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AN HOUR HAD PASSED SINCE THE PLANE HAD TAKEN OFF, and Kwon sat rigidly in his first-class seat, the luxurious comfort doing nothing to ease the tension knotting in his chest. His earlier excitement about the trip had evaporated, leaving behind a simmering frustration that even the demonic thrashing of his death metal playlist couldn't drown out. The music blasted at a deafening volume through his headphones, but it didn't matter—his jaw was clenched tight, and his teeth ground audibly as his thoughts spiraled into a darker place.
He still couldn't believe it. Tory. Of all people, Tory was the captain.
What kind of underhanded trick had she pulled to convince y/n to surrender her leadership? He knew y/n—stubborn, determined, and fiercely proud of what she'd earned. She wouldn't just step down without a damn good reason. Yet here they were, with Tory smugly strutting around like she'd actually earned the position. Kwon's eyes narrowed involuntarily at the thought.
To him, Tory was undeserving—a cheat who took fought dirty instead of putting in the blood, sweat, and tears that y/n had poured into becoming captain. And though he admitted he wasn't any better, and fighting fair wasn't on his own bucket list... he had still proven himself over and over again to Sensei Kim and her dojang. In fact, it wasn't until Sensei John Kreese arrived that someone finally acknowledged even a sliver of his potential.
Y/n, however... He'd seen the way she pushed herself harder than anyone else, going the extra mile during every drill, staying late after practice, perfecting every technique. She was born to lead. Not just because of her skills alone, but also because her chemistry with the team was dynamic. She listened to them as much as they listened to her. And seeing that role snatched away by someone as... disinterested as Tory was infuriating.
But if he was being honest with himself, what pissed him off the most wasn't Tory becoming captain. No, it was the fact that her newfound title meant he didn't get to sit with y/n. After having canceled their date the other night, he was hoping to make it up to her before Barcelona one way or another. Instead, he was stuck in first-class purgatory with Tory Nichols herself, who sat across the aisle, glaring daggers at him like he'd personally ruined her life.
She'd been sneaking glances at him ever since the plane took off, her cold blue eyes narrowing every time he so much as adjusted his seat. It was unnerving, and it made him feel like prey being stalked by a predator.
For a moment, he considered closing the privacy door to block her out, but something about her blatant hostility annoyed him too much to back down. No, if she wanted to keep glaring at him like that, she'd better be ready to answer for it.
