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At the flat-warming, his hall smelled of fresh paint and was lined with boxes. Now it’s just a hall—wide, pale, quietly expensive, without a speck of dust anywhere. The builders left weeks ago.

Instead of leading me to the right, towards the enormous living-and-kitchen space where I first met him, Ryan goes left and pushes open a door.

“C’mon, in here.”

I step through, and—oh.

He told me about his home gym the night he walked me home, but I’d pictured a treadmill and a few weights. This is not that. Mirrors run the length of one wall, and thick blue mats cover a wide section of the floor. There’s a bench, racks of weights, a pull-up frame, and a couple of machines I couldn’t put a name to.

There are also two punchbags. Two. One for each hand? I genuinely don’t know.

Ryan closes the door behind us and frowns at my cheek. “That bruise looks worse today.”

“Thanks.”

“Never said it made you look any less pretty. Anyway, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

I am. Mostly. Okay, truth be told, I barely slept last night. But that can’t be uncommon after a mugging.

Yesterday, with Emmy there, and the police, and Ryan, I felt all right, more or less. It was only after I locked up the shop and went upstairs, and it was just me and Penny, that I started to feel a little…on edge. Because if something like that can happen once, what’s to stop it happening again? Which is why maybe learning a bit of self-defence isn’t such a bad idea.

“You’re looking better today,” I say.

He is. The bruising around Ryan’s stitches has faded from purple to yellow-green, and the swelling on his cheek has gone down enough that he can open both eyes properly again.

“Aye. Ribs are still a bit tender, but I’ll live.”

“Innes told me the win on Saturday keeps you where you were,” I say. “Still number two.”

“That’s right. You beat a man ranked five, you hold your spot. You did what you were meant to do and nothing more.”

I think about Saturday and the blood running into Ryan’s eye. Him sitting on that stool with a man pressing gauze to his eyebrow. All of that just to end up in the same place he started.

On one of the gym walls hang two belts with enormous gold plates. They catch my attention, and Ryan notices.

“That one’s a British title,” he says. “Won it when I was twenty-one. The other one’s European. I was twenty-three.” He shrugs like this is no big deal. “Smaller promotions. Before the NMFC.”

“So what’s next?” I realise I’m not just making conversation or pretending to be interested. I actually want to know.

“The champion and the number-one contender are fighting next month. Cruz versus Vale. What happens at that decides what happens wi’ me.”

“So for now it’s a waiting game?”

“Aye. But you’ve already sat through hours of MMA at the weekend, and I know it’s no your thing, so I’ll spare you any more of it.” He nods at my trainers. “Shoes and socks off for the mats.”

“Can I ask you something?” I say as I take them off. “It’s just…isn’t this all a bit silly? You’ve seen my build. I’m never going to win against a man like you.”

“You’re right, you’re no, but that’s no what this is about. I’m no gonnae teach you to beat somebody bigger and stronger than you. I’m gonnae show you how to get away from them so you can get help or get somewhere safe. That, you can learn.”

Right. That does actually sound useful.

“One thing before we start,” he says. “What happened yesterday, a lad coming up behind you on a scooter and taking you by surprise? Naebody could’ve stopped that. Nae warning, nae time. But it’s no always like that. Sometimes you get a chance to react, and that’s what tonight is about.”

I remember the man at the bar on my birthday. His hands on my arms. If Ryan can teach me what to do in a situation like that, I want to learn it.

“Also,” Ryan says, “you’re in control tonight, do you hear me? There are times I’m gonnae have to put my hands on you, because that’s the whole point—you’re here to learn what to do when another person grabs hold of you. But if at any point you want me off you, you just tell me. Say the word, or tap me twice, anywhere you can reach, and I’ll stop. You don’t need a reason, and you don’t need to explain yourself after. All right?”