As the golden afternoon sun bathed the courtyard, Mattheo lounged on a stone bench, casually twirling his wand, while Lorenzo sat beside him, glancing occasionally at a nearby commotion.

“Look at that girl,” Mattheo said, his tone laced with amusement. He tilted his head toward the scene unfolding across the courtyard. “She’s about to fight that dude herself!”

Lorenzo glanced up, his dark eyes settling on the small but fierce figure squaring off with someone twice her size. The girl stood firm, her hands on her hips, leaning forward slightly as if daring the boy in front of her to make another move.

Lorenzo arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your girl?”

Mattheo’s smirk faltered. His gaze sharpened, and his brow furrowed as he focused on her. Recognition hit him hard. It was her—fiery, fearless, and apparently ready to throw down in the middle of the courtyard.

“F*ck,” Mattheo muttered under his breath, shoving off the bench so quickly that Lorenzo barely had time to react.

Mattheo pushed through the crowd, his pace quickening as he neared the argument, catching bits of the heated exchange.

“You think I care about your stupid opinion?” you snapped.

The boy sneered, towering over you with an air of smug superiority. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, running your mouth like that. Maybe someone needs to teach you some manners.”

Mattheo’s bl00d ran hot. He didn’t need to hear more.

“Oi!” he barked, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

The boy’s head snapped toward Mattheo, his sneer faltering for a split second. Mattheo stopped beside you, his presence radiating a dangerous energy that made even the most confident people think twice. His eyes locked on the boy, his jaw tight.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked.

The boy straightened, clearly trying to save face in front of the small crowd. “This doesn’t concern you, mate.”

“Wrong,” Mattheo said, stepping closer. His grin was sharp and predatory now, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Anything involving her concerns me.”