The players’ eyes widened at the sight of Coach Kirk. Their wet palates flipped dry. The excitement that had sat firmly on their tongues evaporated, replaced by a hard lump that lodged deep in the back of their throats. One by one they swallowed, each gulp a guilty plea that weighed heavy on their chests. Chairs creaked under the slow retreat of bodies as they sank back, spines glued to the pads, eyes locked forward like prisoners awaiting sentence.

  The assistant coaches were no different. They withered into the corners of their seats, their faces angled toward the windows, eyes pretending to fix on the blur of the city. Silent. Distant. Oblivious. It was cowardice dressed as ignorance—an easy escape that absolved them of blame without a single word spoken.

  Coach Kirk still had Gabriel’s wrist locked in his grip, the veins in his hand standing out like roots. Gabriel’s eyes darted around the bus, searching for a lifeline, but every face turned away in fear. And finally—his gaze landed on Jai-Lee—his anchor, the one he thought he could always trust. But when her eyes found his, her head lowered, slow and deliberate. She wouldn’t back him this time.

  Gabriel’s anger simmered, boiling in his stare as he turned back to Coach Kirk.

  I’ve seen those eyes before… my brother, that night on the roof. His disappointment in Dad. His rage at all the failed promises. Coach Kirk carries those same eyes.

  “But co—”

  “—But nothing, Gabriel.” Kirk’s voice cut him down like a blade. He wasn’t about to let Gabriel spin an excuse, not when the weight of the team’s eyes bore down on him. His jaw tightened, his lips barely parting as he forced the words out.

  Gabriel’s shoulders slumped, his gaze falling away. When Kirk finally released his grip, Gabriel’s arm dropped uselessly to his side. And just like that, his bubble burst. He had fought fire with fire, thrown Harry’s venom right back at him—but in the end, he was the one burnt.

  Coach Kirk’s eyes darted between Harry and Gabriel before dropping in disappointment. He exhaled heavily, the sigh dragging itself from his chest like it carried the whole weight of the entire school.

  “I say this with a heavy heart… but Harry—Gabriel, you two are on the bench tonight.”

  “What?!” they both shouted in unison, their heads snapping toward each other.

  Harry let out a sharp hmph, scowling as he turned his head aside. “What are you so shocked about, loser? The bench already had your name all over it.”

  Gabriel’s eyes widened, his fingers curling loosely into a fist before relaxing at his side once more. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Harry? This so-called bench warmer ran rings around your team without breaking a sweat. Not bad for a guy who has his name written all over the bench, huh?”

  Harry’s jaw clenched, his face twitching with barely contained fury. “Let’s get one thing straight—you had the element of surprise. No expectations on your shoulders, and you caught us off guard. Let’s see if you can do it again—because we both know lightning doesn’t strike twice. The gig is up for you.”

  His grin spread slowly, devilish at the corners, his eyes narrowing as he raised his hand toward Gabriel. His fingers waved tauntingly, baiting him, daring him to lash out. But Gabriel didn’t move. He held his ground.

  “Enough!”

  Coach Kirk’s voice exploded, raging like thunder and striking like lightning. The word hit them both so hard it pinned them in place, silence swallowing the bus whole. His stare sliced through the tension like a knife through butter.

  “This is exactly my point. You’re constantly at each other’s throats, refusing to let go. I cannot tolerate such behaviour on this team, or at this school. It stops now. You two will be the example to the rest of the team—that there will be heavy tolls to pay for this kind of behaviour.”

  Gabriel and Harry opened their mouths to protest, but one look at Kirk’s unblinking stare cut them down. The gavel had fallen. The sentence was passed.

  “And Harry—Gabriel’s on this team. We need him.”

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  Harry snapped his hand up, slicing through coach Kirk’s words. His chuckle rolled out low and mocking, growing until he clutched his stomach.

  “Need him? Good one, Coach. No one ever told me you were a comedian.” His grin split wider, his eyes drilling into Gabriel. “We don’t need a lunatic like him. We’ve got enough players who can do the job just as well. Get it into your head, kid—we. Do. Not. Need. You. Nor do we want you.” His finger jabbed toward Gabriel, each word hammering like a nail.

  Coach Kirk raised his head, his gaze drifting upward to the roof of the bus. His palm dragged across his face as though he could wipe away the disappointment clinging to him.

  “If that were true, Harry, we would’ve made it to the state championships instead of watching from home on our couches.”

  His eyes dropped again, darting between the two boys. His voice sharpened, calm but heavy with steel. “Listen. I know you two don’t see eye to eye, and I’m not asking you to be friends. But one thing you will do when you’re here is respect this team—and every man on it.”

  Harry flung his hands into the air, conceding with a scoff. “Whatever you say, Coach.” He stomped back to his seat.

  To coach Kirk, maybe it looked like surrender. But Gabriel saw it in his eyes—this was far from over.

  You think I’m going to just let sleeping dogs lie, Gabriel? Oh no. You better keep your wits about you, because this is only the beginning.

  Harry slumped into his chair, his glare sweeping over the teammates around him. “Don’t think I’m going to let it slide that you all just sat there and let him do that.”

  No one answered. Their silence was deafening. Their hearts thudded in their chests, hands trembling at their sides. He hadn’t needed to spell it out—they’d known him long enough to understand. His words were a threat, sharpened and waiting.

  As the players settled into their seats, the coach drove out of the school and through the city, carrying them toward the game.

  Gabriel rose quietly, sliding into the seat beside Jai-Lee. His voice was low, but the frustration still bled through.

  “Why didn’t you have my back out there, Jai?”

  Jai-Lee’s eyes closed for a moment before she let out a quiet breath. She turned to him, her voice firm but steady.

  “Gabe—listen. I tried to stop you from going down that rabbit hole, but did you listen? No. Instead, you and Harry pounded your chests like alpha males. And you know how that always ends—trouble. Every fight Harry drags people into ends the same way, and you knew it. I knew it. But instead of listening, you walked straight down to the bottom step with him.

  “I get it—balancing school life with superhero life is brutal. You’re the first and only one to ever carry that weight, so yeah, I sympathize. But you can’t use his weapons against him. You can’t fight a war on two fronts using the same poison your enemy drinks from. That’s not how you win, Gabe.”

  Gabriel leaned back in his seat, his eyes drifting toward the window. His thoughts wound tight around each other like tangled vines. Every time he tried to pull one free, another one twisted tighter. He was so certain he had been doing the right thing that he hadn’t seen how blind he’d become.

  “How could I have gotten it so wrong?” he muttered under his breath.

  “I was only trying to fight back against the elites,” he said, voice thick with conviction. “To fight for the little man who had the fight bullied out of him. For the ones who cried out for help, over and over, and were ignored every single time, Jai.”

  Jai-Lee rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch soft but grounding, her voice cutting through his storm like balm on a wound. “I understand your intentions, Gabe. They were honourable. But two wrongs don’t make a right. They only lead to war—and chaos.”

  Gabriel didn’t answer. He just stared out the coach window as the city passed in what seemed a blur, his reflection staring back at him. There was no escaping the man in the mirror.

  The coach drove steadily through the streets, and as the driver looked at the red clock hanging above his head—he knew they would have arrived on time. That was until they made a sharp right onto Marybond Avenue.

  Ahead, brake lights glared in endless rows. Cars, buses, and trucks stretched out in what looked like a river with no end in sight. The driver hesitated, his fingers curled around the steering wheel as he pressed his hand tightly into the leather. His eyes shifted between the traffic built up in the front and the traffic building up in the back. He was tempted to turn back. But before he could, more vehicles piled up behind them, trapping the bus like concrete shackles.

  Time bled away in silence. The boys shifted restlessly, checking their watches, their nerves climbing as each second ticked by.

  Then came the sound.

  Whup-whup-whup.

  The heavy chop of helicopter blades rotated the sky, shaking the bus windows as they passed. The noise pressed down like a war drum from above, every beat hammering against Gabriel’s chest.

  His head shot up, eyes locking on the sky. “Jai… those are police helicopters. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Something’s not right.”

  Jai pressed her face against the cold window, her breath fogging the glass as she tilted her head upward.

  Then the radio that had lost its signal shot to life. The voice that came through was jagged and full of static, but as the static cleared, the message was clear for all to hear, tearing through the silence that plagued the coach, shocking them back to life, restarting every heart.

  “…Heist at Pershall Bank. Hostages taken.”

  Gabriel’s gaze quickly tore from the sky and straight to Jai-Lee. Her eyes were wide, her facial expression mirroring Gabriel’s.

  No words were spoken. None were needed.

  The truth was already written all over their faces.

  This wasn’t just traffic.

  This wasn’t just some coincidence.

  This—was the kind of moment that needed a hero.