Isla’s heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her throat. Rowan’s grip on one wrist and Soran’s on the other felt like chains she hadn’t asked for. The entire cafeteria was staring—phones raised, whispers spreading like wildfire, Mia’s excited voice still murmuring into her live stream somewhere behind them.
“What are you guys doing?” Isla’s voice cracked, small but sharp. She yanked both hands free with a sudden twist, stumbling back a step. Her wrists burned where they’d held her.
Rowan’s smirk faltered for half a second. Soran’s frown deepened.
Isla didn’t wait for either of them to speak. She spun on her heel and ran—pushing through the crowd that parted reluctantly, past tables and staring faces, out the side door of the cafeteria. The heavy door slammed shut behind her.
Rowa
