The hotel room was dark except for the glow of the city through the window.
Leo lay on his bed, his knee propped on a pillow, his phone in his hands. Kai was in the next bed, already asleep, his breathing slow and steady. The clock on the nightstand read 11:47 PM. The final was in less than twelve hours.
He couldn't sleep. His mind was racing, replaying every point of the semifinal, every kill, every error, every moment when his knee had screamed and he'd ignored it. He'd been lucky. Lucky that the tear had held. Lucky that the pain had stayed manageable. Lucky that his body had done what he'd asked.
But luck ran out.
His phone buzzed. A text from Maya: “Heard you made the final. Don't screw it up.”
Leo typed back: “My knee is held together with tape and hope.”
Maya: “Same as always.
