The scoreboard burned in the rafters:
Vorpal 66 – Harbor 53.
The whistle split the gym, sharp as a blade.
Both squads broke from their huddles like armies marching to the front.
Ayumi clutched her clipboard on the Vorpal bench, knuckles white. Her whisper barely carried through the roar:
"This is it. The second half—this is where everything shifts."
Ethan rolled his shoulders, jersey clinging to his sweat-soaked frame. His eyes, cool and razor-sharp, scanned the court. Lucas bounced on his toes, golden eyes gleaming. Ryan leaned back with a smirk, oozing playboy confidence. Louie pounded his chest like a drum, shouting for the crowd to hear. Brandon stood steady, silent and rooted like a mountain.
Across the hardwood, Harbor looked like predators let loose.
