As the team moved out, Damon took a small step aside.
Svetlana was waiting near the exit, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a hug, firm, close. He kissed her forehead gently, holding her for a second longer than usual.
She looked up at him with a calm smile, but her eyes said everything, pride, worry, love.
She squeezed his hand before turning to make her way toward the front row.
Damon watched her walk off before joining his team again, their pace steady as they headed down the long corridor.
The sound shifted the deeper they walked. Faint roars from the crowd, muffled by concrete and distance, began to bleed through.
They reached the last stop, the prep room just before the tunnel.
There were mats on the floor, stools, buckets, towels, mirrors. A large monitor played the event feed in real time.
Water bottles lined the side table, and a small crate held last-minute essentials, ice packs, extra tape, emergency stitching gear no one hoped to use.
