Melissa's POV

Joem kept his distance, just as I expected. But something between us had shifted; he avoided my eyes during drills, yet I could feel them on me, sharp and unblinking.

And then there was Kennedy.

He had this way of making the air lighter wherever he went- laughing at the wrong times, joking in the middle of discipline briefings, smiling like the world hadn’t yet taught him fear.

He found me one afternoon sitting on the bleachers, bandaging a scrape from sparring practice.

“You hit harder than you look,” he said, dropping beside me with his usual grin.

“Or maybe you just block slower than you think.”

He...