SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

Before we could walk in, a familiar voice of someone stops us.

"Hey! It's the girl who almost drowned." Ace's playful voice breaks the tension in my nerves as he stops in front of us. He's dressed like the stereotypical bad boy, with his midnight black hair slicked back, and chains in his Ravenscroft High pants, his leather boots shone against the morning sun, as his smirk almost blinds me.

"Don't call her that," Amara says, staring at him, as her ...