---- middle of nowhere. How could a mob even find your place? Stop making things up." "7m not lying!" I screamed. "They said they're Lily's fans-they're doing this to support her-" Then Lily's voice chimed in, sweet and sickening: " Luna, I know you don't like me, but my fans are kind people. They'd never hurt you." Yeats chuckled coldly. "Lily was worried you might be harassed, so she posted on Instagram asking them not to bother you. This is how you repay her? With more lies?" "Pm not lying!" I cried again. Another rock struck me -this time on the temple. Blood mixed with the red paint down my face. I stumbled. Amemory flashed: years ago, Yeats had collapsed suddenly, paralyzed. I had carried him to the bathroom, my legs shaking under his weight. I had slipped and hit the desk corner, blood pouring down my face then, too. And still, all he had done was lie there, pretending to ---- be helpless. If he had truly loved me... would he have kept pretending? Would he be watching me bleed-an¢d still do nothing? His voice returned, sharp and final: "Don't contact me again. I gave you the title of Luna out of mercy. You saved my life-I paid my debt. We're even." Not far away, I sawa flash of movement. My parents. They were running toward me with warriors from Lupus Celestial, their faces pale with horror. I gave a hollow laugh, voice cracking through the blood. "Don't regret this, Yeats." "T don't," he said coldly. Another rock struck the back of my head. The pain was sharp, hot, and then- Nothing. ---- I collapsed. The phone slipped from my hand. A thud echoed through the call. Yeats's voice came faintly from the other side. "...What was that sound? Did someone fall?"