Xander looks as if he’s chewing his own tongue in frustration.

Ethan has somehow managed to slip to a side door.

Xander catches his movement. “Not so fast.” His muscles tense. He clenches his hands hard enough for me to see veins popping out. This won’t end well. Especially for Ethan.

Ethan disappears out the door, and Xander starts after him.

“No.” I dart forward. Pain pinches my middle. “I’ve got this.”

Xander slows just enough to turn toward me. “Ava, you need to lie down.”

I won’t beat him to the door.

Roman steps forward and grabs Xander’s arm, forcing him to stop short.

“I need to handle this myself.” And I can. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a bully in my life. I’ve handled it just fine on my own in the past. In fact, I took care of Parker’s bullies, too. One might say I’m an expert on them.

I shoot Roman a look of thanks, ignoring the hurt on Xander’s face.

A small part of me flushes with happiness that Xander wants to take care of this for me. But I can’t let him. I’ve already dropped my guard enough with him. To let him become my knight in shining armor would be a mistake—one not easy to recover from. You can’t go back to fighting your own battles after growing used to having someone else fight them for you. Your muscles would have turned to Jell-O and your instincts would be foggy. You’d be dead the first time a beast looked your way and licked its chops.

“I’ve got this. Thanks, though,” I add, hoping that softens the blow.

I take a deep breath and push into the hallway. Ethan’s the only one out here. Good. I don’t want anyone else to see this if it doesn’t go my way.

“Ethan.”

To his credit, he stops and turns. He could easily outrun me in this moment.

I wince as I move toward him, refusing to clasp a hand over my stomach.

“What the hell?” It seems like a good enough question to sum up what I’m thinking. The blood on his suit is already drying—if it was even his blood. I’m not even sure if it was magic or a classic illusion. My curiosity flares, but I shove it aside. I don’t really need to know. It’s better if I assume it was magic. It means he has a better grasp on it than I do. It means I won’t underestimate him again.

He shrugs, tugging down a sleeve stained with blood I know is real. After all, it’s mine. “It wasn’t personal. I just need to win.”

“It felt personal.” I lift my shirt so he can see the angry red mark that’s clearly going to scar.

He doesn’t look.