15 – 13.
Timeout.
Forest Basket called it.
And just like that—
The roar of the crowd fell…
Like a curtain dropping after a thunderous act.
A deep, haunted hush blanketed the gym.
Micah leaned over, hands on his knees, gasping like he'd been sprinting uphill with a weighted vest.
Kael stood stiff, eyes fixed on the polished floor beneath his feet—
As if it had betrayed him.
Julian, their stoic sixth man, kept his arms crossed at the end of the bench…
But the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a rare crack in the mask.
And Elijah…
Elijah turned to his bench.
Silent.
His breathing slowed, lips parted just slightly.
Not out of fatigue.
But from something colder.
(We were up by nine...)
On the other end—
The Vorpal Basket bench was alive.
Lucas didn't raise his fists.
Didn't scream.
Didn't signal the crowd or slap hands.
He walked back to the sideline like a shadow in sneakers.
Quiet.
Measured.
