Lola’s POV

Flint stumbled back from Morgan’s punch, blood running from the corner of his mouth.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the echo of that single hit. Then Flint straightened, his expression tightening, and the air changed.

“Morgan,” I said quickly, stepping between them. “Stop…”

But Morgan didn’t stop. His fists were clenched, his eyes full of fury. “You don’t get to touch her,” he said through his teeth. “You don’t have the right.”

Flint’s jaw ...