Keenan drove his weight against Lyla's torso, forcing the air from her lungs. On the verge of blacking out, she looked into the eyes of a wild, frothing beast and found no trace of remorse or empathy. He would have his way.

Salvation arrived in the form of Jack Bentley, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He grabbed Keenan by the shoulders and hurled him aside.

Keenan hit the ground hard then rolled to his knees.

It took a moment for Lyla to comprehend that she'd been rescued. She gasped, gulping oxygen, then drew her tongue across her swollen lip. She sat up and felt the chemicals swishing around inside her skull. When she refocused on Jack, she saw his lips moving, but his words didn't make their way to her ears.

Keenan backed away and pointed an angry finger as he got to his feet. "How 'bout staying in your lane, dude?"

Jack advanced. "Put your hands on her again. Watch what happens."

She fastened her pants, steadying herself against a parked car, still trembling from the attack.

"My phone," she heaved breathlessly. "Where is my phone?

He retrieved her phone and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she murmured and tucked the phone into her jacket pocket. She got down onto one knee and seized her shoulder bag. Her makeup and mirror lay in the grass. She tossed her makeup into her canvas bag then caught a glimpse of herself in the cracked mirror.

Lyla's black eyeliner created a raccoon-like ring around her eyes. Tear tracks trailed down her freckled cheeks. She looked like a ragged freak. She lowered her head in humiliation and wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket.

"You okay?" Jack repeated a little louder.

She nodded while fishing around inside her bag. She produced her car keys.

"Where do you think you're going?" Keenan snapped at her.

"Back the hell off, dude." Jack turned up the volume. "Something about that you don't understand?"

Keenan eyed Carissa who made her way out of the shadows toward Jack.

"What happened here?" Her voice cut through the pounding music.

Jack glared at Keenan. "Somebody stepped way the hell over the line."

Lyla wished that she could have disappeared before Carissa saw her. She pulled a small clump of grass from her hair.

Carissa narrowed her eyes at Keenan. "Who is this guy?"

"She's my girl," he responded.

"I am not your girl!" Lyla fumed. "We used to..."

"You two?" Carissa's brows furrowed.

"Everything's good here." Keenan dusted the dirt from his pants. "Right, Kitten?"

Before Lyla could respond, Carissa cut in. "What is wrong with you? Go away."

Keenan gave Jack a steely glare. "Why don't you stick your nose in that sweet muffin instead of where it don't belong?"

Carissa cringed. "Ewwwwwwwww."

Jack clenched his fists. "Shut your mouth, dude. You don't want to push this any further. Trust me."

Keenan tugged at the zipper on his jacket, up and down, up and down as he assessed the situation. "Big tough jock. Screw you," he snarled. "I'm gonna get another beer." He made his wavering way back toward the farmhouse.

"You okay?" Jack rested his hand on Lyla's shoulder.

She nodded, too embarrassed to make eye contact during an uncomfortable pause that seemed to linger forever.

"You sure?"

"Come on, Jack," Carissa took his hand.

Lyla finally met his gaze. With his deep brown eyes and square jaw, Jack epitomized teenage masculinity. God, he was gorgeous.

"Somebody coming to get you?" he asked.

"No, but I'm... I'm good."

"She's fine." Carissa looped her arm around Jack's waist. "Come on. Get me a drink."

"You want us to walk you to your car?" Jack offered.

Lyla could feel Carissa's eyes like lasers. They sent a message loud and clear: Get your own guy.

"No. I'm just parked..." She gestured toward the base of the hill. "I'm right down there."

"Jack!" Carissa tugged on Jack's sleeve. "You walking her to her car or are you coming with me?"

He gave Lyla a parting glance and she waved him off. She watched Carissa lead Jack toward the farmhouse.

Her momentary relief was doused by a wave of dread. She was alone, isolated, a vulnerable target. What if Keenan was lurking nearby, watching? She needed protection, the comfort of her car.

As the drug continued coursing through Lyla's system, she staggered and nearly fell. Every shadow that moved in the darkness seemed to be circling her like a predator waiting for its chance to pounce. Her heart hammered in her chest. Surely, Keenan could hear it, too. Microbursts of electricity snapped across her forehead and along her jawline. She was tripping hard.

After what seemed like a two-mile hike, she came upon her old, beat-up car. The rusted hinges cried out as Lyla fought to pull open the driver's door. She plopped down onto the seat and wiped her nose.

The moment she closed the door she nearly suffocated from the faint odor of gasoline and some unidentified auto fluid. It was stifling. Her face flushed and beads of perspiration formed along her hairline.

She lowered the window. Loud music and drunken laughter wafted into the car on the cool night breeze.

Lyla searched her bag frantically for her phone before realizing that she clenched the phone tightly in her other hand.

Are those my hands?

Her fingers looked thick, almost like the hands of a man, but those were her painted black fingernails.

She checked for messages. Still no texts from Darcy so she dialed. "Please, Darcy, please answer your phone."

The message brought no comfort. "Hey. This is Darcy. Leave a message." BEEP.

She slammed down her phone.

"Hey, Lyla. Where you going, girl?"

She jumped. Keenan crouched at the window.

She locked the door. "Leave me alone!"

When she pushed her key into the ignition switch, the engine groaned.

"You're mine. Always will be. I own you, girl."

"You never owned me."

"Come on." He raised an eyebrow. "At least take back the ring. I want you to have it." He held the gaudy ring in his palm, a silver snake swallowing its tail, with two fake red gems for eyes.

She slapped his hand, launching the ring into the darkness.

"Damn you!" He tried the door but found it locked. "Open this door."

"Like I'm supposed to forget what just happened back there?"

She turned the key again. The engine briefly came to life, coughed, then died.

"No way you're driving this piece of junk, Lyla. You're too messed up to drive."

"You're too messed up to live!"

"Aw, girl, that was insensitive." He grinned. "You hurt me when you say things like that." He leaned into the window and swooped in for a kiss. She spread her hand over his face and shoved his head out of the car.

"Get away!"

Finally, she managed to start the engine. The car lurched down the driveway and traveled thirty yards before it stalled.

Keenan hollered, "You're not goin' anywhere in that piece of crap." He jogged down the mud and gravel driveway toward her car, stumbling over the ruts.

Lyla begged the car to start. The engine didn't respond.

"You're more broken than that damn car of yours," he called. "Lucky for you, I got just the tool to fix you right up." He laughed at his crude remark.

"I don't need you to fix me." She put her arm out the window and flipped him off.

He bellowed, "I'm gonna teach you some manners, girl!"

Frantically, she tried the ignition again. The engine groaned. In the rearview mirror, she could see Keenan closing in.

With one more twist of the key, the car came to life. She stomped the accelerator. Her automobile nearly struck a parked truck as it rumbled out of the driveway and onto the country road. The engine sputtered but regained its rhythm.

With a glance into her mirror, she could see that Keenan was now nothing more than a raging silhouette, pumping his fists in the air and shouting obscenities.

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