“No? Then let us remind you what we look like without dance,” he says, letting me go with a shove. I fall back against a firm chest. Zayn’s chest. A moment later, a blade is pressed against my throat. “Zayn, what are you doing?” I stiffen, fear cutting off my tears as I’m reminded of that night when Frederico threatened my life and died for it. “Showing you the monster buried inside,” he replies, his voice dark, unrecognisable. Xeno, Dax and York step forward. Something about them shifts. Something that scares me. Gone is the compassion, the protectiveness, the fierce, undeniable love, and
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