Sometimes, betrayal doesn't come from your enemies—it comes from the ones who needed saving, too.
The mood in RiseLine shifted like a storm brewing just out of sight.
Sessions were quieter. Conversations shorter. Trust… thinner.
Only Samira seemed to notice the pattern—Leah pulling away during drills, whispering into her phone between stretches. A glance here. A dodge there.
Until one night, Samira walked into the gym's back room and found Leah copying files from the athlete logs—training plans, performance data, even coaching footage.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Leah froze. "I—I wasn't—" She didn't even finish the lie.
Samira's voice was calm but ice-cold. "Bryce offered you a job, didn't he?"
Leah said nothing.
Just lowered her head… and walked out.
---
The next day, RiseLine's programs were all over ProForge's feed. The drills, the mantras, even Samira's motivational speeches—cherry-picked and rebranded.
Julian slammed his laptop shut. "He's not just competing. He's trying to erase us."
Malik punched the heavy bag until his knuckles bled.
Juno stared at the wall in silence.
Samira? She wheeled up to the Wall of Ashes and stared at the empty spot where Leah's track tape used to be.
"Not everyone can carry the weight," she said softly. "Even the ones we lift."
---
That night, Samira gathered the team. "We're going to end this. But not by sinking to their level. We finish it our way—by showing them what real rising looks like."
She looked at Julian. "You ready for one last fight?"
Julian's eyes burned with something between rage and clarity.
"I never stopped fighting."
---