Thud!
It sounded like a sledgehammer slamming into a drum.
Everyone stared as the ball slammed into Nate Johnson’s chest. For a brief second, he managed to clutch it to his body—then his face twisted, and a mouthful of blood burst from his lips as he was blasted backward.
He flew straight into the goal net.
The net caught him, barely.
A moment later, Nate slid down, collapsing onto the turf. The ball he’d been gripping rolled out of his arms and trickled across the line—right into the goal.
Goal!
The crowd erupted. Cheers and whistles filled the air—the sheer violence of that kick had been insane.
Dani Turner blew her whistle and shouted, “Third penalty—goal scored!”
Nate was still kneeling inside the goal, struggling to breathe. His men rushed forward in panic.
“Boss, you okay?!
