RIKA
I dragged her by her hair toward the mansion, my fist twisted so tight in those blonde strands I could feel individual hairs ripping from her scalp. Her body scraped across the sand, her legs kicking uselessly, her hands clawing at my wrist. She screamed the whole way, high-pitched, desperate, the kind of sound that made people stop whatever they were doing. Her torn grey tank top rode up her back, exposing skin that scraped raw against the gravel path. Her jeans caught on the edge of the iron gate, tore further. I yanked harder. She came loose.
"Rika?" Nate's voice cut through the morning air, sharp with alarm. He rushed toward me from the side entrance, his boots crunching on gravel, his hands lifting like he wanted to intervene but couldn't quite decide if that was suicidal. His
