DAMIEN’S POV

Matteo stood rigid beside me, blood still drying on his split lip from where I’d hit him. He didn’t complain. Good. I wasn’t in the mood to hear excuses.

“Show me,” I said. My voice came out flat. Dead. Like someone else was speaking through my mouth.

Matteo tapped a few keys. One of the larger monitors flickered. Timestamp: 2:47 p.m. Gymnasium interior. Basketball practice in full swing.

There she was.

My Rose.

Number 7 on the blue team, curls bouncing every time she ran. She looked… happy. Focused. Alive. The way she always looked when she was doing something new, something brave.

Then the rough play started....