"Betty is also aware that Jack is behind Mark's capture," Raphael told Alex as they settled down for the night, trying to keep his voice low beneath the canvas of the tent.
Alex didn't look up from the small pile of gear he was rearranging. "How do you know?" he asked.
"I overheard them earlier," Raphael said, quiet and blunt. "Before you came back."
Alex's jaw tightened. He reached into his bag and produced the little bottle Blade had given him. The cheap liquor glinted in the dim lantern light.
'I want to forget how pissed off I am,' he thought, twisting the cap off.
"What are you going to do with that?" Raphael asked.
"Drink," Alex said flatly, and tipped the bottle back. The first swallow warmed his chest; the second loosened his shoulders a little. He shut his eyes and drank again while Raphael watched, expression unreadable.
"You've changed a lot, Alex," Raphael said after a long pause.
Alex glanced at him and let out a humorless chuckle. "Why are you only saying it now?" he asked. "Say it more and I'll start to hate you for it."
"Whatever you say," Raphael muttered and turned away, staring at the parched canvas. He didn't press. He knew when to hold back.
The alcohol blurred the edges of Alex's anger; it did what it always promised—numbed the sharpness for a little while. He fell into sleep like a man sinking into a warm, dark pool.
He woke to breaking light and the sound of raised voices — not the normal early-morning chatter, but the raw edge of something snapped. Alex pushed himself upright and the tent flap opened to a tableau of chaos: Blade and Jack were in the middle of a brutal hand-to-hand scrap, muscles and anger in motion.
"What's happening?" Alex asked, moving toward them.
Raphael fell in step at his shoulder. "Mark woke up," he said. "He told Blade that Jack ambushed him and used him as bait."
Alex's hands curled into fists. He didn't do theatrics; he moved. He crossed the camp and pushed into the small first-years' cluster where Mark and his friends had been staying. Mark sat inside his canvas, eyes red, words still catching in his throat. Alex strode up, grabbed the boy's collar and hauled him up.
"What did I tell you?" Alex demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?"
Mark didn't curl away. He met Alex's grip with a stubborn, frightened stare. "I tried to tell you," he said in a rush. "I couldn't stand by and watch him hurt you. He's been doing it — pushing you at every chance he gets. I thought if I said something, maybe you'd do something. I couldn't let him make you a target anymore."
Alex's grip tightened. For a heartbeat the anger and the ache mixed—rage at the betrayal, guilt for having put others at risk, and an ugly pride that someone he hardly knew would stand up for him.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" He asked, voice low enough that only Mark could hear.
Mark's eyes widened, and he swallowed. He had expected fury, not the strange mixture of menace and something almost like gratitude on Alex's face.
"Do you think I don't know?" Alex continued. "Do you think I don't see what's been happening? I wasn't blind. I chose not to make a scene. I warned you — stay out of it. You tried to help and made it worse. If Jack had gotten you last night…"
Mark's voice broke. "I'm sorry. I only wanted to protect you. You're the only senior I look up to."
Alex let go of his jaw and stepped back. A bitter laugh escaped him, small and brittle. 'Someone looks up to me,' he thought, unable to suppress the private, ridiculous ache at that claim.
"I'm not what you think," he said quietly. "Don't let your heart lie to you. Keep your head down next time."
Mark blinked, hurt and confused. "I'm not crying," he said quickly, wiping his face.
"Don't make a fuss," Alex snapped, then turned and started to leave.
At the edge of the melee, Blade and Jack were still entangled. Alex was stepping away when a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.
"Come here, you bastard!" Jack spat, and shoved Alex to the ground.
Alex hit the dirt butt-first. Jack stood over him like a bald accusation, his face a mask of barely concealed fury. Mark lunged from his tent, eyes blazing.
"Let him be!" Mark yelled, flinging himself at Jack.
Jack did not hesitate; he kicked Mark's leg, sending the boy sprawling. "Mind your fucking business," Jack snarled. "Stay away from him, do you hear me?"
"I won't," Mark stammered, rising through the pain. "I won't let you hurt him!"
Jack scoffed and backhanded Mark across the face. The boy crumpled, silence ringing in his ears.
"You think you're brave?" Jack snarled, turning back to Alex. "I'll kill you."
Alex moved as if bored. He lunged for the dagger as Jack drew it, and with a single, quiet move he slapped the blade aside. It clattered into the dirt. Alex seized Jack's wrist, twisted, and the taller boy sprawled forward in a tangle of limbs, the air forced out of him. Alex's voice dropped to a whisper. "There will be no second chance. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Jack landed face-first in the dust, his pride worse than the bruise forming on his cheek. Around them, a handful of first-years who had gathered muttered and sniggered, some at the humiliation, some at the sudden shift in power. Even Betty, who had looked torn all day, turned away rather than stay. No one stepped to Jack's defense. He tasted the glaring lack of allies and flinched.
Blade watched the scene and then stalked over. He looked at Alex, at Jack on the ground, then said coldly, "I hope you learned something, Jack."
Jack scrambled to his feet, wildness gathering in his eyes. He shot a venomous look at Alex, then stalked off with his wounded pride folding in on itself. Betty followed, trembling but silent.
As the camp settled back into its routines, whispers trailed in Alex's wake. He did not seek them; he did not celebrate. He'd done what he had to do, not to be praised, but to keep the traps closed around people who might get hurt because of him.
That night, as the camp settled, Alex lay awake. He tasted the after-image of the fight on his tongue like metal and dust. Mark's apology echoed in his mind like a bell he didn't know whether to ring or let die.
'You warned him,' he thought. 'You told him to stay out of it. And yet he risked himself because of you. What right do you have to let him?'
Raphael's hand found his. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
Alex closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Yeah," he said, knowing it was not the whole truth. He stared into the dark. 'If Jack tries anything again, I won't hold back,' he thought. 'Not ever.'