I hadn’t noticed Lark moving with me as if she’s attached. “He’s not worth it,” she says. “None of this is. Why are we even fighting?”

He says, “Their motives will always outwit your good intentions.”

Sighing even louder, my girl’s lost her patience. “All you are is one good quote. This isn’t about the parties or your drugs. This is about you hating him for no other reason than his family is rich.”

The girl with Dane smacks her gum, and then asks, “How rich?”

Losing it, Lark pushes off me and stomps to the path that divides us. “Mia, why are you with Dane?”

“He’s supposed to be taking me to dinner.” She rubs her stomach. “The baby and I are hungry.”

Amanda throws her arms in the air. “Hold up. You’re pregnant?”

Mia nods eagerly. “Two months.”

Dane comes behind her and wraps his arms around her middle. “Surprise.”

The five of us stand in complete silence. I’m not sure what Lark and Amanda are thinking or what I should be doing. My ribs hurt from the kick, probably bruised by his low fucking blow. No man with integrity kicks someone when they’re down. But that kick is why his ass ended up on the ground.

Amanda asks, “Is it Dane’s?”

“Amanda,” Lark cautions.

But Mia grunts and stamps her feet. Whipping around, she grabs the front of Dane’s shirt and shakes him. “I told you they wouldn’t be supportive. I told you,” she screams.

Nothing about this situation is good, but an even worse feeling settles in my stomach. I have nothing to protect Lark except myself. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to keep her safe, but getting her out of here is best.

I take hold of Lark’s hand and pull her back a few inches at first and then a couple of feet. I’ve seen a lot of fights over the years, but something in that girl’s eyes is unhinged. No way do I want Lark anywhere near her line of fire.

Mia’s still yelling about some guy named Steve she could have dated when I make intentional eye contact with Amanda, silently warning her to get back. She doesn’t hesitate and moves closer to the front door.

Screamer turns back, facing Amanda, and says, “It’s his baby. Why would he give me this if it weren’t his?” Tugging back the front of her coat, she reveals a hard-to-miss low-cut orange shirt that fits like a second skin. But it’s not the coat we’re all staring at. It’s the pin she’s wearing. “It’s real diamonds,” she hisses, “and more than you bitches will ever get.”

I know what that is. I saw it once in the photo in Lark’s bedroom. It’s distinctive in shape, and though she glossed over it, she said it was stolen from her home. If I recognize it, Lark definitely does.

Fuck.

I catch hold of Lark’s arms just as she pounces. “Where did you get that?” she shouts, swinging her arms like a wildcat.