The locker room buzzed with tension, but Tom Lockyer sat still, lacing up his boots with deliberate calm. His fingers paused as he caught sight of the armband beside him—a quiet reminder of responsibility. Outside, the roar of the home crowd grew louder.

“Let them make noise,” he muttered under his breath. “We’ll make sure they’ve got something to cheer for.”

As the team walked out into the tunnel, Lockyer gave a firm slap on each teammate’s shoulder, his presence steadying, grounding. His jaw was set, eyes sharp—not with nerves, but with purpose.

Tonight wasn’t just another match. It was a battle, and Tom Lockyer wouldn’t let his line be broken.