The team dispersed, each heading to their quarters, but Reign couldn't find solace in sleep. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. Thoughts of Nicholas, the Grand Auction, and the future of Doncaster swirled in his mind. Despite the fatigue, sleep eluded him.
After what felt like hours, Reign decided to take a walk. He slipped out of bed, careful not to make any noise, and quietly left his room. The corridors of their base were dimly lit, and the silence was almost eerie. He wandered through the hallways, his mind still racing.
Reign found himself in the training hall, the familiar space filled with equipment and the scent of hard work and determination. He took a deep breath, the atmosphere grounding him somewhat. He walked over to a punching bag, his fists itching for an outlet.
