One of my pursuers grabs me from behind, wrapping their arm around my waist and yanking me back as a hand clamps over my mouth. I'm kicking now, nailing the asshole in the shins as I dig my fingernails into the thick fabric sleeves of the hoodie looking for purchase.

I'm dragged away from the safety of the dance hall and toward the woods to the left of the back door, the other hoodie wearing asshole moving forward to help contain me.

My heart is racing, and I'm cold with fear, thinking suddenly of Jenica Woodruff and wondering if she was this scared, if she fought this hard … because if she did, then I guess it doesn’t matter because I'm still going to die here tonight.

We end up in the true darkness of the forest, the thick foliage keeping the moonlight from penetrating the earthy blackness.

I'm still struggling, but it's an effort. The two people holding me are strong, and I'm not exactly an experienced martial artist. They drag me forcibly through the undergrowth, until I see it there in a small sliver of silver moonlight.

A rope.

It's hanging from a thick branch above our heads, swaying slightly in the breeze.

No. No, no, no! The boys were right: Jenica didn't commit suicide. No, she was murdered.

My struggling amps up a notch, fueled by adrenaline, and I end up slamming the attacker behind me so hard in the ribs that they grunt and briefly loosen their grip. That grunt did not sound like a man, I think, but then I'm fighting for my life here, so I don't exactly have time to analyze that right now.

There's another rustling sound from the bushes, and my heart drops. I can't fend off a third freaking attacker! But then Ranger pushes out of the bushes, and hope flares bright inside me.

He doesn't even hesitate, just throws himself at the guy in the front of me, tackling the bastard to the ground. With my renewed burst of energy, I manage to get free of the person holding me, spinning around so I have an easier time defending myself.

We grapple and end up on the forest floor, rolling around in the leaves as I struggle to keep whoever this is from getting a strong hold on me again. Grunts and cursing echo from the opposite side of the clearing, the rope swaying menacingly in the center of it all.

Finally, I manage to get my foot in the stomach of the asshole on top of me, pushing as hard as I can and sending them flying backward. They hit the ground hard, their accomplice grabbing their arm as blood drips from his face. He lifts the other person—who I'm pretty sure is a woman—up off the ground, and the two of them take off into the woods.

Ranger stands up, cursing and bleeding from a deep gash across the chest. For the briefest moment, I forget all about my secret identity and race over to him, leaving the wig on the ground behind me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, panting hard and shaking so furiously that I feel like I might just come apart at the seams and collapse. My hands touch the bloody wound in Ranger's chest, but he seems less concerned with that, and more concerned with me.

His hand comes up, and he grips my chin hard, lifting my gaze from his chest to his face. His eyes widen, and he starts cursing again.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” He releases me, and my face flushes red. “Holy shit, Carson, what the hell is wrong with you?” Ranger turns away from me, pausing when he sees the rope swinging there. I'm not sure he even noticed it before. The hot, high color in his cheeks drains away, leaving him as white as a ghost. “Jesus, what the hell is all this?”

“I don't know,” I whisper, heart racing. It hasn't escaped me that Ranger Woodruff might've just saved my life. “I came outside to get some air, saw a girl bleeding on the ground … Shit!” Grabbing Ranger's hand, I yank him back through the woods and find the blue-haired chick still lying where I left her. “Get a teacher,” I bark out, and Ranger pauses, just staring down at me like he can't believe what he's seeing.

“You want everyone to know?” he asks, gesturing at me, still breathing hard. “Maybe you should change first?”

We stare at each other, and I nod, standing up and pausing for a second.

“I … thank you, Ranger—”

“Just go,” he says, breathing hard as I take off for the cabin, pushing in the door, and grabbing my discarded hoodie from the bathroom. I slip it and my jeans on over the short dress, pulling it up so that it's hidden beneath the sweatshirt's heavy folds.

A quick scrub down with some makeup remover takes care of that, and then I'm slipping my sneakers on, changing my glasses out, and heading back outside. Ranger's right there waiting for me at the bottom of the steps, and I realize he's prioritized my safety over the girl's.

I'm not exactly sure what to think about that.

“Let's go find your dad,” he says as I grab his arm hard, feeling the hard muscles taut beneath my fingers. He looks down at me with those sapphire eyes of his, and my breath explodes in a rush. I'm not even sure what the hell I was going to say in the first place.

“Okay.” That's the only thing that'll come out. I feel numb as we work out way back across the camp, only to find out the blue-haired girl is gone. Ranger and I exchange a glance, and then we both start running, back through the woods to the clearing.

The rope is gone.

“What the fuck?” he snaps, raking his fingers through his dark hair and spinning to face me. “Tell me I'm not going crazy. There was a rope here just a few minutes ago, right?”

“There was,” I start, but I don't know what to say. Ranger's chest is still bleeding, but it doesn't seem to be too bad. That's the only real proof that anything actually happened here tonight. We're both panting so badly, and there's this charge in the air, an attraction born of danger. “We really do need to find my dad then.”

Ranger nods, looking down at me again, his face tight. I imagine that we'll probably end up having a long conversation later. For now, the danger's too real, the sight of that rope stark and awful in both our mind's eyes.

On the way back, Ranger stops at his cabin and retrieves a hoodie to hide his wound. I’m not sure why. Maybe he just doesn’t want to scare anyone?

We head to the dance hall next, and there she is, the blue-haired girl sitting in one of the chairs with a drink in hand, talking with her friends. Ranger and I exchange a look before going over to stand beside her.

“Kesha,” he says, voice hard but with the slightest hint of a quaver. She glances over her shoulder at him, grimacing slightly and reaching up a hand to touch her fingers to the side of her head. “What happened?” He gestures at her loosely. “You've got blood in your hair.” I notice he doesn't mention that we saw her lying there on the grass. Smart move.

“I don't really know. I think I tripped or something, and hit my head.” Selena reaches out a hand and gives her friend's a squeeze.

“I'll go get you some more water.” She takes the cup before glancing over to me with a raised brow. I give a slight shake of my head, and Selena moves away in a flutter of honey-blond hair.

“You tripped and hit your head?” Ranger repeats, and Kesha gives him a weird look.

“Isn't that what I just said? I appreciate the concern, but we only slept together once, Ranger. Get over yourself.” She turns back to her friends as my cheeks flush, and I try really hard not to think about what she just said.