed. “Read.”

Tia’s eyes skimmed the article, then became still.

There was Maria’s name. Clear as day. And below it. Her father’s name. General So-and-So. Military attaché. Influential. Respected. Feared.

Tia’s face went stiff. “…You’re joking. Right?”

Annet just shook her head.

Tia stood there for one long beat, then spun on her heel and smacked Lilian on the backside so hard it made her yelp.

“Ow! What the hell?!”

“Speak Ann…!” Tia barked, ignoring her.

Annet cuts in, voice sharper than usual.

“Leave her. Do you want to hurt her too? You dragged us into this, and now look where we are. Apologize to her. Or figure it out yourself.”

Tia scoffed and flopped back onto her bed, dragging the blanket over her head.

“Don’t make me laugh,” she muttered. “You really think a name on some article scares me? They’re not gonna kick me out over her. Have you forgotten whom my father is?”

But her voice wavered just enough at the end to give her away.

Annet and Lilian exchanged a look.

Annet sighed. “Fine. Sorry. Now come out of there.”

“Yeah… I apologize instead,” Lilian added quietly.

Tia finally peeked out, a thin, smug smile sliding back onto her face.

“Tell me everything.”

Annet scrolled her phone again.

“Press says her dad’s men swarmed the clinic. Suits all over the place. Fierce. Everyone’s talking about it already.”

Lilian chipped in, “What if it wasn’t her?”

Annet shot her a look. “Who else? Why else are we still getting called in? You think doctors really believed your little asthma lie? They’re not stupid.”

Tia didn’t answer, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Annet set her phone down with a sharp smack. “They’re gonna figure it out. And when they do? Her father won’t let it go easy. Trust me.”

Tia finally muttered: “We stick to the story. That’s it. We thought it was asthma. End of story. No cracks.”

Both girls nodded, but the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.

***

Blake sat on the edge of a thin bed, watching the nurse finish tying the gauze around his shin.

“There,” she said. “It’s clean now. Be more careful next time.”

He was already rising. “Can I go?”

She frowned. “No. Tetanus shot later. Observation …”

But he was halfway to the door already.

The nurse raised her voice. “Doctor! Ward eight! He’s trying to leave!”

Sir Cade’s guards stormed into the room at once.

“Hold him,” Cade said coldly from behind them.

Blake stopped, glaring at the nearest guard.

“You lay a hand on me and I swear I’ll hurt myself” he started, voice low but with authority.

They hesitated. That was all he needed.

He darted past them, limping down the hall.

He shoved through the next door, only to freeze in his tracks.

It was a ward full of startled girls.

Murmurs rose around him. Blankets were tugged higher. Someone snorted.

He took a step back. “Sorry. Wrong room…”

Then a faint voice comes through the awkward silence.

“…Blake…”

He turned on his heel.

There, in the far corner bed, lay the young lady who had called him.

Her dark hair spilled across the pillow, an IV drip needle resting gently against her hand.

Her gaze met his. Steady, and weary.

“… The girl in the garden?”