Two weeks until playoffs.
The scoreboard buzzed. Final buzzer. Rose Heights: 72. Rivals from Allman Town: 64.
Kyle walked off the court, jersey soaked, wrist sore, but heart thumping like a war drum.
That was win number 9.
Their best record in years.
Coach Barrett pulled him aside after the team huddled up.
"You know who was in the crowd?"
Kyle blinked. "No."
Coach smiled slightly, eyes hard with meaning. "JABA. Jamaica Amateur Basketball Association. U16 development scouts."
Kyle's chest tightened.
"They've got trials in two months. Kingston. They said they'd send your name forward."
For a moment—just a second—Kyle felt like breathing fire.
Until reality returned.
Because standing by the exit gate of the gym?
Chino.
Arms folded. Sunglasses on. Grinning through gold teeth.
That Night – Ghost's Court
Kyle dribbled in silence, sweat falling like rain.
Ghost sat in the dark, smoking.
"You making noise now," he said.
Kyle didn't stop. "JABA was there."
Ghost nodded. "Mi know."
"They might pick me."
"They will."
Kyle finally stopped. "But Chino's watching me."
Ghost stood.
Walked closer.
"Not just watching," he said. "He's asking questions. About your family. About your mama."
Kyle's fists clenched.
"Mi not doing anything for him."
Ghost stared hard. "Then get ready to pay a price for saying no."
Rose Heights – Tuesday
The neighborhood buzzed.
Posters of Kyle were plastered across walls, with captions like:
"KING KYLE – U16 NEXT STAR?"
"JAMAICA'S OWN #1 RANKED YOUTH?"
He walked through the market with his hoodie up, trying to avoid attention.
Didn't help.
Vendors gave him free food.
Kids begged for photos.
But behind the smiles?
Eyes watched him.
Especially from a black Corolla parked outside a barbershop.
Kyle felt them. Felt the tension. Felt the weight.
He walked faster.
Home
He locked the front door behind him.
His mom was sleeping on the couch after her night shift.
He looked at her—face lined, body tired, heart always soft.
Then his phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
📲 "We see yuh, starboy. Meet mi tomorrow after practice. Alone. Or things get… complicated."
— C.
Kyle's hand shook.
He deleted the message.
But not the fear.
Practice – Wednesday
Coach noticed his energy.
"You alright?" he asked.
Kyle nodded. "Just focused."
Truth was—he hadn't slept.
Rico's death. Chino's threat. His mother's safety. The growing spotlight. And now JABA?
It was all a spinning wheel of pressure with blades on every edge.
During drills, his passes were a second late.
His shot—off.
His mind—everywhere but here.
After Practice – The Meeting
Kyle walked down to the abandoned warehouse by the port.
No one around.
Just silence and salt in the air.
Chino was waiting.
Three men behind him. All armed.
Kyle walked up slowly. Hands in pockets. Face stone cold.
"You're bold," Chino said, smiling. "I like that."
Kyle didn't respond.
Chino stepped forward. "JABA's eyes on you. U16 selection. Big stage. National team. International scouts."
Still, Kyle stayed silent.
Chino's smile faded.
"You're rising, starboy. But don't forget who holds the ladder."
Then he leaned in.
"You make the team… you wear our brand. You speak our message. You play for SixRings. Or you don't play at all."
Kyle stepped back.
Voice steady.
"Mi would rather lose than wear your chain."
Chino's eyes narrowed.
"Then prepare to lose more than games."
Next Day – School
Police cars at the front gate.
Someone spray-painted "SNITCH" across the gym wall.
Coach Barrett pulled Kyle into his office. His voice low. Firm.
"This ain't just ball anymore. JABA called me. They heard rumors. Chino's name is floating."
Kyle's jaw locked. "What'd you tell them?"
"I told them you're clean. That you're a player—not a puppet. But that won't matter if things keep getting messy."
A beat.
Then Coach sighed.
"I want to keep you safe, son. But I can't protect you from everything. You've got to start playing defense off the court now."
Neighborhood – That Weekend
Someone broke into Kyle's house.
Nothing was stolen.
But his room?
Torn apart.
A message.
Control.
His mom didn't say a word. Just hugged him tighter that night, whispering: "God cover you."
Kyle didn't cry.
Didn't blink.
But in his heart, something hardened.
Game Day – Final Season Game
The gym was packed.
Cameras.
Scouts.
U16 officials.
Everyone knew what this game meant.
Kyle came out like fire.
30 points. 8 rebounds. 5 assists. 4 steals.
Dominance.
But no smiles.
No celebrations.
Because he knew—Chino was still out there.
Watching.
Postgame – Outside the Gym
The black Corolla was waiting.
Ghost stood between it and Kyle.
Chino rolled down the window.
"You play hard," he said.
"Not for you," Kyle replied.
Chino leaned forward, smile gone.
"We'll see if the scouts still call your name… after the accident tomorrow."
Ghost took a step closer. "Try it. And you'll see what ghosts really do."
Chino laughed.
Then drove off.
Final Scene – Kyle Alone in the Gym
Late night.
Lights off.
Ball echoing in the dark.
He looked up at the rafters. Imagined a future where his jersey hung there.
But in his gut?
He knew there was still one game left.
A game not played on wood…
…but in shadows.