Evan paused, the ball steady in his hands, eyes flickering through the defensive web that Forest spun before him.
But then—
He stopped scanning for the open man.
He didn't search for an advantage.
He looked for Lucas.
Not to call a play.
Not for a nod or a flash of fingers.
But for something deeper.
(Where is he... there. No signal. No call. Just... rhythm.)
Because Lucas Graves wasn't standing still.
He was already in motion
As if he'd heard a melody none of them could.
Smooth. Silent.
A ghost gliding across the arc.
He curled behind Ryan's step-in screen like silk through fingers
A motion so fluid it almost didn't exist.
And right behind him… Elijah Rainn.
Chasing.
Not out of desperation.
But with perfect form.
No panic. No wasted energy.
Eyes sharp. Shoulders squared.
Lucas didn't care.
He didn't need separation.
He didn't even need space.
He only needed timing.
(Trust me, Evan.)
Josh rotated to the corner, drawing Ayden.
