Liquid spilled from the bottle I grasped in my hand, sloshing all down my front. I took a large swig and threw my head back, laughing, waving my arms around. The music in the frat house was turned up so loud that for a moment in my drunken stupor, I thought there was an earthquake. People moved around, dancing, talking, drinking. Red cups littered the floor. People flung them aside when they had emptied them out.

A couple boys from another fraternity stood around the pool table I was up on, raising their glasses and cheering me on. Their faces were fuzzy, making it impossible to recognize any of them. Not that it really mattered. A couple more drinks and I doubted I'd remember much in the morning.

Coming here may have been to spite my parents or it may have been for my own enjoyment, but at least it was counterproductive. I had tailed Jace here, a frat party on campus. When it was clear that he wasn't coming out anytime soon, I had decided that I may as well have some fun.

And anything, even a party as distasteful as this, could be made enjoyable once enough alcohol had been consumed.

I tipped back my bottle, only to have nothing come out. I stopped dancing and frowned, disappointed by the sudden lack of alcohol. "Aw."

"Want some of mine?" one of the boys offered immediately.

I nodded and crouched down at the edge of the table, reaching out for the cup and draining it once he handed it to me. Redbull and vodka. "Yum," I enthused. Turning my head towards the blaring stereo, I stood up again."I love this song!"

Somewhere in the middle of my dancing, I particular boy passed by, catching my attention. I jumped off the table, nearly falling flat in front of him.

I giggled. "Oops!"

Jace's dark eyes widened. "What in hell are you doing here?"

"Dancing!" I looped my arms around his neck. "Don't you love dancing?"

He looked taken aback, pursing his lips together for a moment. "You're pissed."

I scrunched up my nose. "No, I'm drunk."

"It means the same thing."

"Let me down."

He sighed, but didn't protest. It was a party after all. The last thing anybody wanted was to be a killjoy. When my feet touched the ground, my knees turned to water. He caught me again, looking torn. "I can't leave you alone like this, can I?" It was apparent that I wasn't the only one who wanted to stay.

I grabbed onto the pool table. "I want to dance. And vodka. I want lots more vodka."

He headed for the staircase, pushing through the crowd. It was like fighting a tide that wanted to drag you out to sea. He scowled, looking around. Goosebumps rose up on my skin. I wondered where I'd left my coat. "Hell, Lia. I didn't think you were stupid enough to get so-"

"- pissed?" I finished for him, trying to look sober. "That means drunk, you know." My head dropped against his chest and I shut my eyes. I only opened them when he had me lean against something. I frowned, looking around the filthy bathroom, my back pressed against the shower wall. The solid blue curtain was drawn aside. ''What-''

Jace turned the dial and cold water sputtered out the shower head, raining down on me as he held me still. I stood shivering and gasping. In a few minutes, I had sobered up enough to make sense of what was going on.

Jace looked at me, wide-eyed. His gaze was fixed on my neck. Slowly, he raised one hand, pressing it gently against my neck.

My pulse quickened as I looked at the running water. It had washed away my makeup, revealing the bruises.

"You?"

I leaped forward, scrambling out the shower and onto the slick bathroom floor. Run! I thought through the intoxicated haze. Jace tackled me to the ground without hesitation, grabbing a fistful of my hair. Drawing in a breath, I did the only thing I could think of. I let out a scream. He slammed my head down as hard as he could and the world went dark.

➵

It was hard to tell whether I had a concussion or the world's worst hangover. There was a powerful throbbing in my head when I opened my eyes. My body ached as I raised my head, looking around the tiny bathroom. Instead of a blue curtain, this one was checkered. The place was almost spotless. A single toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste sat by the sink. It wasn't the same bathroom from last night, I was someplace else. My hands were cuffed, hanging above me. They were bound to the thick railing, high up enough so that my feet didn't quite touch the floor of the tub.

The pain in my head made me groan, the sound was stifled by a gag I hadn't noticed before.

The door opened and Jace stepped in, holding a bottle of water. "Good morning."

I glared at him, trying to look as menacing as I could in such a vulnerable position.

He came forward, pulling down the gag and holding the bottle to my lips. "Drink up."

Denying it would have been foolish. My throat was burning and my mouth felt like sandpaper. I needed it. Refusing the water would only have made me look like a stubborn fool. I drank thirstily, draining as much as I could until he pulled it away.

"So," he said, crossing his arms. "You're the one playing Robin Hood."

I raised my eyebrows, staring him down. "Not very creative with nicknames, are you?"

"You know who I am. You knew the second I walked into your home, didn't you?"

"Look at you, putting the puzzle together."

"You agreed to help me so you could play interference, spy on me."

"Brilliant, now you're stating the obvious. Boring."

He bit down on his lip, irritated.

"You can't keep me here,"

"Don't underestimate me."

"Alright, you can make a futile attempt to keep me here. You'll just end up regretting it."

He scoffed. "I knew you were more than you seemed, but I hadn't imagined you as the vigilante."

"Thief," I corrected. The sharp edges of the cuffs were digging into my skin. The smallest drop of blood dribbled down my arm.

"Where is the flash drive?"

"I thought you were an art thief. Assumed you were there for the vase."

"I was, originally. But the fact that you went after some files means that they are far more valuable. Somebody wants me to get them from you."

I pressed my lips together. "You might as well gag me again. There's no way I'm telling you."

"I need it, all right?" There was a pang of desperation in his voice, a scared look in his eye that I didn't quite understand. "You still have it, but it isn't as if you have any use for it anymore. Tell me where you hid it."

"Or what? You wouldn't beat me, would you? Not exactly a fair fight."

"I don't want to, but I will. This is important, Lia. This isn't a game."

I gave him an icy look, not saying a word.

"I don't want to hurt you, I really don't. It's not really my thing. Knocking you out was bad enough. Tell me where it is."

I spat on him. "Up your ass."

He raised his hand up, but I didn't flinch. "Last chance. Where?"

"How do I know you'll let me go?"

"Killing isn't exactly my MO."

I shook my head, wondering if it was time to feign tears. But he wouldn't buy that. He knew I could put up a fight. Maybe if he beat me a bit first, he'd believe it. But he wasn't going to do that, I could see it on his face. The only thing he was going to do was talk to me to death.

"You nearly killed me in the senator's office."

"I was trying to knock you out. I thought you'd kill me. And if I recall properly, you were the one who stabbed me. Just tell me and this will all be over. You can go home."

"It's on campus," I lied. "Under the founder's statue. I have it stuck beneath his hand."

Gagging me again, he left, shutting the door behind him. I waited until I was sure he was gone. I rocked back and forth until I managed to propel myself to the end of the rod. I swung both my feet onto the edge of the tub so that I knocked the rod down. It fell into the tub, taking me down with it. I raked through my hair the best I could until I found a hairpin in the tangled mess. Pulling it out, I stuck it in the keyhole, twisting and turning.

Click.

The handcuffs unlocked, and I pulled my wrists out of them, landing neatly on the balls of my feet. I tore off the gag, tossing it into the trash, and stumbled in front of the mirror. The room did a one-eighty, making my stomach lurch.

I pulled open the bathroom door, staggering out.

It was a studio apartment. There was a twin bed pushed against one wall, an array of paintings stacked next to an easel that stood beside it. A couple boxes of paints and brushes were stored beneath it. I threw open his closet, hoping that he'd brought my coat. It was folded up on the first shelf, stained with blood. I shrugged it on, hurrying out the front door, searching the pockets for my phone.

I pulled it out, dialing a number with shaky fingers. I could barely believe who I was making a call to. Never, in a million years, had I imagined that I'd feel this desperate.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Tyra," I said. "I need your help."