THE RIVAL CAPTAIN

The first time I realized someone wanted me dead, I was standing on a basketball court with three seconds left on the championship clock. At the time, I thought the biggest threat in the arena was Rhett Calloway. I was wrong. Rhett had been trying to destroy me for three years. He had stolen my records, challenged my scores, beaten me by a single point, and made it his personal mission to remind me that I wasn’t as untouchable as everyone believed. But he wasn’t the person watching me from the shadows that night. He wasn’t the person who would eventually tear my entire life apart. And he definitely wasn’t the reason my supposedly dead father was about to become the biggest secret of my life.

Three seconds remained. The ball was in my hands, and the entire championship rested on my next move. The crowd was screaming so loudly that I could barely hear myself breathe. My teammates were shouting from the bench, the opposing fans were on their feet, and every professional scout sitting courtside had their eyes locked on me. The scoreboard read 88–87. We were losing. Across the court, Rhett stood between me and the basket. His jersey was soaked with sweat, his chest rising heavily, but his expression remained infuriatingly calm. Even then, there was something different about the way he looked at me, something I couldn’t understand.

I dribbled once and stepped backward. Rhett moved with me. I had one second left. I jumped, and he jumped too, his fingers nearly brushing the ball as I released it. The buzzer screamed through the arena. The ball struck the rim once, bounced upward, and dropped straight through the net. For one heartbeat, there was silence. Then the arena exploded. My teammates rushed toward me, screaming as they tackled me to the floor. The scoreboard changed to 89–88, and thousands of people erupted into celebration. We had won the championship.

I should have been thinking about the trophy. I should have been thinking about the professional scouts who had watched me put the game away. Instead, when I pushed myself off the floor, my eyes searched through the chaos for one person. Rhett. He was standing beneath the basket, completely still. He wasn’t celebrating. He wasn’t even angry. He was staring at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face before. Fear. Then he slowly walked toward me.

When he stopped in front of me, his eyes remained fixed on mine. “Enjoy it, Mercer.” I smiled despite my pounding heart. “Trust me, I am.” His jaw tightened. “You won’t next time.” I laughed. “You’ve been saying that for three years.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And you’ve been lucky for three years.” I shook my head. “Keep telling yourself that.” His eyes dropped briefly to my lips before returning to mine, and something strange passed between us. For a second, neither of us moved. Then he leaned closer and whispered, “Next season will be different.” Before I could ask what he meant, my teammates pulled me away.

I had no idea how right he was. For three years, Rhett Calloway had been my greatest rival. We played for rival universities, but our competition went far beyond basketball. If I scored twenty points, he scored twenty-five. If I broke a record, he found a way to break another. If scouts praised me, somehow his name ended up in the same conversation. The media had turned us into college basketball’s favorite rivalry, constantly asking which one of us was better. I always had the same answer. Me. Rhett always had the same answer. Him. Neither of us had ever been willing to admit otherwise.

That night was supposed to be the beginning of everything I’d worked for. I had one year left of college basketball, and if everything went according to plan, I would be signing a professional contract before graduation. The scouts sitting courtside had been watching me all season, and tonight’s performance was supposed to secure my future. My phone was overflowing with congratulatory messages as I returned to the locker room, where my teammates were celebrating around me. Music blasted through the room, water bottles were flying everywhere, and everyone was laughing. I smiled along with them, believing for a few minutes that my life was finally going exactly the way I’d planned.

Then Coach Danner walked into the locker room.

“Mercer.” His voice was calm, but his expression immediately wiped the smile from my face. I followed him into the hallway, and when the door closed behind us, the noise from the locker room became distant. “You played well tonight,” he said. “Thanks.” He hesitated before reaching inside his jacket and handing me a brown folder. “What’s this?” I asked. “Open it.” I did. The first pages contained my name, student information, athletic records, and several official documents. I read the first paragraph twice before the meaning finally hit me.

My stomach dropped. “What is this?” Coach looked at me carefully. “An eligibility complaint.” I stared at him. “What?” “Someone has challenged your eligibility.” My fingers tightened around the papers. “You told me my records were cleared.” “They were.” “Then why is this happening?” “We’re investigating.” I flipped through the documents faster. There were questions about my academic records, my training history, and financial support connected to my basketball career. “This is ridiculous.” Coach’s expression hardened. “That’s why we’re taking it seriously.” I looked at him. “Who filed it?” He shook his head. “We haven’t identified them yet.”

My heart began pounding. “Can this affect my draft status?” Coach didn’t answer immediately. That silence told me everything. “Coach.” He sighed. “It could.” The excitement I’d felt minutes earlier disappeared. Three years of sacrifice suddenly felt fragile. One complaint could make professional scouts question me. One investigation could delay my draft. One accusation could destroy everything I’d worked for. “Am I being cut?” I asked. “Not right now.” “That’s not what I asked.” Coach looked away for a moment. “If this isn’t resolved quickly, your position on the team could be reviewed.” I stared at the folder. Whoever had filed that complaint hadn’t chosen a random night. They had waited until I was closest to getting everything I’d ever wanted.

I closed the folder. “Whoever did this knew exactly when to strike.” Coach’s eyes hardened. “That’s why you can’t tell anyone.” I frowned. “Why?” He stepped closer. “Because we don’t know who else is involved.” Before I could respond, movement at the end of the hallway caught my attention. Rhett was standing there. His eyes were fixed on the folder in my hand. The moment our eyes met, something changed in his expression. It wasn’t surprise. It was recognition.

I walked toward him. “You knew.” Rhett raised an eyebrow. “Knew what?” I held up the folder. “This.” His face remained calm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stepped closer. “Don’t lie to me.” He gave me a faint smile. “I don’t lie.” “You were looking at this like you’ve seen it before.” His smile disappeared. For a moment, we stood so close that I could hear his breathing. Then his eyes shifted toward Coach’s office before returning to mine. “You need to be careful.” My irritation faded. “About what?” He lowered his voice. “Who you trust.” “That’s vague.” “It’s supposed to be.” He started walking away, but I caught his arm.

He stopped immediately and looked down at my hand around his wrist. I should have let go, but I didn’t. “Explain.” His eyes lifted to mine. “You don’t want to know.” “Try me.” He stared at me for a long moment before pulling his arm free. “You think the person who filed that complaint is your biggest problem.” I frowned. “Then who is?” Rhett’s expression became serious. “Someone close.” My stomach tightened. “Who?” He didn’t answer. He simply walked away, leaving me standing in the hallway with a feeling I couldn’t shake.