The gym was quiet except for the soft sound of a basketball bouncing on the hardwood.
Charlotte Graves was at center court, alone, practicing like she always did before the sun came up. Her short black hair was damp with sweat, and her silver eyes were sharp with focus. She moved with purpose—each step and dribble full of intent.
At just fifteen years old and already in her third year, Charlotte wasn't just another player—she was a symbol. The Captain of the Thunderhawks, known by many names:
"The Commander Hawk," "Silver Falcon," and just "C.G."
She didn't speak often. But when she did, people listened. On the court, she led with action, not words.
Charlotte took a deep breath and got to work. She started dribbling at a fast pace, feet light, eyes forward.
Crossover—the ball snapped from her right hand to her left.
Between the legs—quick switch in direction.
Behind the back—clean, smooth, like she'd done it a thousand times.
