January 9 – 2:13 a.m. | Kingston DocksThe sea air stank of iron and salt.
Kyle waited under the dim streetlight, hoodie low, heart loud in his chest.
Out of the shadows came Scully—old-school, eyes sharp, dreadlocks gray at the tips.
"Mi told you once. This road only lead one place."
Kyle didn't blink.
"Mi tired of looking over mi shoulder."
Scully handed him a paper.
A single name.
A location.
A delivery truck.
Tuesday.
"That's the one who left the note. He move through Jungle. Him report to Chino's cousin. But him don't know you watching."
Kyle stared at the paper.
"What happen if mi just talk to him?"
Scully grunted.
"You ain't looking to talk."
Kyle didn't respond.
His hands shook.
January 10 – Kingston Sports Complex | Championship Game DayJamaica vs. Bahamas.
U17 Caribbean Final.
Hundreds filled the bleachers.
Reporters. Scouts. NBA whispers.
Even a few foreign agents in suits.
But Kyle wasn't thinking about basketball.
Not at first.
He hadn't slept in 36 hours.
He hadn't prayed.
He hadn't cried.
His heart was somewhere between survival and destruction.
Pregame Speech – Coach WhitmoreThe locker room buzzed.
Jerseys on.
Shoes tied.
Breath shallow.
Coach stood before them.
"This is your home. Your court. Yuh brothers beside you. Play not just for yourself, but for every kid in Spanish Town who only dreamin'. Every youth watching from behind zinc fences and broken glass TVs."
He looked at Kyle last.
"Play for her."
Kyle nodded.
One breath.
One heartbeat.
"Mi ready."
Tip-Off – The War BeginsThe Bahamas team came in confident. Their star forward, Malik Benson, was a 6'7" slasher with a mouth like a rapper and a vertical like a pogo stick.
Kyle didn't care.
First possession:
Kyle chased Malik down. Blocked his dunk. Slammed it against the backboard so hard the ref flinched.
"This mi house," he growled.
The crowd erupted.
First Half – A Blood SportElbows.
Hard screens.
Trash talk with venom.
At one point, Malik elbowed Kyle in the gut. Ref called a double foul.
Kyle stood up slow, eyes never leaving his.
"Next one drop blood."
By halftime:
Kyle: 12 points, 6 rebounds, 2 blocks
Malik: 14 points, 4 assists
Score: Bahamas 41 – Jamaica 39
But the game?
The game wasn't just about hoops.
It was about everything.
Halftime – The MessageKyle opened his locker.
Another note.
Folded small.
Slipped into his shoe.
"We know where your father live. You step outta line, he next."
His jaw locked.
His father. Absent most of his life. Living quiet in St. James.
Kyle hadn't spoken to him in years.
But now?
Now they were reaching into every crack of his soul.
He walked out the locker room without saying a word.
Second Half – Controlled ChaosHe didn't rage.
He locked in.
Kyle became a ghost in sneakers.
Help defense.
Drop coverage.
Backdoor seals.
Every time Malik touched the ball, Kyle was already there.
By mid-fourth, Kyle had:
20 points
11 rebounds
4 blocks
2 steals
Last 2 Minutes – All TiedScore: 67–67
Bahamas had the ball.
Malik iso'd on the wing.
Kyle switched onto him.
The crowd rose.
Malik drove.
Cross. Step-back.
Kyle read it. Stole it.
He took it coast-to-coast.
One defender jumped—
Kyle went through him.
And-1.
Arena erupted.
Free throw?
Swish.
Jamaica up 70–67.
Final SecondsBahamas missed a desperation three.
Rebound to Kyle.
Horn blared.
Game over.
Jamaica U17 Champions.
Teammates rushed him. Poured water. Screamed.
But Kyle?
He just dropped to his knees.
Looked at the ceiling.
And whispered:
"Mi did it, Mama."
Postgame – Medal CeremonyThey handed him the MVP trophy.
Camera flashes. Applause.
People chanted his name.
"KYLE! KYLE! KYLE!"
But Kyle's hands shook.
Not from joy.
From what came next.
Back at the Hotel – The Final DecisionKyle sat on his bed.
The paper still in his hand.
The name. The plan. The route.
He stared for an hour.
Then picked up the hotel phone.
Dialed Dre.
"Call it off."
Silence.
"Yuh sure?"
Kyle nodded slowly, though no one saw it.
"Mi nah go down that road. Not for her. Not for them. Not even for me."
Dre exhaled.
"Yuh stronger than most. Most woulda burned it all down."
Kyle ended the call.
And cried.
For the first time in weeks.
Final Scene – The MirrorHe stood in the bathroom.
Looked in the mirror.
Face swollen. Eyes tired. Shoulders heavy.
But alive.
"Mi still here."
He touched the MVP trophy on the counter.
"This ain't the end."