I manage to slip away from the group, mumbling some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom. I walk over to the twins but don't say anything, and instead nod over to a fire exit door tucked down in the corner of the room. I know that they're following after me so I slip through the door, into the fresh nights air, and turn to face the two of them.

Tristan hugs me immediately, Sean embracing the two of us, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the strong urge to cry. I never realised how much I've missed these two during this week until this moment, when I'm reminded of how much these guys have done for me since the moment I was born. They've been my protectors since I was a kid, they'd defend me and play with me or take me to the park to cheer me up. I'm reminded of the days that Mum and I would be going at each others throats, which lead to the evenings of the twins getting me out the house and taking me to the cinema or some fast food restaurant to distract me. They've done so much for me and I haven't even told them that I'm safe.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sean asks as we pull away, grabbing me shoulders and giving me a little shake. "Why haven't you come home yet?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Come home? Sean, I'm not coming home. Mum has made it more than clear she doesn't want me there." I point at the fading bruise on my cheekbone for extra emphasis.

"We don't care about that," Tristan says. "We want you back, fuck what Mum says."

"I really don't think she'll see it that way," I say, wrapping my arms around myself as I start to feel cold. "Besides... I don't need to go back. I'm fine."

The twins share a look I know all too well; full of questions, as they use their twin telepathy to work something out.

"Fine?" Sean asks. "Who have you been staying with?"

I can't meet either of their eyes so look over at a bus stop at the end of the dingy road we're stood on. "Just some friends."

"Friends? You just moved here how do you have friends?" Tristan asks.

"I met them at school," I lie again. "They offered for me to stay with them as long as I give them money every now and then. If it wasn't them I'd be on the streets."

Sean sighs. "Rora, you can come and live with us at the university when we go back next week. Mum never has to know and you'll be with people who actually care about you."

"They do care about me," I argue defensively. "I appreciate the offer but I just don't see that working out. I'm perfectly fine where I am." I struggle to keep the waver from my voice when I think about Sean calling me Rora. I used to hate it when they called me that, but recently I would've killed to hear it again.

"We miss you," Tristan says, looking down at his feet with a frown. "Mum's been so strict, telling us that we can't have any contact with you. If she hadn't been watching us like hawks and she didn't remove your number from our phones we would've called every day."

I touch his forearm, clad in a leather jacket I wish it was wearing because damn, I should've thought against standing out in the freezing cold. "I know it's not your fault."

There's a small pause, before a thought crosses my mind. "Dad managed to call me about a week ago. It's obvious he's blaming himself for... everything that happened. Can you just tell him that I don't blame him? Honestly I think we're all victims in this."

"We can do that," Sean says, nodding along with Tristan. "And believe it or not, Connie seems pretty bummed out about you leaving too. She's worried it was her fault and... I think she's missing her older sister."

Damn, the alcohol is making me emotional. I cough slightly. "No, I think she's just missing the person that her mother used as a punching bag."

It's silent for a few moments again before I feel bad. "Is she getting it bad?"

"We all are," Tristan says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But yeah, even the slightest thing makes Mum have an aneurysm and she's been taking it out mostly on Connie, who we all know gets upset at the slightest bit of confrontation. Connie's sad, Dad's stressed, Mum's angry while we just want everything to be okay again."

"It was never okay," I say quietly-- so quietly I don't think either of them heard it.

"Who were those people you were with?" Sean asks. "We saw you walk in with them earlier and we've seen them come to this club every now and then."

"Yeah, and why do they look like they've walked out of a James Bond movie?"

I chuckle, only for a few extra seconds to conjure up an answer. "They're just friends of the friends I'm staying with. I only met them today." I'm starting to get tired of all this lying.

"And your friends are rich?" Tristan asks.

"You could say that," I nod. "And, wait, did you say you've been to this club before?"

"We've been here quite a lot," Sean tells me. "It was when we left school and some friends showed it to us. It's a pretty cool place." He gives me an odd look, as if just realising something. "A cool place that you're not old enough to be in."

"Okay, I'm eighteen in, like, three months," I defend. "And I'm pretty sure that you two have been sneaking out to parties and getting drunk at nightclubs since you were Connie's age, so don't even try."

Sean shrugs bashfully. "I'm just saying, take care of yourself. You don't want to come and live safely with Tristan and I? Fine. But I'd feel much better if I knew you were actually trying to stay alive."

"I am taking care of myself." Well, if you consider working out every day training to be involved in theft which could possibly lead to my death as taking care of myself, my statement isn't wrong. "I have people to take care of me, I have plenty of food and protection. I don't need you both worrying about me."

"We're always going to worry," Tristan says.

I smile sadly. "I know."

A bus crawls to a halt at the bus stop, though no one gets off and no one climbs on. The tired bus driver is looking down at the screen of his phone, so I presume that he's a few minutes early so has decided to have a break.

"That's actually our bus," Sean says, turning to Tristan. "We should probably get going, Mum doesn't want us out later than eleven."

I can't help but frown. "You're leaving?"

"We'll try to be in contact," Tristan smiles, but it's not the genuine I'm used to; it's the fake, strained one that is a poor attempt at trying to reassure me when things are tough. "And please look after yourself."

I breathe out a sigh, hugging his warmth to me. "I will."

Once again, Sean joins us in the embrace, before the two of them turn away. I watch them stroll over to the bus stop, muttering to one another, before paying the driver who barely gives them a second look and taking a seat on the top deck. I continue to stand outside until the bus is long gone, wishing I had cherished the time I spent with them more, or gave them each a longer hug as I don't know when my next one will be. It's then that I turn around to go back into the club.

And the asshole from inside is stood right there, the one who I stole from.

My steps freeze as he looks me up and down, his large arms folded across his chest and his expression intimidating and stoic. I'm tired from the nights events, the alcohol quickly wearing off and leaving me feeling cold instead of fuzzy and confident like I did inside.

"Hello again, Sweetheart."

I swallow the boulder that's formed in my throat and squeak out a small 'hi'. He doesn't move, he just stares, and I'm waiting for the moment that he'll pounce. He is what I meant when I said I wouldn't want to be walking through these streets alone.

"You know, I think I've figured out why such a pretty thing is here tonight."

He steps closer. I step back.

"Why's that?" I ask. God, I wish my brothers had just stayed for a few more minutes before getting on that damn bus.

He chuckles darkly, taking another step closer. I step back.

"Because you and your rich friends are here to pickpocket and steal peoples hard earned money. And I know you have something that belongs to me."

I shake my head. "I don't have anything."

He steps closer. I step back.

My back hits a wall.

Crap.

He gets even closer, completely invading my personal space. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and the strong odour of sweat radiating from his skin. Suddenly I don't feel cold anymore. I've clammed up, my skin prickling with sweat, and the alcohol I've had isn't helping with the onslaught on nausea rising in my throat.

"You do," he says. He tucks a strand of curled hair behind my ear and I flinch away from his hand. Somehow it's worse than if he were to hit me. "And you're going to give it to me, otherwise I'll make you regret ever touching my shit."

Within split seconds, I decide I don't want to feel like this anymore. There's been too many times in my life that I've felt like a trapped and scared creature caged behind bars. I've been hit and insulted too many times. As I was thinking this morning, I've been working out for a reason. I've been building my strength all week to prevent being defenceless in this situation, and now's the time to prove that my work has been paying off.

I lift my foot and slam my high heel into his foot. It's clear I've used strength I didn't even realise I had, as he yells out in pain and stumbles a few feet away from me.

I can barely breathe as I storm back over to him, grab his head, and hit it against the brick wall, causing another cry to erupt from him as he falls to the floor. I feel a stab of sympathy when I see blood trickling from the side of his head, but I can't help but kick him in the shin.

I think that my job is done, but before I know it, he's up on his feet and has grabbed me around the neck. His fingers dig into my flesh as he presses me up the wall. I'm drowning in his strength.

I grab at his fist, using my nails to scratch and slice at his skin. But his grip never slackens and I'm looking into merciless eyes.

I'm pushing at him as a last resort, somehow knowing that I can't cling to consciousness for any longer with stars plaguing my vision. I'm pushing against his face and his shoulders, attacking him with my hope slipping away.

But suddenly he's gone.

I fall to the floor, wheezing and coughing to catch my breath. But I'm not there for long, as someone grabs me, almost painfully, and pushes me behind them.

Blake?

He's yelling at the asshole, more angry than I've ever seen him for the short time I've known him. He's throwing cuss words and insults at him, forcing him to run off with his tail between his legs. Then he turns to me, his eyes blazing with anger, and grabs my shoulder.

"What the fuck, Aurora?" he shouts.

I open my mouth to respond, but I'm still gasping for air and I can't think of anything to say.

"We're just trying to have a good night out yet you have to throw yourself in the middle of trouble? You could've been killed and Zavier or I could have lost our place with the thieves! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Nice. I could've died yet he's telling me that the consequences would be my fault.

Luckily, before I can get out a single word, Zavier, Maeve and Colby rush through the door. Zavier shoves Blake away from me, ordering him to calm down with authority I've never heard in his voice before, while Maeve and Colby gently hold me upright, frantically asking if I'm okay.

Feeling drained and rattled, I shake my head, surrendering to the pain and exhaustion. "Please, take me back."

And they do.