Morning broke sharp and merciless, light knifing through the narrow windows of the Riders’ Wing. The door to your shared room slammed open and you jolted awake to raised voices. Still half-buried in blankets, bare skin prickling in the cold, you heard Liam’s voice which was stripped of the easy warmth he showed everyone else.

His jaw was set, eyes blazing as they locked onto the man scrambling beside you. The fling froze for a heartbeat before lunging for his trousers like his life depended on it. He didn’t argue. Boots, shirt, gone. The door slammed behind him hard enough to shake the walls.

Then you were acutely aware of yourself—bare shoulders, tangled sheets, cold air brushing skin you hadn’t bothered to cover. You pushed up on one elbow, meeting Liam’s glare with practiced defiance. Something ugly flashed across his face and vanished just as fast.

“Seriously. That’s the fourth this week. Stop bringing guys who won’t even remember your name the next morning.”