I just stared at Sarge from the far side of the bed as he stood there, filling the doorway, staring right back at me. “You can’t be here. You hurt all the trainees! You bit Luke!” I was shouting. The shouting hurt my head, but this was so not okay.

He was one of the bad guys.

He shook his head, turned and walked out of the room.

Voices filled the air. A whole bunch of angry male voices. I stood up abruptly, immediately regretted that movement, and sat down. Screw it. Sounded like there were enough people around to handle the situation. I didn’t need to solve every problem.

It took me ten long, pain-filled minutes to find clean clothes, not so easy through squinted eyes, and a few more minutes to get to the shower across the hall.

The hot water was heavenly, but it barely muted what was now shouting in the other room. “Idiots,” I muttered as I scrubbed my hair.

The shouting escalated further, what sounded like a plate hitting the floor reverberated.

“Fools,” I said a little louder as I rinsed out the conditioner.

Something in the other room crashed. Maybe a chair?

Enough of that. I didn’t know what was going on, but I wasn’t about to rush in on their behalf. I wrapped myself in a towel, left my hair hanging down loose and sloppy wet, which meant I trailed water all the way across Corb’s hardwood floors to the kitchen and living area.

Corb, Sarge (on two legs), and Darv were on one side of the room, and Eammon, Tom, and Louis were on the other.

And every single one of the “hurt” trainees sat on the floor between them. Very much unhurt.

I gave them a nod and they all gave me weak waves, even grumpy Chad.

Onto the yelling. “Hey!” I snapped the word and every head swiveled my way. I glared at them. “If you are going to behave like children, you can all go sit in a corner and wait until the one adult in this house is done showering!”

I turned on my heel and slipped and slid my way back to the bathroom. I took my time drying off, braided my hair and put on clean clothes. My jeans were looser than the last time I’d tried them on.

Looked like almost getting killed, not having time to eat, and stressing about keeping a bigfoot alive was the diet for me. I snorted as I padded back out to the kitchen. Maybe I wouldn’t need to keep on that keto diet after all.

By the time I reached the kitchen, I felt a little better, less nauseous, less like smacking heads together.

It was quiet.

In fact, no one was talking now.

I sighed and pointed at Corb. “Talk. And don’t make me put you in the same bracket as Himself.”