Ethan's POV
The buzzer faded into nothing, leaving only the echo of my heartbeat in my ears. 103–97. Victory. Technically, a win. But the scoreboard didn't matter. Not really.
(That… was brutal.)
My legs felt like lead, sweat and adrenaline still pouring from every pore. I could still feel Darius's energy, the raw willpower he poured into the court. He had pushed his team past exhaustion, past fear, past the easy margin. And I had… met him. Every dribble, every cut, every pass and fake—it had all been a conversation. A battle of wills.
I dropped to the floor, back against the gym wall, letting the chaos of cheers wash over me. The shouts of our bench, Louie and Kai screaming, Jeremy clapping, Brandon's quiet nod of approval—all of it drowned out by my own pulse.
(I didn't even play full throttle… and yet it still felt like war.)
