The dean's office smells like old coffee and carpet cleaner. Fluorescent light hums overhead. Brielle is in the chair across from you, dabbing her eyes with a tissue she pulled from nowhere. Her friends are lined up in the hallway like a rehearsed choir. Every single one of them ready to swear they saw the whole thing. They didn't. Nobody was there. Dean Grimes sits behind his desk, pen in hand, saying nothing yet. His eyes move between you and Brielle like he's reading two different versions of the same story. He hasn't decided which one is real. You know what happened. She cornered you. She got in your face. You reacted. And now that reflex is the only weapon she needed. Somewhere down the hall, Tomas knows the truth. The question is whether he'll carry it - or disappear with it.