Rebuilt For Revenge (Editing)

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Octavia's POV

Tyler.

Of course it's Tyler. Standing in the doorway like an extra in the wrong movie, gawking while I'm halfway strangled on the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Tyler?" I rasp, still pinned under Zoey's knee. Paint and broken frames dig into my back, and my throat is two seconds from being permanently compacted.

"I—uh—I came to help!" he blurts, voice cracking. "Heard a gunshot, thought you were dead. Which, honestly, kind of wish I hadn't wished for now, 'cause I'm staring at the world's angriest dog and your psycho girlfriend choking you out, and—"

"Not my girlfriend," I choke, clawing at Zoey's wrists. "Also... nobody asked you."

"You're welcome!" Tyler yells back, ducking when the dog growls and takes a step closer. His face goes pale. "Oh my god. He wants to eat me. He's actually considering it."

Zoey's lips curl in this wicked grin, but I can see her eyes flick toward Tyler for just a second. Distraction. Perfect. I wrench one hand free and shove at her shoulder. She slaps me so hard my ears ring.

"Ohhh," Tyler says, half-laughing, half-terrified. "Did she just slap you? Like a high-school fight?"

"Not funny," I grind out. My throat burns. My face stings. And I'm dangerously close to turning this into a full-on catfight.

She leans back over me, voice a hiss. "Stronger than you look."

"Yeah? You too. For someone who slaps like a toddler."

Her grin flickers—offense taken. Good.

I force myself to lock eyes with her, shoving aside the fear and pain. My vision prickles, the color bleeding into my irises. The command wells up, raw and forceful: Step. Back.

Zoey falters. Her fingers tighten once more, then release. She stumbles back, breath catching. Fear flashes across her face, quick and sharp before she hides it.

Finally, air. I suck in a lungful, coughing like hell. My eyes are still glowing—I can feel it—but I can't shut them down yet. Adrenaline has them stuck.

Then—click. Gun cocking.

Perfect.

I don't even bother looking up until I feel two hands on me. One steady on my shoulder—Matthews. The other awkwardly wrapping around my waist—Tyler, of course, because apparently he thinks he's my crutch now.

"You okay?" Tyler asks for the third time, voice way too soft.

"Define 'okay.'" I wheeze, wincing as my ribs complain. "If you mean alive, then congrats, yes. If you mean 'having fun,' not so much."

Matthews crouches slightly, scanning my face. Concern is written all over him, though he tries to mask it with that stern mentor glare. "You pushed too hard. You're burning yourself out."

"I'll live," I mumble, forcing a crooked smile. "Not my first strangulation. Probably not my last."

Zoey pushes herself up, forcing out a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. She's covering fear with bravado. "Not bad. Stronger than you look." She tilts her head. "But this is the last time anyone's gonna see it." She raises the gun again, aiming at me.

Matthews straightens, calm but sharp. "Let's not be hasty, Zoey."

Her face snaps toward him. "How do you know my name?"

He doesn't flinch. "Zoey Alexandria. Eighteen. Two brothers. Parents gone. Cascade School, mechanical district. Your file is—"

"Enough!" she snaps, face twisting.