Victor managed to return it. Barely.
The rally went on. Lilith playing both of them solo while Bradley occasionally remembered he was holding sports equipment. Every shot she made was surgical. Every smile she threw at Ava dripped with poison.
They lost the first game. The second. By the third, Ava’s shoulder was screaming and her pride was thoroughly bruised.
“Having trouble?” Lilith asked during the changeover. Not even winded.
“We’re pacing ourselves.”
Lilith’s laugh was bright and cruel. “For what? The loser’s league?”
Victor’s hand found Ava’s lower back. Steadying.
“She’s baiting you,” he murmured.
“It’s working.”
They lost 6-0.
Volleyball wasn’t better.
If anything, it was worse. They kept calling the same shots, running into each other, their timing consistently off. Once, Victor’s spike caught the back of Ava’s head instead of the ball.
“Ow! What the hell?”
“You were in my zone.”
“Everything’s your zone! You’re six-foot-three!”
Meanwhile, Lilith and Bradley dominated their bracket. Lilith made him look competent, setting up easy shots while she handled the difficult parts. They moved together like Lilith was puppeting him, which, Ava realized with a chill, she probably was.
“Final event,” Grimm announced as they gathered in the gymnasium. “Elimination dodgeball.”
“You’re joking,” someone said from the back.
“Last couple standing wins. No magic, no shifting. Standard rules.”
Red rubber balls lined the center court like artillery shells. Ava picked one up and tested its weight.
“Strategy?” Victor asked.
“Don’t get hit?”
“Brilliant.”
The whistle blew.
Chaos erupted. Balls flew everywhere. Couples diving and dodging. Some junior associates who’d clearly been forced to partner up went down immediately, not even trying to coordinate.
Ava grabbed a ball and threw without thinking. Caught someone from accounting in the hip.
Out.
“Good,” Victor said, then grabbed her arm and yanked her down. A ball whistled over their heads.
Without discussing it, without planning, they fell into a rhythm. Victor watching her blind spots, calling out warningshalf a second before the throws came. Ava attacking, knowing without looking exactly where he was standing. When she lunged left, he was already covering her right. When she ducked, his hand was on her shoulder, guiding her lower.
The sensation from this morning, those echoes of emotion that weren’t quite hers, intensified. She felt his focus, his protective instincts, his absolute certainty about where she needed to be and when. And threading through it all, his grim determination not to let Lilith win another goddamn thing today.
