Jay launches forward like a spring uncoiling, fist connecting with Connor's face. The impact sounds like thunder, sending Connor reeling into the crowd.

"Nora, wait!" Camilla's voice slices through the noise, pulling me from the red haze. My fists drop instantly as I glare at Connor and Evan through sweat and blood.

"Nate, Nora's leaving!" Camilla calls again, desperation threading through her voice.

I turn just in time to see Nora pushing through the crowd like a ghost, dark hair disappearing into the sea of bodies.

Connor sneers from the wall, wiping blood from his split lip. "Get the fuck out of here, Sullivan," he spits, crimson staining his teeth.

But I'm already moving, focused on Nora, everything else falling away. The fight, the pain, the rage—none of it matters anymore. Only she does.

"Nora!" I call after her, my voice cracking in the cold night air like ice breaking.

She doesn't stop, shoulders shaking visibly as she walks faster, pushing past people like she's trying to outrun something darker than just this night. The distance between us stretches like an endless chasm, and for the first time tonight, I feel real fear—not of fists or blood, but of losing her in ways that can't be fixed with violence.

By the time I catch up, she's leaning against the car, arms wrapped tightly around herself like she's holding something broken together. The streetlamp casts harsh shadows across her face, making her look fragile. She won't look at me, but her trembling makes my heart ache like someone's carved out something vital.

"Nora," I say again, softer now, trying to steady my breath. Adrenaline still courses through me making my bloodied hands shake, but I force myself to move slowly, carefully, like approaching a wounded bird.

When I reach for her wrist, she flinches away sharply like my touch burns. It stops me cold, her reaction cutting deeper than any punch tonight, deeper than glass or bone could reach.

"Don't—" she starts, voice trembling like leaves in a storm. She finally turns, and the light illuminates her tear-streaked face like rain on glass. The sight guts me worse than any hit I've taken. Her eyes look to my face, expression twisting with something complex and painful.

Fear? Guilt? Pain? All of them tangled together like thorny vines.

"You're hurt," she whispers, the words falling between us like broken pieces of something we can't put back together.

"It's nothing," I say quickly, even as my jaw throbs like a second heartbeat and my knuckles sting. Blood dries on my skin like war paint, but none of that matters.

"Are you okay?" The question feels inadequate for what I see raging behind her eyes.

She shakes her head, tears falling faster now like stars breaking free.

"I can't do this, Nate," she says, voice breaking like glass under pressure. "I can't⁠⁠—"