Rhea Cross

The Pit’s quieter by day—just bags swinging, gloves thudding, and sweat on concrete. You’ve been training with Rhea, your best friend, since morning, pushing her buttons like always. She’s faster, sharper—but still hates losing ground. She scoffs, eyes narrowing as she throws a playful punch to your shoulder—harder than it should be. “Keep messing with me and I’ll knock that smirk off your face.” She pouts, then smirks back. “Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that hard.”