It began with Rojas, of all people.
Ten minutes in—AZ still pressing high, still believing they could force the mistake—they didn't notice the shift. Rojas stepped inside with his first touch, eyes scanning ahead. Ethan was there, just off his shoulder, and he gave it to him early.
Ethan didn't stop it. Just redirected it, smooth and quick. And Rojas was gone.
The fullback exploded forward past halfway—head down, stride full, not wild but measured. One-two. The wall pass came from Roney, perfectly clipped between two defenders. Not too soft, not too loud.
Jake stepped forward at the same time—just one step. His arms stayed folded.
Rojas curved his run toward the right edge of the box. The defence was recovering late. He didn't look up. He didn't need to. His left foot hooked around the ball and dragged it hard and flat across the six-yard box.
It was too fast for defenders to stretch. Too low for the keeper to gamble.
Silva arrived like he'd been there the whole time.
