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"What?"

"You got annoying."

"I was always annoying."

"Not like this."

I smile. "Already said that."

"Still true." He offers his hand. I look at it. Take it. Not Chief. Not first-year. Not wolf. Not vampire. Fighter. The room is quieter than I expected when we leave the ring. People watched. Apparently. I hadn't noticed. Good. Dax walks toward the benches. I follow. Rhyven passes us. Assessment sheets in hand.

He doesn't stop. "You dropped your right shoulder twice."

I stare at his back. "I drew with a fucking Chief."

"Twice."

"I hate you."

He keeps walking. "No, you don't." My mouth closes.

Dax looks at me. I look at Dax. No. Absolutely not.

"Don't."

His eyebrows rise. "I didn't say anything."

"Good."

"Wasn't going to."

"Better." His mouth twitches. I hate everyone.

I sit. Hard. My ribs hurt. Dax sits beside me. He wraps his wrist. For a minute, neither of us talks.

Then— "You didn't shut it down."

I look at him. "What."

"Your manifestation." I stop unwrapping my hand.

Dax looks forward. "Last time, you fought it." I say nothing. "Every time it got stronger, you panicked."

"I didn't panic." He looks at me. I sigh. "Fine."

"You did."

"Thank you."

He ties the wrap. "Today you didn't."

"No."

"You let it stay."

"Yes."

"But you didn't use everything."