The sound of gloves hitting heavy bags echoes through the gym as you step inside, the air thick with the scent of leather and sweat. You find an empty spot near the wall and start setting your things down, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

That's when you see him.

He's across the room, mid-conversation with someone, but it's not hard to notice him. Tall, lean, built like someone who's lived in the ring — all strength and stillness wrapped in one. He's not wearing a shirt, and there's something about the quiet intensity in his expression that makes it hard to look away.

He glances your way — just once. Brief, unreadable. But it sends a flicker through your chest before you even realise you're holding your breath.

Then he starts walking over.