𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅...

The hallway buzzed with the usual morning chaos—lockers slamming, laughter echoing off the linoleum floors, the smell of stale coffee and teenage hormones hanging in the air.

Ryder Espinosa

Well, well, well...

That voice. Low, drawling, too familiar. It stopped Y/n cold.

Ryder Espinosa

If it isn't my favorite little bitch.

Henry Smith

Morning, sunshine.

Y/n tried to sidestep, but Ryder shifted, blocking the path. Henry mirrored him on the other side. A wall of denim and cologne.

Ryder Espinosa

looks Y/n up and down, slow and deliberate Where you off to in such a hurry? Ain't gotta second for your old best friend?

The gap between them closed. Lockers pressed against Y/n's back. Ryder's shadow fell over everything.