For a suspended heartbeat, they are locked in shared force.
Balanced.
Neither yielding.
Teddy’s eyes flash.
Approval.
Dangerous, electric approval.
Then he shifts weight to disengage.
She follows.
Steps forward.
Into the space he just vacated.
Claiming ground.
The clearing erupts with sound—not cheers, exactly, but the rough, instinctive understanding of what they just witnessed.
Teddy stills.
Looks down.
Her toes now rest across the line he drew for himself.
His territory.
Taken.
Very slowly, his gaze lifts to hers.
Pride flickers in his eyes, but volatility sparks there too. He clamps down on it so quickly most would miss it.
But she feels it. Feels the echo of it reverberating through her bones.
This is what he teaches them. Advance. Claim. Take.
Everything he refuses to do with her.
“Good,” he says quietly.
The word hits harder than any blow.
He steps back, gesturing to the ranks.
“Again. With partners.”
The clearing explodes into motion.
Bodies pair off. Boots scrape lines into dirt. Nervous laughter mixes with sharp concentration. Then impact—dozens of collisions erupting across the training ground, the air filling with grunts, staggered footwork, shouted corrections.
Chaos.
Controlled chaos.
