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Braxton’s POV I stood outside the hotel balcony, the early evening chill of Spain brushing against my face, but I barely felt it. My hands were still slightly trembling, whether from the adrenaline, the confusion, or the sheer disbelief, I couldn’t even tell anymore. Inside, the rest of the students were either getting ready for dinner or talking about what happened in hushed, gossipy circles. The girls were dramatic, Jessa especially, but broken bones didn’t lie. And neither did what I saw with my own eyes. Andrea, my Andrea, had flung a girl twice her size like she weighed nothing. The sound of the locker door denting, the crack of Jessa’s wrist hitting the floor… it replayed in my head like a stuck film reel. I needed clarity. Or someone to tell me off this cliff of overthinking