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I drop to my knees in front of her and push her hair away from her face.

“Mireya,” I say, touching her cheek gently. “Hey, look at me.”

She doesn’t respond. Her dress is twisted, strap slipped down her shoulder, fabric bunched wrong at her waist. .

I shrug off my jacket and wrap it around her without thinking, pulling her closer. I scoop her phone up with shaking hands, shove it into my pocket along with her bag.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” I say as I start walking back to the car.

She’s lighter than she should be, or maybe I’m just running on adrenaline. I carry her there, open the door and settle her carefully into the passenger seat, but that doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right.

So I pull her onto me instead and buckle us both in with one hand. Then I start driving with the other, one arm locked around her back, holding her upright against my chest.

“Mireya,” I say. “You’re going to kill me one day.”

Her head lolls against my shoulder, her breath warm against my collarbone. Then she moves. A soft sound escapes her throat, and her fingers twitch against my jacket.

“Hey,” she murmurs. “You came…”

My heart stutters so hard it almost stops. “You’re awake.”

Her lashes flutter, eyes opening halfway, glassy and unfocused. Tears pool instantly, spilling down her cheeks like she doesn’t know how to stop them. She isn’t even aware that she’s quietly crying.

She’s beautiful and unbearably sad. “Hey,” she says again, quieter this time.

I swallow hard. “You scared the hell out of me.”

My gaze drops, and I see red on her costume. Dark, smeared near her collarbone… Blood.

“You’re bleeding,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Are you hurt?”

She frowns faintly, like the effort is exhausting. “No,” she says slowly. “I’m a vampire.”

I blink, confused and then I realize that it’s fake. Just part of the costume, some stage blood that's drying tacky against her skin.

Relief hits me so hard I have to pull the car over for half a second to breathe. “Fucking hell,” I say hoarsely.

She watches me like she’s trying to focus through fog. “You look scared.”

“I am,” I admit. “So I need you to keep talking to me. Can you do that?”

She considers this with exaggerated seriousness. “I want to sleep....” Her voice is soft and has a drunk tone to it.

“No,” I say gently but firmly. “Not yet.”

She shifts closer instinctively, cheek pressing against my chest. “I only sleep when you drive, Mister Caldwell. You promised to be my sleep pill.”

I tighten my arm around her without thinking, then force myself to loosen it just enough to be appropriate. “Then rest,” I say quietly. “We’re going to get you home.”

“Okay.” Her eyes slide shut again, breathe evening out as if my voice is an anchor pulling her under the deep ocean she’s stuck in. And I keep driving.

One hand on the wheel, one arm around her. Every sense stretched thin, replaying the image of that man standing in front of her, the way the night felt paused and fucking wrong.

I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know who was there before me.

But I know one thing with terrifying certainty, someone wanted her helpless. And they wanted me to find her like that. And all I want to do is find them and make them go through hell.

When we pull up to the campus, I park far enough from the principal building and look around. No one is here, they’re probably either asleep, or partying. I found a visitor spot, parked there and cut the engine. She stirs immediately when the car stops, like she’s been trained to wake when motion ends.