The diner comes up fast on our left, but Carter doesn't hit the brakes.

"Hang on!" he shouts before throwing us into the turn. Thankfully, Tyler's car is much newer than his; it spins on a dime and sends us flying through the lot and into the first spot we find.

I have to peel my fingers off the grab handle above my head, but they're trembling so hard I can't get the door open. Carter isn't doing much better; all I hear from his side is the jingling of the keys stuck in the ignition.

The door gives first, spilling me out on the sidewalk. My palms catch me at the last minute and scrape against the pavement, but the pain doesn't register. A cold blanket of adrenaline has set in, driving me forward — until I don't hear Carter behind me.

He's still stuck.

"Go," he shouts from inside the truck "I'm right behind you!"

I don't hang around for him to change his mind. On first instinct, I head for the front entrance, then stop short; it's not like they'd be shooting up in one of the booths. Besides that, I can see through the windows that almost no one's in there, every seat vacant. I briefly consider checking the bathrooms until I notice a large SUV plow through the lot and head around the back — ignoring the empty spots out front.

The car isn't familiar, but it has to be them. I take off before I can second guess myself. It feels like hours before I reach the corner, but when I turn the bend, my legs nearly give out from under me.

"Mark!"

He's halfway off the ground, gripping Darren's hand. His head whips around at the sound of my voice, and even from this distance, I can see the shock in his eyes. His bright, very-much-alive eyes.

"Amber?" Mark asks, staring at me like I've grown a second head. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you shitting me, Anderson?" Darren spits, ripping his hand back. "You told her where?!"

"I swear Darren, I didn't know—"

"Just like you didn't know she's been calling me all night from your phone, right?" he shouts, his eyes darting wildly between me and Mark.

I ignore him and race across the asphalt to throw myself into Mark's arms. They're solid, warm, and around me in seconds, wrapping me in a hug I've missed more than words can describe. I claw at him, squeezing tighter and tighter, wiping my tears on the collar of his shirt.

"I made it," I croak against his neck, inhaling the smell that's always been uniquely him. "You're okay."

"Hey, what's the matter?" Mark rubs my shoulders, but pulls back to try and get a look at my face. "How did you even know we were here?"

"Cut the shit, Mark, you fuckin' told her." All of a sudden, I feel hands ripping me backwards. "Get her out of here, now!"

"Let me go, Darren," I shake him off harshly. "He's not doing this and neither are you. We're all leaving right now."

"The only person leaving is the bitch who doesn't know what she's dealing with," Darren says vehemently, spinning on Mark. "Make her or I will."

"Amber, he's right," Mark says close to my ear, trying to usher me back towards the front parking lot. "You gotta get out of here—"

"You will die if you do this," I say bluntly. "I know you didn't get Darren's text and I know you're not clean, so please, just listen to me and—"

"We got a problem here?"

The three of us freeze at the sound of a new voice coming from beyond the beam of Mark's headlights. They cut off as his car dies, leaving the lot dark until my eyes adjust on two figures walking towards us. They stop only a few feet away, both of them well dressed for what I assumed was a sleazy drug deal. The shorter of the two keeps his attention locked on Darren, eyeing him critically.

"No problem," Darren squeaks, trying to step in front of me. I doubt it's for protective reasons. "We've got your order all ready in the backseat. My handler just has to grab it."

"And this...girl?" the man asks cooly, side-stepping Darren until he can see me again. "Is she one of your handlers as well, Darren?"

"Like hell I am," I shoot back, not flinching under his sharpening gaze. "And neither is Mark. The police are already on their way, so we're both walking out of here whether Darren comes or not."

"Amber, stop," Mark whispers, his fingers twitching against my back. When I look up at him, I see why; the coke is starting to take effect, his pupils blown out so there's little blue left.

"Oh, he'll be joining you," the same guys answers, his partner staying cryptically silent. "We won't be needing our order anymore."

"What? No, no it's here!" Darren shouts, barreling towards the car and yanking the back door open. Mark's backpack tumbles out and Darren snatches it up, then holds it out to the men already walking away. "It's here, it's all fuckin' here!"

"Yes, but if you think we're going to make a transaction under the eyes of witnesses or in the presence of police, you are mistaken. I'm sure your father will make this up to us. Don't worry about having to explain yourself, Darren," the guy throws in before turning his back on us, "we'll be giving him a call ourselves."

"His father?" I mutter to Mark, but I can barely feel any concern beneath my unbridled relief. They bought my bluff about the cops. They're leaving and Mark is safe. Everything else is a problem for tomorrow.

Crack!

Until Darren becomes a problem for now.

I can tell the kick of the gun takes him by surprise, but it doesn't stop Darren from shooting off another round into the guy's shoulder, sending him spiralling to the ground. His partner's eyes go wide, first at the body laying at his feet, then at Darren as he takes aim again.

"Darren, stop!" I scream, trying to disrupt the trance he's fallen into. He stares at his next target without emotion, completely removed from the reality of what's happening.

"They're gonna call him," Darren mumbles, never letting his gaze waiver. "They can't call him."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck that guy's dead!" Mark shouts behind me, only making things worse. The gun shakes in Darren's hand as he preps to pull the trigger again.

"Darren, we can fix this," I insist, taking note of the first man lying still on the ground. Despite what Mark said, I can just make out his chest rising and falling. "He's not dead, but he will be if we don't get help. There's still time to turn this around."

Darren's face shifts as the fear floods in all at once. He looks from the man on the ground, to the one still standing, then at the gun in his hand.

"Make him put it down, Amber, make him put it down, he's gotta put it down!" Mark screeches in my ear. The effects of the blow are coming on strong now, rendering him useless to help me.

"Darren, look at me!" I demand, keeping my tone even so I don't push him too hard. I already know he's trigger-happy, so the last thing I want is to set him off further.

He keeps the gun aimed at the SUV, but his eyes finally wander to me. In them, I can tell he's lost, unsure of where to go from here. Now knowing the dangers he faces at home, I can't really blame him for what he's doing. But I have to get him to see things differently. It's the only way we all escape this alive.

"I won't let him hurt you, Darren." Holding my hands up, I begin to approach him. "Just put the gun down, and we'll figure it out together."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he grits out. "You don't know what he does to me."

"Maybe I don't. But I do know he's not worth losing your life over, and that's what you're doing right now. Throwing your future away for him. He doesn't deserve it, Darren, and neither do you."

We both flinch at the sound of an engine revving. When I look across the lot, both men from the deal are gone and the SUV is careening back towards the front entrance.

Darren grips the gun with both hands, his face melting into panic. "No, they can't leave, they can't fuckin' leave!"

"Let them go, Darren," I insist, trying to draw his attention back to me. "Trust me, this is the way it's supposed to be. If you finished this deal, you'd regret it for the rest of your life."

He keeps the gun trained on the car but doesn't fire. It flies around the corner and out of sight. They're gone, but Darren's arm doesn't lower.

Instead, it whips around to me.

"You let them escape," he whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks. "He's going to kill me because of you!"

"He won't, Darren!" I'm losing control of the situation and I have no idea how to get it back. It's clear he's more afraid of his father than any consequences he'd face for murdering me.

"He will," Darren screams, the veins in his neck popping. "He will because of—"

A flash of blonde sprints from the other side of the diner and tackles Darren out of nowhere. Somehow he stays upright, even as Carter yanks at the gun in his hands.

"Get Mark out of here, Amber!" he shouts over the commotion, Darren's shrieks nearly drowning him out.

"Let the fuck go, Hayes!"

I'm frozen, staring in silent horror as they fight back and forth for the gun. Something tugs at my hands, encouraging me to follow.

"Amber, come on!" Mark shouts in my ear, dragging me back the way I came. Even under the influence, he seems aware of the danger we're in. He's trying to protect me by making me leave — by making me choose him.

But his own voice is ringing in my ears.

Don't forget about him.

Don't forget about him.

Don't forget about Carter.

Ripping my arm loose from Mark's grasp, I barrel into the scuffle and grip any part of the gun I can get my hands on.

"Amber, what the hell are you doing?!" Carter tries to shoulder me out the way, but I stand my ground, fighting to push the barrel up towards the sky.

Darren pushes back until the gun rests in the central point between all of us. I pull back on his fingers in hopes it'll stop him from reaching the trigger. There's too many hands pulling and pushing, and at some point, I can't even tell where the gun starts and ends. Through it all, the sound of sirens pricks my ears, followed by red and blue lights flashing in the distance.

"They're coming, Darren!" I try to find his eyes, but there's an arm in my face, elbowing me back. "It's over, it's all over!"

Mark's shouting something, but it never reaches my ears.

Crack!

Because it really is all over.

There's movement around me, but I don't look up from the linoleum floor between my knees.

I stay hunched over in one of the waiting room seats, ignoring the sounds of nurses bustling by with monitors and doctors relaying news to loved ones. It's all background noise behind my racing thoughts.

"Hey."

I jump at the familiar voice, lifting my head to find Mark's blue eyes staring back. His pupils are back to normal, a sign that whatever the doctors gave him kicked in. He looks awful as he sinks into the seat next to me, resting his head against my shoulder.

He groans, gesturing to the double doors leading back to the operating rooms. "Is he—"

"Nothing yet." I pick at my cuticles just to keep my fingers busy. Then, I point back down the hall Mark just came from. "Is he—"

"Talking with the cops now." He takes my hand and squeezes, his callouses grazing my newly bandaged palms. It's awkward with the handcuffs on his wrists. "He's gonna be awhile. They aren't taking any of this lightly."

Sitting up, I try to catch his eye. "What did they say to you?"

Mark gnaws at his bottom lip, avoiding my gaze. "I'm in trouble, Amber. The dope was in my bag when they found it. I guess it doesn't matter that the transaction didn't happen. They've got me on possession alone."

"So what does that mean for you?" Whatever it is, it's better than the alternative. Regardless of the consequences from tonight, he's alive.

"Won't know until they take me down to the station. The hospital's backed up with the discharge papers, so the police said I can wait here until..." he glances again at the door, then gives me a tired look, "Can I borrow your phone? I gotta make a call."

"I'll do you one better." I reach into my pocket and retrieve his phone, slipping it into his hands.

"So Darren wasn't lying about you calling him?"

I shake my head. "Blew his shit up for most of the night, actually."

Mark chuckles as he scrolls through his contact list, stopping on the number for his house.

"They aren't there," I say softly. "Ronnie and the twins."

Mark's head whips up in panic. "What do you mean? Where else would they be?"

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself. "At Carter's."

Mark jumps to his feet, but I'm expecting that. I wrench him back down, then lock my arm with his to hold him in place.

"Mark, just listen—"

"What is he doing picking them up?"

"Saving their lives. Just in case I couldn't save yours."

A lump forms in my throat at the thought of tonight failing, but I remind myself for the thousandth time that he's here and undeniably alive. His hair is a bit disheveled, and he ripped his shirt at some point during the chaos, but he's otherwise unharmed.

I wish I could say the same for all of us.

Mark studies my face as if he's just now seeing me. "How did you know about tonight? How did you even find out I was dealing for Darren?"

These are the questions I've been dreading, and after the last few hours, I'm expecting them from more than just Mark. Working out the best way to answer in my head, I say a silent thank you that he's here to ask me questions at all.

"I should've seen it a long time ago. The late nights at the diner, the issues with cocaine, how it connected back to Darren," I should stop there, but this is the time to get everything out on the table, "what you were going through at home."

His hand stiffens in mine. "You went with Carter to get them?"

"It was my idea." A few tears slip free as memories of their injuries resurface. "God, Mark, why didn't you tell me? All these years you've been suffering alone when I could've helped you."

He lowers his head over his lap, but doesn't pull away. I let him take his time, my gaze sweeping over the waiting room until he's ready. There aren't many people in here, and I spot the cop in the corner keeping an eye on Mark, but a little girl sitting with her mother makes me pause. It's not her — I know it's not — but she makes me think of Brynn. Already she feels like a distant memory, like a dream that's fading away with consciousness. I pretend she's not part of the reason I'm crying.

"My life is shit, Amber," Mark says quietly. "I don't remember a time when it wasn't anymore. When I wake up, I'm drowning before I even get the chance to swim. Another bill I'm behind on, another expense for the kids I can't afford, another injury to tend to because of the person who's supposed to take care of us. I just.... you've always been the one good thing. The only constant in my life," his shoulders start to shake, and I put an arm around them as he cries, "I just wanted you to stay that way. Something I could escape to. Once you knew, it's all you would've seen when you looked at me."

"So when did cocaine become the escape instead?" I ask gently.

He takes a minute to regather his composure, then finally meets my gaze. "I want you to know it didn't start that way. At first, it was only about the money. My SAT tutoring gig helped a bit, but I knew Darren would be able to pay a higher price. That's all I wanted, just to tutor him and make enough to support Mom and the kids."

"But that's not what Darren wanted," I finish for him. I don't comment when his attention drifts to the doors behind me.

"I should've known he never planned to take the test himself, much less study for it. He was much more interested in securing the diner as a selling spot. It's originally what he paid me to do. Get him in touch with my manager Barry and I'd get a handlers fee. But then I saw how much he and his dealers were raking in every night. It made what Darren paid me look like chump change."

"So you started selling for him," I say, low enough so people around us won't hear.

Mark wipes a hand down his face, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, and I silently hope the doctors will come out and update us soon. More than anything, I want to get him home and in bed — and I don't mean his own. I'm saving the Anderson relocation conversation for later.

"I never thought it would have a hold on me like this. All those dumbass drug assemblies they made us sit through, and I ignored every one of them. At first, I used Darren's policy as an excuse to say no, but weed wasn't getting me enough anymore. Selling coke just felt like my only option, but I didn't agree to it until Cameron's party last week. First time I tested it, too. Like they say, that's all it really took. Just a couple lines, and now I'm a coke addict."

"Mark, you're not—"

"Yeah, I am," he argues, kicking the leg of his chair. "Or at least becoming one. Denying I have a problem clearly isn't working. I mean, I spent the majority of today high at a coke den for fuck sake."

It's weird getting pieces of the story now that it doesn't matter. A few days ago, I would've been jumping for joy learning Mark was at a coke den so I could add it to the timeline. Now, it just makes my stomach sick. "So what about tonight? Why did you agree to the heroin?"

"I didn't — at least, not to sell it. I was only supposed to drop off the order."

"So what changed?"

For the first time all night, he gives me a small smile. "You fucked Tyler Hampton."

I clean out my ear with a pinky to be sure I heard him right. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's what set off the fight between him and Carter and ultimately landed him in detention. I guess Tyler was already on thin ice with his parents, and getting in trouble on the first day of school must've been the final straw."

"He was supposed to sell with Darren tonight," I whisper, connecting the dots.

"It's why he got the job at the diner a few weeks ago, right around the time you started hooking up with him. When he dropped out of tonight's deal, Darren promised me he'd do it by himself, but he didn't want me to miss out on the money. His usual policy is two dealers on the hard drugs.... I should've known he couldn't keep his promise."

"Ok, first of all, hooked up. Singular." It feels like another lifetime since that happened, so I'm officially stripping Tyler off my body count. "And second, we saw Tyler tonight at the party. Why would he go there instead of trying to get in on the deal again?"

"My guess? Tyler will have plenty more chances to sell heroin if he really wants to. Can't say the same about attending Darren's parties. They aren't something most people pass up on. Which is kind of the point of them."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Darren only throws them when he's pushing a new drug. That one he threw during sophomore year? First time he sold cocaine. When the parties first started back in eighth grade, he was selling his first grams of weed out of the basement. He uses them as security. The more people are occupied by what's happening at his house, the less they care about what he's actually doing. Tonight, he wanted to know for sure no one would be at the diner for the heroin deal, and it worked...until you guys showed up, anyway."

"But why does his dad let him throw them?"

Mark scoffs, sitting back roughly against the seat. "Who knows why that piece of shit does anything, including beat Darren at the drop of a hat. But I do know it's why he cares so much about not getting caught. It wouldn't look good for their family image if he did, and Mr. Wexler would make sure it hurt Darren the most."

"But wouldn't his dad hurt him for destroying the house?" It's still not making sense to me, but Mark doesn't seem confused at all.

"From what Darren's told me, his father doesn't care how much money he spends or what damage he inflicts with it, as long as he does what he's told. After what Darren said tonight, that must include selling dope. I'd bet the parties were originally his dad's idea, too."

"So he is involved with the dealing." I figured as much from Darren's actions at the diner, but hearing it out loud still sounds wrong. "But why would someone like Mr. Wexler care about a high school drug ring?"

Mark sighs, looking back over at the double doors. "I don't know. Only Darren can answer that."

I glance at them too. Darren was still breathing when the paramedics arrived, but they hauled him off in an ambulance before we could ask any questions.

"His dad isn't here." The waiting room is occupied with strangers, none of whom resemble Darren.

"He's probably waiting in whatever hotel room they were supposed to meet up at after." Mark's face ices over. "Probably with a bat if those guys from the deal called him already."

I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything at all. We both opt to stare at the double doors, waiting for someone that hopefully has good news. My mind is still spinning when Mark speaks up again.

"Thank you," he says softly. "For getting there before I did the deal. I think you were right about what would've happened if I went through with it. After all that shit in my system from Fitz's place..."

I nudge his shoulder until he meets my eyes. "Letting you test heroin was never an option, Mark... but I'm also not the only one who saved you from doing it."

A look I can't read passes over Mark's face; all I know is, it isn't the usual anger that follows any mention of Carter. Eventually, he nods. "I know."

"I also know tonight's not the first time he's tried to save you from something."

His expression comes across clearer this time — somewhere between a deer in headlights and one that's just been hit with a four by four. "He told you why we stopped being friends?"

Solemnly, I nod.

He hangs his head again, this time in shame. "I'm surprised you're still sitting here, then. I always thought you would hate me for what I did."

Sighing, I squeeze his hand harder. "What you did to Carter was wrong, Mark, and I can't say I'm not mad at you about it. But hate you? That's not something I could ever do. It'd be like hating half of my heart. Well, a third of it."

Mark blinks up at me, still hesitant. "So he knows how you feel now?"

It's my turn to hang my head, just to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "I might have told him I loved him before we set off to find you."

He snorts. "I'm surprised he was able to function after that, much less drive his truck."

We both laugh at that. It doesn't last long, but in a way, it's just what we need after tonight. Mark quiets first, and I know it's because he's nervous. He's already anticipating my request before I make it.

"Talk to him."

He runs a hand through his hair. "How do you know he wants to hear what I have to say?"

"Because I do." Reaching up, I push his hair back from his forehead, something I used to do when it got too long as a kid. "And in my experience, you can never go wrong with an apology."

The doors behind Mark burst open, and the man in question rushes straight through them.

"Amber."

Carter's still covered in Darren's blood, but it doesn't stop me from racing into his arms. He embraces me tightly around my waist until I can barely breathe.

When I start to wheeze, he loosens his grip. "Sorry, sorry, I just," he tucks a few curls behind my ear before running his thumb across my cheek, "I'm just glad you're okay. You are, right? No cuts, no bruises, no..."

"I'm okay." As much as I want to drag him into the nearest exam room and kiss him until it hurts, I'm aware we have an audience. Stepping back slightly, I gesture over my shoulder. "We both are."

Carter's body tenses under my hands, but he nods at Mark before refocusing on me. "Good. That's good."

"It is," I add, just to break up the awkwardness. "So, are you all done with the police?"

"For now, yeah. They said there might be more questions for me later, but I think they're gonna try and pull you next. I guess there's things they're hoping you can clear up."

Fat chance of that, but I keep it to myself. Whatever the cops want to know, I'm sure I can whip up a half truth to serve them.

Lowering my voice, I shift my body so Mark can't read my lips. "Will you sit with him until I come back?"

Carter scratches at the back of his neck. "Does he want me to?"

"He does. It might just take him a minute to admit it. Please," I use a finger to lift Carter's chin so he can't hide, "Just try for me. That's all I'm asking. If there was ever a right time, it's tonight."

"Miss Blake?" A uniformed officer pokes his head through the same doors Carter used. "Can you come with me, please?"

"The narcs are calling," I say out the corner of my mouth. Carter fights off a smile, but a light kiss is all it takes to make it appear. "Stay right here. Don't move until I'm back."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says sarcastically, but his smile is still there. With a final squeeze of his hand, we break apart, Carter dropping into the seat I've left vacant, and me following the officer back the way he came.