The locker room had gone quiet in the days after the leak.
Laughs were shorter. Conversations died mid-sentence. And everyone had stopped calling each other "bro."
Perfect.
Rafael played his role flawlessly—still the rising star, still the smiling rookie. But beneath that grin was calculation. He had studied their routines. Their weaknesses.
And now he knew who would crack first.
Jude.
The jokester. The follower. The one who'd held Eli's arms down but hadn't landed the final blow. Not like Tyson. Not like Marco.
Jude had always needed approval—needed to be told he was good, funny, useful.
Now, Rafael would give him exactly that.
Wednesday – Team Gym
Jude was alone on the treadmill, sweat pouring, eyes locked on the news broadcast playing on the screen above.
"Mystery footage from Horizon High raises serious questions about youth sports culture. Sources say a player may have died after a brutal locker room beating. No arrests have been made…"
Rafael approached slowly, bottle of water in hand.
"You good?" he asked casually.
Jude flinched. "Yeah. Yeah, just… trying to clear my head."
Rafael passed him the water. "You're playing great lately. Coach said your footwork's gotten sharper."
Jude blinked, surprised. "Really? You think so?"
Rafael smiled. "You don't give yourself enough credit, man. I've seen you in training. You've got a good heart."
That word.
Heart.
It hit Jude like a slap.
Rafael saw it. Saw the way his throat bobbed, the sweat spike, the twitch in his eye.
He leaned in slightly.
"You ever… mess up so bad, you wonder if it's still worth chasing the dream?"
Jude paused the treadmill. "What do you mean?"
Rafael looked away, let just enough sadness touch his voice.
"I knew a guy back home. Good kid. Better than me, honestly. Got bullied bad. Never saw him again. Always wondered if I could've done something."
Jude looked down. His hands were shaking now.
"Sometimes it's not your fault," he whispered. "You just… go along with it. You don't know what's gonna happen."
Rafael locked eyes with him. "But we still pay for it. One way or another."
Jude looked like he might be sick.
And Rafael, quietly, sweetly, added:
"If you ever need to talk, I'm around. Not judging. Just listening."
He walked away then, leaving Jude to drown in the silence.
The first fracture had formed.
And Rafael wasn't done yet.
Tyson didn't trust silence.
Not on the pitch. Not in the locker room. And definitely not in the apartment he now paced like a caged animal.
Something was wrong.
Jude was jumpy. Marco had stopped replying to group texts. Even Coach had started acting weird—calling late, asking about the past, about Horizon.
And now?
The press was digging too deep. A reporter had shown up outside training asking him about "an unnamed student who died under suspicious circumstances."
How the hell did they even know it was him?
He slammed a beer bottle onto the counter.
It didn't make sense. They were careful. Always had been. Eli had just… vanished. No one ever talked. Not for years.
But the video was real.
And if that video could surface—
So could the rest.
Tyson grabbed his phone. Opened the old group chat. Scrolled.
Jude had barely said a word all week.
Marco was full-on ghost mode.
Only one person stayed consistent.
Rafa.
Too consistent.
He was always early. Always helpful. Always friendly with the media. The guy everyone loved. Too clean.
Tyson remembered his face the day the video leaked—how calm he looked while the rest of them panicked.
A thought hit him.
No one else outside the team had reason to dig that deep into Horizon.
Except someone with a score to settle.
He opened a new tab on his phone.
Typed in:
"Horizon High student death 5 years ago."
Hit search.
Names popped up. Blurred photos. A few articles. One caught his eye.
Elias "Eli" Santana – promising youth footballer found dead in school locker room. No witnesses. Case dismissed as cardiac failure. No suspects. Age: 17.
Tyson stared.
The face was familiar. But… different.
Older. Thinner.
Then he froze.
The eyes.
They looked just like Rafa's.
No.
It couldn't be.
Could it?
His finger hovered over the phone. He zoomed in on Eli's face.
He remembered that last moment.
How Eli had looked up at him, bleeding, barely breathing, eyes filled with rage.
And now—
Those same eyes were back. Wearing a smile. Wearing their uniform.
Watching them.