Score: 60 – 59
Time: 1:29 remaining – 3rd Quarter
Lucas wiped the sweat from his brow.
Not just from effort—
But from what it meant to stand here.
The crowd buzzed in the distance. But for him, all noise had faded.
Just that silence before a storm.
The kind only real competitors felt.
(He's not going easy on us.)
(He's not letting us breathe.)
(Good.)
(That's exactly what Ethan would've wanted.)
He turned.
Clapped twice sharp, deliberate.
Clap. Clap.
Evan caught it.
Ryan caught it.
So did Forest.
But too late.
Ryan's eyes flickered.
The triangle.
A buried formation. Not in the playbook. Not in the routines.
A move they'd only practiced in shadow.
Because Ethan once said:
"In case I'm not there… you three can run this."
Lucas stepped out to the wing.
Evan settled at the top.
Ryan ghosted behind the elbow, curling low like a shadow beneath radar.
Evan bounced the ball once. Twice. Rhythmic.
