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Ryan kills the engine. “Ready?”

“Yes!” Emmy says excitedly. “Seeing my best friend and my girlfriend fight each other in a cage? This is going to be so good!”

“Right,” Ryan says. “Though I was actually asking Briony. And to be clear, Emmy, they’re no gonnae be fighting. It’s self-defence. The whole point is for Briony to get away from Niamh.”

“Which isn’t going to be easy in a cage,” Emmy offers.

“Holy moly,” I say. “You’re really not helping my nerves.”

Ryan chuckles. “You’ll be fine. Unless Niamh decides to show off in front of her girlfriend, in which case God knows what could happen.”

“Ryan!” I squeeze his knee. “Not funny. I’m really nervous.”

“Ach, it’s nothing to worry about. Anyway, let’s go.”

Inside, the club is busy. Teenagers drill holds on the mats. Men work the heavy bags—I recognise Liam and Imran among them. Music thumps from somewhere, and the air smells of sweat and rubber. At the far end, big and imposing, is the cage. My stomach gives an uneasy little flip.

Ryan, though, couldn’t look any more at home. A young lad holds out a fist as he passes, and he bumps it.

Emmy suddenly squeals with excitement. “There she is!” She proceeds to dash across the gym towards a bench by the cage, where Niamh sits, unwinding tape from her hands. Niamh gets to her feet, and they share a kiss that earns a wolf whistle from somewhere over by the heavy bags. They only part when Ryan and I reach them.

“All right, Ry?” Niamh pulls him into a quick hug and thumps him on the back.

Ry? I didn’t know Ryan had a nickname—other than “Axe King”, of course. But before I can ask about this, Niamh turns to me, and all thoughts of nicknames go out of my head. I’d forgotten how physically imposing she is, especially in a vest top and shorts, with her muscles on full display.

“Ready for your lesson, Briony?”

“Er…”

“She is,” Ryan answers on my behalf.

“As am I.” Emmy has already got her phone out. “I’ll be filming it so Innes can watch it afterwards. He’s nearly as invested as I am.”

Great. So if this goes horribly wrong, there’ll be footage of my final moments. That’s comforting.

“Have you two never considered training together?” I ask Niamh and Emmy. Maybe Niamh will think that’s a brilliant idea and decide to practise on Emmy instead of me. A girl can dream.

Niamh and Emmy share a knowing look.

“We’ve given it a shot,” Niamh says.

Right. So their private sessions have gone about as well as mine and Ryan’s have. At least it’s not just us.

After a quick warm-up led by Ryan, Niamh and I get into the cage, and oh, crumbs, this is terrifying.

“Remember,” Ryan calls. “You’re no trying to fight her or win anything. Your only job is to break free.”

Just as well. I wouldn’t last two seconds if I actually had to fight this woman.

“Niamh knows the drill,” Ryan assures me. “Say the word or tap her twice, and it stops. Shall we see if you can remember anything from our first lesson?”

Our first lesson? More like our only lesson—no other one even reached the three-minute mark before our clothes were off. And while I do remember a lot from that first lesson, it mostly involves a mirror and Ryan’s hand between my legs, then me stroking his hard, hot length. Funnily enough, that stuff seems to have pushed most of the actual lesson clean out of my head.

“Wrist grab,” Ryan calls.

Holy moly, we’re starting already?

Niamh steps forward, and her hand clamps around my wrist. My heart leaps into my mouth. I know this is pretend. I know Niamh has no intention of hurting me. But my body, apparently, hasn’t been told. Every part of me tenses.