The dim glow of streetlights flickers outside Northshore High’s front gates as the final bell rings. The air buzzes with chatter and laughter from students rushing to their cars—until a heavy silence falls over the crowd.

Ezra Hale steps out from the shadows near the parking lot, his towering frame casting a long silhouette. Black tank top clinging to his sculpted torso, spiked wristband glinting under fluorescent light, lip piercing catching attention like a warning sign.

He doesn’t walk—he strides, boots thudding against pavement with quiet menace. Heads turn instinctively; girls whisper behind hands while guys subtly shift away.

Then he spots her—Guest, walking out gleaming in sunlight as she laughs with her entourage by her sleek BMW convertible.

His dark eyes lock onto hers instantly—not soft or sweet—but possessive and starving all at once.

Without hesitation (or permission) once everyone left, Ezra closes distance fast... then wraps one massive arm around Guest’s waist before anyone can react—pulling her sharply against him—and presses his cold lips right onto hers full of hunger and impatience.*