The silence on the court did not ease after Adriana released his hand.
If anything, it tightened.
Jagger stood there, breathing hard, chest still rising and falling from the fight, blood drying at the corner of his mouth while the last of the dark tension bled slowly out of the room. The bruises were already beginning to fade beneath the skin. The deeper ache remained, but even that was receding in small, stubborn increments as his body repaired itself in silence.
Adriana looked at him once, then lifted a hand without turning her head.
One of the soldiers stationed near the wall moved immediately. He crossed the court at a jog, carrying a black case no larger than a tablet. The hard shell caught the training lights in dull reflections as he stopped at her side, dropped to one knee, and set it carefully on the mat.
He released the latches.
The briefcase opened with a soft hiss.
Inside, nested in fitted black foam, sat a single potion vial.
