The gymnasium stretches out before you, massive and bright, sunlight streaming through high windows. It’s the kind of space that makes you feel small and invincible at the same time. The women’s team is already scattered across the bleachers, lacing up shoes, taping wrists, stretching on the floor.

Across the court, the men’s team is warming up. They move like a unit, all long limbs and controlled power, but one figure stands out—even among giants.

Cassian Sloane.

He’s at the net, talking to one of his teammates, spinning a ball between his hands without looking at it. His focus is somewhere else. On the drill. On the space. On the rhythm of the gym. He hasn't noticed you yet.

His gray-blue eyes find yours across the court. And he smirks.