The gym was alive. The second half had just begun, but it already felt like the air itself was shaking. The crowd was on their feet, stomping, yelling, filling the Ironwood gym with noise that vibrated through the floorboards.
Jaden walked the ball up the court, his heartbeat syncing with every bounce. The scoreboard read 32–32. Ten minutes to find out who wanted it more.
Ray Hale waited at half court, calm and locked in, the same unreadable face that had been haunting Ironwood all night. His stance was low, sharp, like a predator that never blinked.
Jaden called the play, voice low and clipped. "Hawk three. Move."
Tank lumbered up for the screen. Jaden slid around it, crossed right, then snapped left. Ray followed every step, smooth and patient. Jaden faked the drive, stopped on a dime, then fired the ball out to Tyler in the corner.
Tyler caught, rose, and released in one motion.
Net.
The crowd exploded.
"Let's go!" Tyler yelled, pumping his fist as he sprinted back on defense.
But Southpoint wasted no time. Ray caught the inbound and brought it up the floor like he was gliding on rails. No hesitation. No wasted motion.
He waved off the screen. One-on-one.
Jaden crouched low, ready.
Ray jabbed right. Jaden stayed.
Crossed left. Jaden stayed.
Spin. Pull-up.
The ball arced just above Jaden's fingertips.
Swish.
Southpoint's crowd roared back.
It was a war now.
Jaden caught the inbound, jaw tight. "Aight," he muttered under his breath. "Run it back."
He pushed the ball hard, slicing through the middle. Tank rolled to the rim, dragging defenders with him. Jaden stopped just short of the free-throw line and floated a pass up and over.
Tank caught it midair and slammed it home.
The backboard rattled. The crowd lost its mind.
"Yeah!" Tank barked, pounding his chest. "We here!"
But Ray Hale came right back. He wasn't loud. He didn't talk. He just played.
He crossed half court, hand signals flying. Southpoint's wings cut sharp across the floor, opening lanes like clockwork. Jaden tracked Ray, but he was already two moves ahead, slipping past the top screen and hitting his shooter on the wing.
Three-pointer. Perfect form. Perfect shot.
Splash.
Southpoint 37–36.
Jaden didn't flinch. He looked at the clock, then at Ray. "You fast," he said under his breath, "but I'm different."
He called the next play himself. "Motion four!"
Ethan slid high, setting a pick. Jaden cut under, then burst through the lane with lightning speed. He switched hands midair, floated a finger roll up past two defenders, and watched it kiss off the glass.
Swish.
Ironwood up by one.
The gym was vibrating. The fans were screaming. The sound of sneakers and whistles mixed like static in the air.
Southpoint inbounded again. Ray moved like he was reading from a script, controlling the pace, cutting angles with precision. He faked a drive, stepped back, and drilled another jumper.
It was a duel now. Hunter vs. Hale.
Fire vs. ice.
The scoreboard flashed 40–39, Southpoint leading. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
Coach Hale's voice cut through it all. "Timeout, Ironwood!"
The players gathered on the sideline, sweat dripping, hearts pounding.
Hale leaned in, his tone sharp but calm. "They're dictating tempo again. Slow it down. Make them chase you. Hunter, I want control. Don't get baited into their rhythm."
Jaden wiped his face with his towel, nodding once. "Yeah, Coach. I got this."
They broke the huddle and stepped back onto the floor. The crowd roared as Jaden caught the inbound, his eyes locked on Ray. The noise blurred into one long hum.
Jaden bounced once, twice.
Then exploded.
He hit Ray with a hard left crossover that made the crowd gasp. Ray staggered half a step, just enough. Jaden turned the corner and accelerated straight into the paint. The help defender jumped early.
Too early.
Jaden rose, twisting midair, and threw down a violent dunk that shook the rim.
The entire gym erupted into chaos.
Fans jumped. Students screamed. The floor vibrated.
Jaden landed, chest heaving, eyes burning straight into Ray's. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
Ray just stared back, jaw set, face unreadable — but his eyes flickered.
Coach Hale's voice echoed from the bench. "Now we play our game!"
The next few minutes were a blur of noise and motion. Ethan blocked a shot clean off the glass. Tyler hit a jumper from the elbow. Tank fought through two bodies for a rebound and threw it back out to Jaden, who nailed a deep pull-up three.
The gym was shaking now.
Buzzer. End of the third.
Scoreboard: Ironwood 45 – Southpoint 42.
The crowd was still roaring as the players walked to their bench.
Jaden sat, wiping sweat from his forehead. His hands were shaking, but not from nerves. From fire.
They had the lead.
And for the first time all night, Ray Hale looked human.