I closed my eyes, though it didn’t matter. There was darkness all around.

He was talking to that voice inside of me, and he was right. She was there. She reared her head again. She was the firefly coming to me in the dark. She beckoned, wanting me to follow her, and that was a different seduction altogether.

I could stop it. I could stop her, but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes she was the only one with me over the years, she’d been all I had at times.

“Cross.” My hands found his waist. I could feel his stomach trembling under my touch.

“Bren.” My name was a whisper. He kissed a trail down my jawline, over my throat, lingering where my shirt met my chest. I’d worn a tank top today, and I was thankful for how low the cleavage dipped.

It was now my favorite shirt.

I ran my hands up his chest, skimming over his arms, and slipped them under his sleeves. His biceps moved, shifting under my touch, like I had awakened them.

His hand slid to the back of my neck and he held me. He straightened. I could feel his lips against my forehead, but he waited.

God.

I didn’t want to.

I liked her. Whenever she showed up, I was protected. I was shielded. She protected me from the pain, the hurt. I didn’t want to give that up.

“Bren, please.” Cross’ lips dipped back down to mine. I felt his breath. “Don’t go.”

Don’t go.

His words repeated in my head.

I felt a strength I didn’t know I had, bolstered from somewhere, flowing through me. And like an unconscious flip of a switch, the firefly was leaving again.

He’d pushed her away.

I missed her as soon as I felt her go, because I was raw once again. I was exposed.

I dropped my head to his chest. Cross wrapped his arms around me and rocked me back and forth, his hand sweeping up and down my back.

“Thank you.”

When we left that closet, we didn’t hold hands.

We walked straight and tall to the office together.

“You want me to do what?”

The new principal, Ken Brohgers, stared back at me from across his desk. They made Cross go back to class. He’d glanced to me, and I nodded, thinking it’d be fine. They said I wasn’t in trouble. That was the only reason I was okay with Cross going. There’d been too much bad shit associated with it in the past. They said I wasn’t in trouble, and this meeting was “absolutely necessary.” Only good things would come of it.

What a crock of bullshit.

Principal Brohgers was almost as opposite of Neeon as possible. Mr. N was tall, six-three, and Brohgers barely topped five three. That wasn’t true. He just looked like that sitting behind his desk. He was probably five-five when he stood up, with a head full of frizzy hair that was losing its reddish tint so it was half white at the same time. His face started off as round, then finished with a long and pointed chin. He had thick bushy eyebrows that jutted out over his eyes, which were wide-set and narrow. In his older fifties, Ken Brohgers was a thin rail of a man.

Superintendent Miller sat next to him, and they shared a look.

“Your father’s lawyer reached out to the school because he’s a part of a mentoring program,” Principal Brohgers said again. “They would like to include our school, but there are stipulations since you’re a student here. Normally you would be someone we’d ask to have included in the program—”

“No!” My decision was made before he finished.

I knew these programs. Convicts were supposed to mentor troubled kids until they went straight. It wasn’t happening. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if my father’s lawyer or anyone else thought I was troubled. That was the pot calling the kettle black.

“You guys need my brother’s permission to even be asking me this.”

“Well…” They looked at each other again.

The superintendent leaned forward this time. “That’s the purpose of this meeting. We’d like to approach your brother about the program itself.”

“Why? I already said I’m not going to do it.”

“No, no.” Principal Brohgers cleared his throat. He scooted even closer to his desk and placed his arms on top. “We’d like to work with the crews, get all of them integrated with this program.”

Horror lodged in my throat—one big ball I couldn’t swallow or spit out. I had to suffer it.

“Are you kidding me?” That was a horrible idea.

“It’s not a bad program—”

“Let me guess,” I managed, still reeling inside. “You want to fix the crews, work with the older members and have them encourage younger members to go to this prison, get mentored by a convict, and learn how to be nice. Right? No more bad crews?”

They just stared at me.

I couldn’t have been far off, so I stood up. If I didn’t get out of here, I was going to say things that would get me suspended again. Or worse.

“I have to go.” I started for the door.

“Wait!” Principal Brohgers stood as well, his hand extended as if he could physically stop me. “Don’t go. Please. We want to work with you guys. We don’t want to continue down this path.”

I stopped and turned around. “What do you mean by ‘this path’?”

Superintendent Miller scratched behind his ear, looking everywhere except at me.

“Bren.”

I heard the appeasing voice that adults used when they were about to promise you daisies, yet hand you rotten weeds.

I wasn’t going to like this, whatever it was.

He tugged at his collar. “Uh…we realize the crew system began because there was a need to uproot a power alliance at this school. While we can understand the attraction crews have for certain students, you have to understand our concern with them.”

My mouth was dry. The flame was there, a small flicker.

“Certain students?” I echoed their words.

“Troubled students.”

The flicker burst into a full-fledged fire. It was heating me up. I knew who they meant—kids like me, who had violent tendencies, who had no futures, who were going nowhere in life. Prison or six feet under. Those kids.

“That’s who you think joins crews?” I asked. “Those kind of kids.”

“Well, yeah.” The principal gave me a blank look. He had no idea how wrong that statement was.

“I see.”

The firefly returned. She flew in, bringing the darkness with her. I felt it rising, coating my insides, blanketing me. It molded with the fire. I closed my eyes a moment, letting her take over. Once she had, I couldn’t be touched. They couldn’t hurt me anymore.

I stood and began to leave.

“Bren.”

I didn’t know which one spoke. I didn’t care.

I reached for the door handle, and I left.

I didn’t turn back.

The bell must’ve rung. A line of students started to leave their classrooms.

“Bren?”

I walked right past Taz, then Tabatha and the others as they left their room. Students slowed, casting me looks of confusion, of irritation, of concern.

I ignored every single one.

I went to my locker. I got my bag and keys, and I left. I was in the parking lot when Cross shouted my name, hurrying behind me.

I didn’t want to see him. He’d try to shake her hold on me. She protected me. He just wanted me to be open to more pain. I couldn’t.

I held up a hand. “Don’t, Cross. Not this time.”

He caught up to me. “What happened?”

I kept walking. I had ten feet to go. Only ten. It seemed the length of a football field.

“Bren! Hey!”

That was Jordan. I had no doubt Zellman was with him. My crew had come for me, but I couldn’t this time. They couldn’t protect me from this like the darkness did. The darkness, that firefly, had another name, one I’d put out of my mind.

Things were better. Channing was acting like a real brother. He loved me.

My crew was with me. I was with Cross.

I should’ve been happy. I shouldn’t have any need for her, but her hold was so strong. Her hooks were in, and they weren’t letting go, not until it was safe again to come out. I opened the door of my Jeep and got inside.

“Bren, stop!”

Cross blocked me from shutting the door.

Jordan and Zellman stood behind him. But I only shoved him back and shut the door. I put my keys into the ignition. I turned. The engine came on, and I put it in reverse.