When I round the house, I see them. They have the guy dangling from Cyrus’s grasp as Bray and Asher stand before him. His lip is busted and bleeding, and his face is pale. “Now, let’s talk about consent, shall we? When a girl says no, it means no. It doesn’t mean corner her,” Bray snarls, slamming his fist into his stomach, making the guy grunt and sag. “It doesn’t mean carry on and keep pushing and make her feel like she has no choice,” he growls, punching him again in the same spot. The guy screams, and I’m pretty sure Bray busted a rib.
