*CONTENT WARNING: 18+ LANGUAGE*
Kevin Trapp read it instantly.
The Frankfurt captain sprinted off his line, arms outstretched, and plucked the ball cleanly out of the air before Højlund could even jump. As Trapp landed, his eyes flicked upfield.
João's heart skipped.
Lukas had already moved.
The moment Trapp left his line, Lukas abandoned Ugarte's shadow and burst forward through the middle. He went from the edge of Frankfurt's defensive third to the halfway line in seconds, long strides eating up grass as Ugarte reacted too late.
Trapp didn't hesitate.
He launched a full throw with his right arm, the force so violent it pulled him off balance, his knee brushing the turf as the ball sailed forward.
"And there he goes," Goldbridge said sharply. "Oh—oh hold on—"
Lukas was off.
João leaned forward instinctively, the stadium noise swelling again as the ball arced through the air toward open space.
And for the first time all night, Old Trafford held its breath.
