I watched her from across the gym.
Jane Garice. Standing there like she belonged. Like the mat hadn’t just betrayed her. Like the laughter hadn’t cut straight through her spine.
Her jaw was set. Shoulders squared. Captain posture.
It made something ugly twist in my chest.
My fingers curled slowly at my sides. I didn’t move. Didn’t react. That was important. Control mattered. It always had. I’d learned that young. In my family, the one who lost control lost everything.
Still, the fury was there. Tight. Hot. Coiled.
The captain title burned, but I knew now that it wasn’t the real reason I couldn’t breathe properly when I looked at her.
Leadership had been the goal. Or at least I’d told myself it was. Captain meant visibility. Power. Influence. It meant people listened when I spoke. It
