Chapter 2

• Lana
• I walk faster, my chest tight from the strain. My breath is getting shallow. I reach for my inhaler, then stop. If I slow down, my ex’s cousin might catch me. I push through it instead. I pull in a deep breath and force my lungs to behave.
• It took me months to get away from Xander Chen. I learned the hard way that staying out of sight is the only smart move.
• I still don’t understand why I ever touched that man. It was a mistake. One of the worst.
• The Pine Street subway sign appears ahead of me, bright against the dark. It feels like a promise. Just a little farther. I tighten my grip on my backpack strap. Theft has been bad lately. No chances. I take the stairs down to the platform.
• Downtown Manhattan feels like a war zone now. The Golden Phoenix. The Kings. Smaller crews everywhere. No one really owns the streets, but everyone wants blood.
• I swipe my pass and step onto the A train platform. My shoulders drop a little. I look up at the blinking sign.
• Nine minutes.
• I groan under my breath. I sit on a bench covered in old graffiti. I shove my earbuds in and dig through my bag until I find my Econ textbook. I might as well study.
• I flip to the last chapter and lean over the pages. My focus locks in. Then a hand slams down on the book.
• My heart stops.
• I don’t look up. I don’t need to. The ugly silver dragon ring tells me everything.
• “Why have you been avoiding me, Lana?”
• Xander’s voice reaches me through Taylor Swift playing too loud in my ears.
• I stay still. I pretend I can’t hear him. I stare at the page like it matters.
• His hands clamp down on the book. The weight lifts off my lap. Before I can react, my textbook is gone. I watch it fly off the platform and land on the tracks.
• “Hey!” I shout. I rip the earbuds out and jump to my feet. “What the hell is wrong with you, Xander?”
• “You don’t get to ignore me.”
• “Yes, I do. We’re done. Remember?”
• I rush to the edge of the platform. My stomach turns when I see a rat skitter over my two-hundred-dollar book. I spin back to him and jab a finger into his chest. “Go get it.”
• He laughs. Low. Dark. His eyes crease at the corners.
• I used to love that look. Back when things felt easy. Back when I believed lies and called it hope.
• This laugh isn’t real.
• “Xander,” I snap. “I need that book.”
• “You should’ve thought of that before you avoided me.” His voice is sharp. His eyes hard.
• “I didn’t think you were insane enough to throw it on the tracks.”
• I should have known better. He didn’t rise in the Golden Phoenix by being kind. I glance at the sign again. Three minutes. Then back at the book.
• “If you want it back,” he says, “give me another chance.”
• He reaches for my hand. I pull away fast.
• “Don’t you remember how good we were?”
• “No,” I say. “I don’t.”
• His face changes. Rage floods his eyes. His mouth twists.
• His hand shoots out and grabs my hair. He yanks my head back. A cry tears out of me before I can stop it.
• An old man with a cane stands at the far end of the platform. He watches. He does nothing.
• I don’t blame him. Everyone knows better than to cross the Golden Phoenix. They don’t care who gets hurt.
• “Let go,” I say, my voice shaking with anger.
• “Not until you learn respect, you stupid bitch.”
• He drags me off the bench and forces me down. My knees hit the concrete hard. Pain shoots up my legs. I clench my jaw.
• “Beg me to take you back.”
• He stands too close. His body blocks the light. His zipper is right in front of my face. I hate that I can see what he wants. I hate that he’s enjoying this.
• I swallow the fear and lock it away. I refuse to fall apart.
• “Never,” I say.
• “I’ll have you,” he says quietly. “One way or another. You decide.”
• Fear spreads through me at the promise in his voice. He was always controlling. Always cruel with words. But he never crossed this line before.
• The sound of a subway pass clicking barely cuts through the rush in my ears. I struggle harder.
• “Let go of her.”
• The voice is calm. Cold. Deadly.
• It cuts straight through the noise.
• A chill runs down my spine.