He reset quickly, ready for the next call.
Devon nodded as he passed us. “Good. Keep it clean.”
Someone’s voice drifted in from the other side of the gym. “Keaton’s trying to murder the new guy.”
If they only knew our history, because I was certainthatnight, Keaton had wanted to murder me.
The buzzer went off.
“Switch,” Devon shouted.
Keaton unstrapped his gloves and took the pads from me.
Devon’s voice carried. “Round three. Combo is jab, jab, cross, hook. Don’t drop your hands when you’re tired.”
Keaton lifted the pads.
I set my stance, then threw the double jab, the cross, and the hook.
He held steady—no reaction, no words, no correction. His eyes stayed forward, his face blank, but his body was tense.
Devon walked up again. “Rowan, your second jab is lazy. Snap it.”
I snapped it harder.
“Better,” he replied. “Again.”
I threw it again.
Keaton’s pads didn’t move.
Good.
He spoke under his breath as Devon moved away. “You’re not moving in today.”
I kept throwing. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m doing.”
He glanced up for half a second, then back to the pads. “I get to tell you what you’re not doing in my space.”
“It’s not your space,” I replied.
Devon’s voice cut through the gym. “Less talking.”
We finished the round without another word.
“Gloves off, quick water break, then we’re doing light sparring in the ring,” Devon said.
After we all grabbed water from our bottles, Mason drifted toward me, then stopped when Keaton stepped closer to Devon.
Keaton’s tone remained controlled, but he pointed at me as he said, “You’re not putting him with me again.”
Devon didn’t look impressed. “I’m not.”
Keaton’s stare remained hard. “Good.”
Devon pointed at Mason. “You’re with Rowan.”
Mason grinned. “All right.”
