Dominic hit the weight room with Kai and Galen flanking him, the three of them moving like they owned it, because at Lunebrook, they did.
The room had been carved out of old stone, the school loved its caverns, with black rubber laid over the floor and racks bolted into rock. It smelled like iron, effort, and boys who’d already shifted and would never be small again. Plates clanged; bars hissed in bench sleeves; someone’s music bled from a corner speaker until a senior snarled it lower. On one wall, a hand-painted mural: a moon carved into a football laces-up, the motto scrawled beneath; DISCIPLINE IS A PACK SPORT.
Year Threes claimed the back row, two racks under square skylights pouring gold onto steel. Eighteen, all of them. Shifted. This wasn’t about size anymore. The weights weren’t
