Ethan clenched his fists slowly, heart steady.
It was time.
He stood, not like someone rising from exhaustion—but like a switch had flipped. His movements were crisp, precise, his steps silent yet purposeful. Even the way he exhaled seemed sharpened. His gaze zeroed in on Venganza's defensive setup—an aggressive man-press that shifted like a hive, perfectly timed, perfectly synchronized.
"I have a plan." Ethan said, his voice calm but decisive.
Charlotte blinked, caught off guard.
"What do we do?" she asked, arms still crossed but her tone more alert now, curious.
Ethan turned his head slowly, scanning his team. Their jerseys clung to sweat, their faces marked with fatigue, but they were all still standing. Still waiting.
He met each of their eyes, then said with cold clarity:
"Charlotte. Off-ball fake then cut baseline. Lucas—decoy. Pull your defender out, top-right. Evan, fake screen then curl. Louie, drag your man to the wing. I'll hit the gap."
