She descended the ramp at the edge of the college grounds, the soles of her shoes echoing softly against the concrete. It was quiet—too quiet—until she heard it.

Thud.

A groan.

Another thud.

The sounds grew louder as she approached the alley just beyond the fence, hidden from view. Her steps slowed. Faint, strained gasps echoed off the walls, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with flesh.

"No more... please..."

She turned the corner—and froze.

A slender guy was crumpled near the wall, his glasses cracked on the ground beside him. His lip was split, face bruised. Towering over him was Blake—the troublemaker she'd known since middle school. His posture was relaxed, but the fury in his movements was unmistakable.

"Just take me to the cops..." the boy croaked, raising a trembling hand in surrender. "If I did something wrong—just take me in..."

Blake paused.

Then he tilted his head and let out a low, humorless laugh.

"The cops?" His honey-hued eyes glinted with something dark as he looked down at the boy. "They're too busy eating donuts and washing dirty money."

He crouched, grabbed the guy by the collar, and yanked him halfway up.

"I'm just giving them a hand—cleaning up the trash, that's all."

That was the moment Blake noticed her, her breath caught in her throat.