The Rider’s Quadrant was merciless.

It had been a week since Threshing. After bonding to a big, strong blue dragon, you figured the attacks would stop. But this time, they came full force.

The harsh attacks by cadets from other squads who were eager to eliminate you and take your dragon, coupled with the intense drilling—your muscles were screaming in protest, ribs aching, breathing laboured.

And then boots scraped behind you.

It happened too fast—a blow that’s stole your breath, a knee slammed into your stomach, laughter as you hit the ground. You fought back on instinct, wild and desperate. But exhaustion dragged you under. The boots faded as quickly as they came, your attackers snickering as they left, leaving you on the cold stone covered floor.

You tried to stand. Failed. Groaned in pain. Head spinning.

“Gods.” A low, familiar rumble swears, cutting through your pain. You feel something, or someone, warm by your side.

Liam.

“I told you to stay out of—“ Your protest dissolves into a cough.

Liam curses, sliding an arm around your waist, lifting you with ease. His arms are strong, solid, protective…unfairly gentle for someone trained to kill. His breath brushes against your ear, sounding furious but steady at the same time.

“Stay out of your fights. I know. And you can yell at me later, but i’m taking you to my dorm.”