When they pulled into the school parking lot, the entire prom stopped.
Students poured out of the gym.
Teachers ran outside.
Someone called 911.
Fifty bikers lined up in perfect rows, engines idling, waiting.
Jax helped Cassie off the bike.
She stood there in her thrift store dress, hair tangled from the ride, staring at the faces of every kid who’d ever laughed at her.
No one was laughing now.
The principal rushed forward, red-faced.
“You can’t—this is school property—”
Jax stepped in front of Cassie.
“She’s got a ticket. She’s going in.”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” Jax said, his voice calm but cold.
“Call the cops? They’re already here.”
He pointed.
A police cruiser had pulled up.
The officer stepped out, hand on his radio.
Cassie’s stomach dropped.
This was it.
They were going to arrest everyone.
Ruin everything.
But the officer didn’t reach for his cuffs.
He walked straight to Jax.
