Lucas's family gym smelled faintly of sweat, leather, and determination. The echoes of bouncing balls from earlier practice still clung to the air, though now the court was silent.
The Vorpal players sat in a half-circle on the bleachers, sweatshirts pulled on, water bottles scattered at their feet.
Ethan stood in the middle, arms crossed, sharp blue eyes scanning the circle. His hair was messy, sticking to his forehead from practice, but his aura was steady unshakable.
Beside him, Lucas leaned against the wall, arms folded, golden eyes like a torch in the dim light. Ayumi sat at the edge with her clipboard, chewing her lip nervously. Charlotte Graves leaned casually against the railing, towel around her neck, observing quietly.
Coonie Smith shifted in his seat, his broad frame hunched forward. His usual sarcasm was gone, replaced by a heavy silence.
Ethan broke it first.
