The air draws cold and Ronan shoots Noah a dark look as he grabs for his rope. It sings at his touch, a low and quiet whine and slithers free of Noah's wrist, coiling and tying in on itself once more. Ronan's face throbs, but not as badly as the ache in his chest.

It doesn't matter what Ronan says and he knows it. He's the one who always picks the fights, the's the one who's always wrong. Adam knows it. Blue knows it. Gansey knows it.

And now Noah knows it.

"I'm sure he didn't try to break my nose either," Ronan sneers. "Just an accident."