The silence in the Crestwood High gym was a physical weight.
Dylan Riley was at the far basket, his back to the team, launching angry, pointless, left-handed hook shots that clanged off the backboard. The rest of the team—Sam, Marcus, Julian, and the rookies—were clustered by the water cooler, pointedly not looking at Leo. They were whispering.
Leo stood alone at center court, the ball dead at his feet. He was shaking.
He... he fed you... that 'no left hand' crap!
You're... just... a... puppet... for... your... creepy... little... brother!
Sienna's rumor, weaponized by Dylan's jealousy, had detonated. It had done more damage in thirty seconds than any opponent's defense could. It hadn't just questioned Leo's leadership; it had erased it. It reframed every good call, every smart adjustment, every bit of work as a "lie."
Julian Hayes, his co-captain, walked over. His face wasn't angry. It was... tired.
"Leo," Julian said, his voice low, his eyes on Dylan. "You... you gotta talk to us. Is it true? Is... is Kian... is he scouting for us?"
Leo's throat was tight. He looked at Julian, his oldest ally. He looked at Sam, who was watching him, his face a mask of hurt and confusion.
"He... he helps," Leo said, his voice hoarse. "He... he sees things I don't. The Redwood game... the data on the 1-3-1... the Northwood scout... yeah. That... that was him."
Sam flinched. It was a visible, physical wince. "So... that pass?" he asked, his voice small. "The... the game-winner? When... when you yelled at me to go to the corner? Was... was that you? Or... was that... him?"
This was the killing blow. This was the real damage. Kian hadn't just helped Leo; he had, in their eyes, controlled him. He had stolen Sam's agency. He had stolen Leo's trust.
"It was me!" Leo insisted, his voice cracking. "I... I made the read! I made the pass! He... he just... he told me... where... where your spot... should be! He helps us! He... he helps me... be a better captain!"
"I don't want his help!" Dylan roared from across the court, having heard every word. "I'm not being spied on... by some... goth freak... in the stands! This is our team, Vance. Not... his!"
Before Leo could find the words to respond, Coach Miller's whistle shrieked, a piercing, violent sound that made everyone jump.
"VANCE! RILEY! MY OFFICE! NOW!"
The small, glass-walled office was a decompression chamber. The silence was thick with adrenaline and bad blood. Miller sat behind his desk, his "Showtime" smile completely gone. He was furious.
Standing by the filing cabinet, silent as shadows, were Maya Davis and Elara Chen. They had, apparently, been called in.
"Sit," Miller snapped.
Leo sat. Dylan, still buzzing with rage, just stood, his arms crossed.
"Riley," Miller said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You... you walked out... of my practice. You mutinied. On my floor. You... you think... you're that good? You... you think... you're un-cuttable?"
Dylan, now facing real, consequential authority, was less brave. "Coach, he's... he's cheating! He... he's using his brother... to... to spy! On me! He... he fed you... that... that 'no left hand'... crap!"
Miller stared at him for a second. And then... he laughed. It was a cold, ugly, barking sound.
"'Crap'? You have no left hand, son! I've been telling you that since day one! Your middle school coach... told me... you had no left hand!" Miller slammed his hand on the desk. "I don't care... if Leo... or his...grandma... or his...pet rock... told him! Good data... is good data!"
He turned his hard gaze on Leo.
"And you! You've been... holding this back? You... you have... a secret weapon... a shadow scout... in your house... and you didn't tell your coach?"
Leo was trapped. He was being attacked by both sides. "I... I... he hates the game, Coach. He... he doesn't want... to be involved. He... he's just... helping me. Privately."
"He's hurting the team!" Dylan shouted.
"He is making us win!" Leo roared back, his own control snapping.
"ENOUGH!" Miller yelled. The room went silent.
Miller stood up. He paced the tiny office, his mind working. He was a coach. He needed to win.
"Riley," he said, his voice final. "You... will practice... with the team. You... will run... the plays... the captain... calls. You... will learn... a left-handed layup... by Christmas. Or... you...will be... a...very...fast...benchwarmer. We... we are... done... with this. Do you understand me?"
Dylan was seething. He had lost. He had lost to Vance. But he was beaten. "...Yes, Coach."
"Get out."
Dylan stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
Miller sighed, rubbing his temples. He sat down. He looked at Leo. His face was... complicated.
"Vance," he said, his voice heavy. "This... 'brother'... of yours. This... Kian. The prodigy... who hates the game." He nodded, remembering their first conversation. "He's... good."
"He... he is," Leo admitted, his voice low.
"I... I don't care... where... you get... your data," Miller said, gesturing to Maya and Elara. "From them. From your brother. I don't care. Good data...is good data. But this..." (he gestured to the gym) "...this mutiny... this drama... that... will kill us... faster...than St. Jude's. Your... your team... is broken. Your trust... is gone."
Leo felt the weight of the world land on him.
"Fix it," Miller said. "That... is... your job... as Captain."
"How?" Leo whispered.
"That's your problem," Miller said. "Not mine. Now... get out of my office."
Leo walked out of the office in a daze. Practice was over. The gym was almost empty. The locker room was a tomb.
The rest of the team was there. Sam, Julian, Marcus. They were all dressed, their bags packed, waiting.
They just... looked at him.
"Leo," Julian said, his voice quiet. He was the senior. The other captain. "You... you should have told us. You... especially... should have told me. We're... we're a team. We're... co-captains."
"I... I couldn't," Leo said, his voice breaking. He felt... small. "It's... his secret, Julian. Not... mine. He... he hates... all of this. I... I was... protecting him."
"And... what about us?" Sam asked, his voice full of a raw, profound hurt. "That... shot... I made... was that...me? Or... was that...just...one of his...plays? Am... am I... just... a piece... in...his...game?"
"No, Sam!" Leo insisted, his eyes stinging. "That was you! You hit the shot!"
"But... he... told you... to pass it... to the corner, didn't he?" Sam asked. "He... knew... my flaw. He... told you... how to...fix me. It... it wasn't... you. It... wasn't... me. It... was him. All of it... was him."
Leo had no answer. Because... it was true.
He had lost them. He had lost his team.
He grabbed his bag, his heart a cold, hard stone. He walked out.
Chloe was waiting by the lobby doors. She saw his face. Her bright, easy smile... died.
"Leo...?" she said, her voice small. "What... what happened? I... I heard... yelling..."
"I... I can't, Chloe," he said, his voice dead. He couldn't even look at her. He... he... was a fraud. He... was... a puppet. "I... I can't... do this... right now. I... I have to go home."
He walked right past her, leaving her standing in the empty lobby, her hand half-extended. He had to fix this.
The drive home was a blur of cold, shaking rage.
He wasn't just mad. He was humiliated. He was betrayed.
This... this was all Kian's fault.
Kian, with his secrets. Kian, with his data. Kian, who had to help, who had to be the smartest one in the room. He... he had used Leo. He had used Leo's team... as his own...lab. Just like... just like his father.
Leo slammed open the front door of the Vance estate. The marble hall echoed.
"KIAN!" he roared. His voice was a raw, wounded sound.
Alicia came running from the kitchen, a dishtowel in her hands. "Leo! What on earth? What's wrong? You're... you're white..."
"Where IS he?" Leo demanded.
"He's... I... I think... he's in the old gym, honey," she said, her face pale with fear. "He... he took... some... kids... there... your grandfather... he..."
Kids? Leo didn't even process this. It was... more secrets. It was all secrets. He just moved.
He stormed down the hall. He ran through the glass walkway. He didn't knock. He slammed the heavy oak doors open.
BANG!
The scene in front of him was... surreal.
The private, haunted, perfect gym was... alive.
Kian was in the middle of the floor, his floor. He was... holding a whistle. He was pacing. He was coaching.
Six small children were in a perfect 1-4 formation, all of them looking at Kian with a focus that was... absolute. They were his... team.
Kian looked up, his face a mask of cold, white-hot fury at the interruption. His sanctuary... invaded.
"Get out," Kian snarled, his voice low and dangerous.
"You," Leo said, his voice shaking with a rage Kian had never heard. "You... did this."
Kian was confused. His "Coach" persona... crumbled. "Did what? Get out, Leo. This... this isn't... for you."
"You ruined it!" Leo roared, walking onto the court, ignoring the terrified, wide-eyed kids. "You... and your spying... and your data... and your... your secrets! You... you had to help! You had to be... the smart one!"
"Leo, what are you talking about?" Kian said, his voice rising, his own confusion turning to panic.
"DYLAN KNOWS! SIENNA TOLD HIM! THE WHOLE TEAM... KNOWS!"
Kian's face went white. He... understood.
"They... they think... I'm a fraud!" Leo was yelling, his face inches from Kian's. "They... they think... I'm your...puppet! Sam... Sam... thinks... his shot... wasn't his! He... thinks... it was...YOURS!"
"I... I was... helping..." Kian whispered, his own world collapsing.
"You WEREN'T helping! You were controlling! Just... just like... him!" Leo shouted, finally, finally... using the weapon... he never...wanted...to use.
Kian recoiled. As if he'd been physically struck.
"You... you can't...just...let me...have...ONE THING!" Leo roared, his pain pouring out. "You... you had to... get in...my head! You... you had to... fix it! You... you... BROKE... MY TEAM!"
Leo was heaving, his eyes wild with the pain of the accusation.
Kian was... frozen. He... he stared... at his... brother. He... he looked... at his...own...terrified...kids. He... he looked... at his...playbook...on the...whiteboard.
*He... he had... fixed...Leo's team.
*He... he had...fixed...Milo's shot.
*He... he was...a...fixer.
And... in the...process... he...had...broken...everything.
"Mister...?" Milo whispered, his voice trembling.
Kian... couldn't...breathe. He... he looked...at Leo's...betrayed...face.
He... he dropped...the whistle. It clattered... loudly...on the...perfect...floor.
And... for the...second time...in...his life... he...ran.
He ran... from his...father.
He ran... from his...grandfather.
And now... he...ran...from his...brother.
He bolted... past Leo. He ran... out of...his...own gym.
Leaving Leo... and his...own...broken...team... standing...there...in the...silence.