My heart lodges in my throat, even though I know that the boys can handle themselves even better than I can. See, that’s the thing with love: it’s irrational. It makes no sense. It’s the sort of thing that makes you stay up late, holding your palm over the yellow-orange flame of a candle, just to see if it’ll burn you. Of course it will. The candle will burn you, and so will love.

I’m scorched by it, plain and simple.

The alarm goes off, this awful blaring siren that reminds of the ones used in tornado zones. It’s accompanied by an automatic message that repeats one thing over and over again: active shooter on campus, active shooter on campus.

The coast is clear for now. All the classroom doors will be locked and barred from the inside, the shades drawn, students hidden under desks or in supply closets. The world feels like it’s gone silent.

Now or never, I think to myself, because I’m not getting a better chance than this, and I’m most definitely not getting stuck in the windowless bathroom with nowhere to go and no way to defend myself. Poor Stacey Langford.

I’m going to miss that bitch.

My brain is locked into survival mode at this point. Get myself out, get one of the stashed guns, come back and save the boys. That’s not just it, Bernadette, I realize as I keep my footsteps light, moving as fast as I can without letting my soles squeak against the linoleum. You’re just like Hael. You’ve always wanted to be the good guy.

There’s a part of me that I can’t crush that wants to save Ms. Keating and our gay blond math teacher Miss Addie and even stupid ass Billie because I feel sorry for her kid.

And that’s why I couldn’t kill Kali.

Because it hurt me to look into her eyes with my hands wrapped around her throat. Not because of her. Me. I didn’t want to see someone who used to be my best friend dying underneath me in the dark woods.

I start running when I hear a door open, and then I just dive to the floor on instinct. Bullets pepper the front entryway of the school as I roll to one side and end up pressed against the door to the security office, a bank of lockers on my left protecting me from the gunman temporarily.

This is Vic’s locker, I think, glancing over at it. The same fucking locker he was standing in front of when I called out Havoc. The feeling that gives me is surreal as I shove myself up to my feet, knowing that no help is coming from the dark and empty office.

For the first time today, I managed to sneak a small switchblade on campus, right past the metal detectors and the cops and the drug dogs. Asking Cal to teach me a few tricks might’ve just saved my life. Thank fuck, because that’s the only weapon I have. That, and the pencil I accidentally took with me when Mr. Darkwood banished me from the classroom.

His body isn’t too far away from where I’m crouched, a pool of crimson spreading out beneath him. There’s a possibility that he’s still alive since his fingers keep twitching. Stacey, on the other hand … well, I just won’t look at Stacey’s body.

In a few seconds, the gunman will come into view and that’ll be my one and only chance to make a stand. I slip the knife from my back pocket, hunker down, and ready myself to lunge at this motherfucker the first chance I get.

The man appears a second later. He’s anticipating me being here, but he doesn’t expect me to throw myself forward and stab the blade into his upper thigh. He stumbles backward in a sea of blooming red as I rise up and then throw myself into his stomach. We hit the floor together as I whip the pencil from my pocket, slamming it down as hard as I can into the man’s eye.

As much as I hesitated with Kali, I can’t hesitate here.

I stand up as he bleeds and scrabbles around, reaching for the gun that got knocked away when he fell. I could’ve grabbed it, too, if another shooter hadn’t appeared from the direction of the cafeteria. Instead, I drop down, crawling for another one of the alcoves that lines this hallway. Every door is inset, with rows of lockers on either side, giving me just enough space to hide in.

The man I just stabbed is already dead, shot by his comrade in arms in his rabid attempt to shoot me.

I lean against the door, still breathing hard, knowing that even if I were to knock or scream, nobody would let me in. They don’t want a wolf inside their sheep pen. Biting my lip, I feel all of that fear and confusion just bleed out of me. They already know where you are, Bernie, so what do you have to lose?

I cup my hands around my mouth and let out a howl. It’s wordless, but I’m clearly crying Havoc here. Where are my dogs of war? That’s what I’m asking in a simple, primal sound.

My new attacker, the one who’s so fucking loyal to the GMP that he shot his injured friend in order to get to me, takes fire at me before he’s even rounded the corner enough to see where I’m at. Bullets bury themselves in the wall and the metal fronts of the lockers as I crouch down, readying myself to attempt the same trick twice.

I can hear the sound of a door opening, the faintest cry of someone howling in response to me, and then the noise of it slamming shut again. The ruckus causes the gunman to pause briefly, head whipping around to take in the new threat. I don’t wait, not even for a heartbeat’s worth of time, standing up and whipping around the corner fast enough that I’m able to get an arm around the guy’s throat before he can fire his weapon.

I hang off of him from behind, squeezing as hard as I can and letting my feet come up off the floor as he thrashes. That puts my own bodyweight into the move, giving me the extra bit of force that I need to pull this off against someone that’s so much larger than I am.

This guy is smarter than the last one though. He bends forward suddenly, trying to throw me off of his back as I lock my thick ass thighs around him and hang on for dear life—quite literally.

Two men come around the corner as we struggle … followed by four more.

That’s six plus the one I’m already choking for a grand total of seven.

Seven GMP motherfuckers up in my ragged ass school.

I am fucked. I am beyond fucked.

Then I see the blood, the flecks on the clothing of the men that’ve just appeared. They’ve already killed people. And, seeing as they’ve likely come here just to say hi to Havoc, I’m filled with this primal terror that one of the boys might be dead.

A noise like a backfiring car echoes around the hallway—the sound of a weapon without a silencer being fired. One of the GMP’s soldiers falls to the ground, bleeding from the head as the majority of the men turn to find out where the shot just came from. Another shot, another man on the ground. It’s hard for me to tell what, exactly, is going on since I’m still in the midst of a primal struggle for my life, but … I’m pretty sure I see a skeleton-masked face emerging from the hole where the ceiling vent was.

Whoever it is—let’s be honest, it’s gotta be Callum—can make a hasty retreat back into the ceiling if needed. This is a distraction meant to get me the fuck out of here. I’m at least smart enough to recognize that.

I let go of the man I’m choking and turn, hating my heels, thankful that I’m Prescott High’s most talented bitch. Don’t like running in them, and it hurts, but if need be, I’ll do it. I’d have kicked them off if they didn’t have straps.

I’m out the front door and halfway down the steps when I run into James Barrasso.