The scent of sweat, liniment, and stale energy drink clung to the air in Razor Riley’s private training room like a stubborn, unwelcome guest. It was a stark contrast to the gleaming, state-of-the-art main gym at Blackwood. Here, the walls were padded, scuffed, and bore the testament of countless hours of brutal drills. The heavy bag, ripped and patched more times than Liam cared to count, hung menacingly from the ceiling.