Chapter 2

Professor Albright' s voice was a steady anchor in the storm raging inside me. "Of course, Alaina. We'll make it happen. Just tell me what you need."

"Thank you," I whispered. I felt a pang of guilt for worrying him, but the desperation was a physical weight on my chest.

Before I could say more, my phone screen flickered and died. Out of battery. Of course.

The journey back to the apartment I shared with Cooper was a blur. My body moved on autopilot, carrying me through the city streets like a ghost.

When I finally reached the door, I saw the lights were dim inside. I pushed the door open, a sliver of irrational hope flickering in my chest. Maybe he had come home early. Maybe he was waiting for me.

But the apartment was empty. The silence was heavy, filled with the ghosts of our shared life. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a scent that once brought me comfort but now made my stomach clench.

I collapsed onto the sofa, the exhaustion hitting me all at once. Every muscle in my body ached. I curled into a ball, the plush cushions offering no comfort.

Tears I didn't know I had left began to fall, silent and hot, soaking the fabric beneath my cheek.

On the walk home, a group of men had harassed me on a dark street. Their leering faces and crude words had sent a familiar terror through me. In that moment, I had wished for Cooper. I had craved the false sense of safety he provided. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow.

Sleep finally claimed me, a black, dreamless void.

I woke to a sharp, stinging pain in my leg.

My eyes flew open. The living room light was on, blindingly bright. I squinted, trying to make sense of the scene.

Kenya Snow was kneeling beside me, a pair of tweezers in her hand, digging into a gash on my shin.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, trying to pull my leg away.

She looked up, her expression one of pure innocence. "I'm helping you, silly. You were bleeding."

She held up the tweezers, a small piece of gravel pinched in the tips. "You must have scraped yourself. I'm just cleaning the wound."

My gaze fell to my leg. The gash was deep, far worse than a simple scrape. And what she was doing... it wasn't cleaning. It was clumsy, almost malicious. I was pre-med. I knew this wasn't how you treated a wound.

"Stop," I said, my voice sharp. "Get away from me."

I scrambled back on the sofa, putting as much distance between us as possible. The sight of her, so close, touching me, made my skin crawl. All I could see were her laughing eyes from my memories of overhearing the party.

Her face twisted in anger. "Fine! Be that way. I was just trying to help. Cooper's right, you've gotten so bitchy lately."

Just then, the front door opened, and Cooper walked in. He saw Kenya' s pouty face first.

"What's wrong, Ken?" he asked, his voice soft and soothing.

He walked over and put his arm around her, completely ignoring me.

Then his eyes fell on me, huddled on the other end of the sofa. He noted my pale face, the tear tracks on my cheeks.

His expression shifted to one of feigned concern. "Alaina, baby, you're hurt."

He moved toward me, his hand outstretched. "Let me see. Does it hurt? Here, let me hold you."

The sight of his caring gaze, the same one I had fallen for, now made my stomach turn. I flinched away from his touch, turning my head so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"It doesn't need stitches," I said, my voice flat and cold. "It just needs to be cleaned and bandaged."

Cooper looked surprised by my tone. "Kenya was just trying to help, Alaina. She was worried about you."

He wanted me to thank her. To thank the girl who orchestrated my assault. The thought was so absurd it was almost funny.

I didn't answer him. I just stared at the wall, my jaw clenched.

Ignoring the stinging pain, I reached down and pulled the piece of gravel from my own wound with my fingers. Fresh blood welled up, dripping onto the pristine white carpet.

I stood up and walked toward my bedroom without a word.

"See?" I heard Kenya whine from behind me. "She's impossible."

"It's okay," Cooper's voice was a low murmur. "She's just upset. I'll talk to her."

I opened my bedroom door and stopped dead.

The room was different. My things were gone, replaced by Kenya's designer clothes and makeup strewn across the dresser.

Cooper appeared behind me. "Oh, right. Kenya's staying with us for a while, so I gave her your room. You can stay in the guest room for now."

He said it so casually, as if he were talking about the weather. He had given my room, our room, to her.

Kenya peeked around him, a triumphant smirk on her face.

"You don't mind, do you, Alaina?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Before I could answer, a faint, weak cry came from the corner of the room.

My eyes shot to the source of the sound. I saw a small, dark stain on the carpet. Blood.

My heart stopped.

"Sunshine?" I whispered.

I ran past them, my injured leg forgotten. In the corner, huddled in his dog bed, was my golden retriever, Sunshine. He was covered in blood, his beautiful fur matted and dark. His body was trembling, and his breathing was shallow.

He was dying.

I fell to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over his broken body, afraid to touch him, afraid to cause him more pain.

"Sunshine, baby, it's me," I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "It's gonna be okay."

But I knew it wouldn't be. I could feel the life fading from him. He managed a weak lick on my hand, his tail giving a single, feeble thump against the bed.

I remembered the day I brought him home, a tiny, clumsy puppy. He had been my shadow, my comfort, my only family after my parents died. He had licked away my tears more times than I could count. He was the one pure, good thing in my life.

My eyes scanned his body, and then I saw it. Crudely stitched wounds, angry and inflamed, crisscrossing his torso. Someone had practiced suturing on him.

A wave of agony so intense it buckled me. I couldn't breathe.

I looked up, my gaze landing on Kenya.

"You," I rasped, my voice a raw, broken thing. "You did this."

Kenya's face was a mask of indifference. She didn't even have the decency to look guilty. She just shrugged, hiding slightly behind Cooper.

"It was an accident," she said dismissively. "I was practicing my surgical skills for vet school. He wouldn't stay still. Stupid mutt."