BRYCE
Sloane picked me up at nine AM sharp.
I was waiting outside my dorm with a single duffel bag. My entire life packed into one bag—clothes, toiletries, laptop, textbooks. Everything else I was leaving behind.
The sleek black car pulled up. Sloane got out, looked at my bag, raised an eyebrow.
"That's it?"
"I don't have much."
"You will." She took the bag from me, tossed it in the trunk like it weighed nothing. "Get in."
I'd stopped by the hospital first thing this morning. Said goodbye to Mira while Mom was still sleeping.
Mira had grabbed my hand so tight it hurt. "Call me. Every day. If she hurts you—"
"I'll be fine." The lie tasted bitter.
"Bryce—"
"I have to go." I'd pulled away before she could see me break down.
Now I sat in Sloane's car, watching the campus disappear behind us. Watching my old life fade.
