The kitchen smelled like burnt toast, strong coffee, and the faint metallic tang of leftover adrenaline from yesterday’s scrimmage. I moved carefully down the stairs, one hand braced on the railing, ribs protesting with every step. The bruises had darkened overnight into deep violet and blue blooms across my side and shoulder, hidden beneath my oversized hoodie but impossible to ignore in the way I held myself.
The team was already gathered around the long wooden table—Riot flipping eggs at the stove, Tank and Liam arguing over the last of the orange juice, a couple of the veterans nursing hangovers in silence. Normal chaos. Except nothing felt normal anymore.
Caleb sat at the head of the table like always, captain’s seat, coffee black and untouched in front of him. His hair was still da
