“Say that again,” Mattheo snapped, squaring up to the boy in front of him.

The boy just lifted his chin with a mocking grin. “I said you’re pathetic,” he sneered. “All talk. And your wife-” his eyes darted to you for a fraction of a second, then back to Mattheo, “-your wife is a b*tch.”

The common room collectively sucked in a breath. Mattheo’s face darkened and fury flashed in his eyes. He sh*ved the boy hard against the wall.

“What did you just say?!” Mattheo barked, his voice low and dangerous.

The boy smirked. “I think you heard me.”

You stepped forward before Mattheo could throw the first p*nch. “Mattheo, don’t…” you said firmly, your hand brushing his arm.

For a moment, his chest heaved as he stared the boy down, his jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed it might snap.

He trusted you enough to take half a step back, though his entire posture screamed that he wanted to br*ak the boy’s nose.

The boy chuckled smugly, thinking Mattheo had been cowed.

That was his mistake.

Because you were still standing there.

Before he could even blink, your fist connected with his jaw in a clean p*nch that snapped his head to the side. He stumbled back against the stone wall, clutching his face with wide eyes.

You shook out your hand, the sting buzzing through your knuckles, and smirked down at him. “I know how to throw a p*nch,” you chuckled, stepping back as if nothing had happened.

Mattheo’s anger turned to pride, and he leaned close, whispering in your ear, “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”