All Chapters of Touchdown For The Devil : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The first week of June arrived with a blazing summer heat that left Riverport's streets shimmering beneath the afternoon sun. Warm air drifted in from the river, carrying the scent of tar, rust, and weathered steel. Even so, the heat did little to slow the steady stream of evening traffic weaving through the The grand opening of Elena Reyes's first independent exhibition, New Works, took place on a Friday evening at an upscale downtown gallery. Housed in a beautifully restored brick warehouse just three blocks from the riverfront, the gallery blended industrial charm with modern elegance. Inside, crisp white walls, polished concrete floors, and towering windows filled the space with the warm, golden light of early summer. Ariana stood near the gallery entrance in a simple dark dress that kept her cool despite the summer heat. For the first time in months, she wasn't carrying a camera. Her equipment bag was zipped shut, tucked safely in the trunk of Dante's truck. She cradled a col

Ariana's official Riverport Hounds media badge swung lightly against her chest as she walked. The red team logo and bold ALL ACCESS lettering marked her as one of the few people allowed beyond the public areas of the stadium.At exactly two o'clock on a blistering July afternoon, Ariana stepped through the heavy security gates of the Riverport Hounds' training complex. The shift from the busy city streets was immediate. Beyond the gates stood a sprawling complex of steel, glass, and concrete, sealed off from the noise of the outside world. Heat shimmered above the practice fields as the temperature climbed to ninety-five degrees, and the bright green turf rippled beneath the relentless summer sun. Ariana carried her camera over one shoulder, her fingers curled around the grip of her telephoto lens. The documentary had been arranged weeks earlier between the residency program and the Riverport Hounds' front office, giving her rare behind-the-scenes access to the team's 2026 rookie cla

The General Manager's office sat on the third floor of the facility, its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the now-empty practice fields. The room smelled of expensive leather, stale coffee, and cool conditioned air.Dante sat in a black chair across from the mahogany desk. He hadn't changed out of his practice gear. His gray Hounds training shirt was still damp with sweat, and a faint smear of dirt streaked along his jaw. Arthur Vance, the team's General Manager, leaned back in his leather chair. He didn't look angry, but his face carried the composed, analytical expression of a man used to making difficult decisions. He tapped his fingers lightly against a thick media binder on his desk. "Your father just held a press conference outside Crestfield Iron's stadium," Vance said in a level voice. "The paperwork's done. He officially became a minority owner about twenty minutes ago.""I saw it on the stadium screen," Dante said evenly. "The sports networks are already running with

The middle of July was the toughest part of summer training. By three o'clock every afternoon, the sun hung over Riverport Stadium, turning the practice turf into an oven.Dante stood in the middle of the first-team huddle, his dark practice jersey soaked with sweat. Dust from the blocking sleds covered his shoulder pads. He took a long drink from his water bottle, wiped his face with a towel, and looked at the ten veteran players around him. Garrett Briggs was breathing hard, his hands resting on his knees. His face was bright red beneath his visor. "We're running it again," Dante said, his deep voice calm and steady despite the heat. "Inside zone on two. Briggs, keep an eye on the safety. If he creeps up early, we'll switch to the flat route." "You heard the kid, let's give him a clean pocket. Break." " Garrett grunted, straightening up and tightening his chin strap. The huddle broke with a loud clap. Dante jogged to the line and settled in behind the center. His cleats pounding

The north skylight in Ariana's fourth-floor residency studio filled the room with crisp afternoon light. She stood at the long wooden worktable, sorting through the final prints for her portfolio. Over the past three days, she had carefully chosen, sized, and mounted each photograph for her permanent project archive.The studio smelled of fresh paper, black ink, and thick mounting board. Behind her, twelve large prints hung in a neat row on the white gallery wall. Each one captured an honest moment from her summer documenting the Riverport riverfront.There were no flashy sports photos on the wall. Instead, Ariana had focused on the quiet, honest life of the riverfront. One print showed a crane operator's weathered hands gripping a steel control lever under the hot July sun. Another captured the morning fog lifting off a rusty cargo barge as soft gray light reflected across the water. Every photograph felt real. Together, they showed the strength and hard work of a city that never sto