PREVIEW

... and the long golden drag of a Monaco sunset pressing across the pitch like a spotlight dimming.

Plastic water bottles hissed open in tired hands. Boots dragged lazily over the turf. Laughter came in brief flashes—nothing loud, nothing forced. The kind of sound that came after a hard session, when muscle ache dulled ego and words came easy.

Demien sat near the equipment crates at the far sideline, bench beneath him, elbows resting on his knees. One palm loosely held a folded clip ...

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