Chapter 3 Run Wild, Crash Hard
AMIRA’S POV
“Promise me you won’t post anything,” I said, smudging my lipstick in the cracked bathroom mirror.
Tara, perched on the counter and halfway through a can of hard seltzer, grinned. “Girl, please. This is St. Regis, not rehab. Everyone’s off campus tonight.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I swear,” Tara said, raising two fingers like she was taking an oath. “No pics. No tags. Not even a story. Just vibes and blackout memories.”
I adjusted my top; tight, black, cropped a little too high. My leather pants hugged me like a second skin. I looked reckless. Dangerous. Free.
The way I’ve always wanted to feel.
Jace Monroe had been breathing down my neck for two straight days. Silent. Brooding. Judgy. Always lurking like a storm cloud, I couldn’t shake it off.
So tonight? I'd breathe without him.
I smirked at my reflection. “Let’s go raise hell.”
The party was already in full swing when we arrived.
An abandoned mansion-turned-frat-den a few miles from campus. Strobing lights. Sweaty bodies. Booze spilling on the hardwood floor. A DJ in the kitchen. A hot tub bubbling in the middle of the living room, as if it belonged there.
I felt adrenaline spark in my chest.
No guards.
No suits.
No cameras.
No Jace.
Just noise and heat and chaos.
I grabbed Tara’s hand and dove into the crowd.
Someone passed me a drink; I downed it immediately and didn’t ask what it was. Music thudded in my chest, loud enough to drown out thought. Someone else pulled me into a dance, and I let myself get lost in the bass, the bodies, the feeling of not being watched.
This was what I wanted.
To be ordinary.
To be a mess.
To be someone who didn’t have a bodyguard disguised as a babysitter.
JACE POV
I noticed within eight minutes.
I hadn’t come out of my room for hours. My GPS pinged once in the quad, then vanished.
Disconnected.
I hacked her roommate’s phone in thirty seconds flat.
Tara’s Instagram story was black-screened, but the audio told me everything: music, party, off-campus basslines.
I slammed my laptop shut and grabbed my keys.
The house was packed.
Cars filled the street. Students poured off the porch like smoke.
I parked crookedly; I didn’t care. Stormed straight through the door, ignoring the confused stares. My eyes scanned the room with trained precision: flashes of red cups, strobe lights, and grinding bodies.
Where the hell was she?
I shoved past two guys smoking on the stairs, then spotted the edge of a leather jacket and that unmistakable cascade of dark hair.
There.
She was laughing.
Dancing with someone.
She didn’t see me.
But I saw her.
And the boy behind her, hands too low on her hips, lips too close to her neck—
My jaw tightened.
I didn’t think.
Didn’t hesitate.
I crossed the room in six long strides, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her backward so fast her drink splashed across her chest.
“Hey—what the f....?” she started, spinning around.
And froze.
My eyes were blazing. Not furious—furious didn’t cover it.
She saw it in my clenched jaw. In the way my chest heaved beneath my black shirt. In the way, the boy behind her backed up like a dog sensing a bigger predator.
“What are you doing here?” I growled.
People were watching now.
She pulled her wrist back, face flushing with shock—and rage. “You followed me?”
“No,” I said coldly. “I hunted you.”
Before she could react, I grabbed her by the waist, not rough, but not gentle either, and threw her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing.
She shrieked. “Put me down!”
“Not a chance.”
“Jace, I swear to God—”
“Start praying then.”
The walk to the car was a blur.
Her fists pounded my back. Her voice rose in volume and fury.
“You’re insane! You’re going to lose your job! You can’t just grab me like I’m some bag of—JACE!”
I opened the back door, tossed her inside, and slammed it shut before she could scramble out.
Then I slid into the driver’s seat, grip tight on the wheel, jaw locked.
She lunged forward. “I’m not a child! You don’t get to drag me around like some—some kidnapped debutante!”
“Buckle up,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Fuck you.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By what? Embarrassing me in front of the entire school?!”
“You embarrassed yourself,” I snapped. “Showing up half-dressed, dancing with strangers, drinking God knows what—”
“You don’t get to judge me, Jace! You’re a bodyguard, not my damn warden!”
“I’m the only reason your father lets you breathe without a security detail crawling down your throat!”
“Oh, so you’re his pet now? His little soldier boy?” She sneered.
My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed to be here.”
“I didn’t ask you to sacrifice anything!”
“No. You just expect the world to revolve around your tantrums while people like me bleed quietly in the background!”
She went still.
Then softly, mockingly: “What is that supposed to mean?”
The car hit 60.
Wind screamed against the windows.
I didn’t answer.
But she saw it.
The flicker in my eyes. The fracture in my armor.
And it scared her.
Not because i looked like she’d hurt me.
But because for one raw, silent second, I looked hurt himself.
I know she must hate how that made her feel.
So, she did the stupidest thing she could.
She lunged forward and shoved me hard—right in the shoulder.
The car swerved.
“AMIRA!” I barked, trying to right it.
But her hands were still on me, nails digging through my sleeve. “You don’t own me!”
“Sit the hell back!”
“MAKE ME!”
And then—
Screech.
Crash.
The world flipped.
Metal screamed.
Glass exploded like stars around us.
The car spun. Airbags deployed with a vicious roar. Smoke. Silence. Sirens from somewhere far away.
And then… nothing.
Just the quiet, eerie stillness after the storm.
