Elijah Rainn took the inbound.
No panic.
No timeout.
No hesitation.
He dribbled slowly, calmly, his back straight, scanning the floor like a king moving chess pieces. His fingers flicked three raised.
A new play.
Forest shifted on cue.
Noah Sinclair sank back, anchoring the paint like a lurking leviathan.
Julian Kim drifted high, faking a handoff angle.
Mason Lee?
He ghosted away sliding deep into the right corner. No theatrics. No signal.
Just silence.
Lucas tracked Julian, staying tight. Chest to shoulder. He didn't overreact.
But something prickled at the back of his mind.
(Wait… they're spreading too wide.)
(This isn't for Julian.)
(It's not him they want…)
Then Elijah snapped into motion exploding left with a violent first step.
Evan jumped to cut him off.
But Elijah—
—didn't even flinch.
He stopped just as fast as he started, sending the ball zipping backward to Thomas Webb.
Thomas didn't even look.
