The morning of the Orlando City match, the locker room buzzed with nervous energy. Jerseys hung crisp and clean in every stall, the scent of fresh cut grass and leather cleats filled the air. Beats thumped from a portable speaker in the corner, but Kai Alexander didn't hear any of it.
He sat alone at the end of the bench, tying and untying his boots, his stomach a knot of nerves that had nothing to do with the game.
He couldn't carry it anymore.
Before the warmup whistle, before he stepped onto the pitch with the world watching, he had to tell someone.
Coach Morales was standing near the door, clipboard in hand, barking last-minute instructions to the staff. His face was all business, until he noticed Kai hovering awkwardly nearby.
"Kai? You good?" Morales asked, concern slipping into his voice.
Kai swallowed hard. "Coach… can we talk? Real quick."
Morales raised an eyebrow, but nodded, waving him into the small office next to the locker room.
Inside, the noise faded away. It was just the two of them, the clock ticking loud on the wall.
Kai didn't sugarcoat it. He couldn't. The words poured out of him like a dam breaking.
About Robert. About the stolen money. About Jerry, the corrupt agent. About the bruises he sometimes hid under his sleeves. About the fear that lived in his bones.
When Kai finally stopped talking, he realized he was shaking. He kept his head down, ashamed, afraid to see disgust or pity on Morales' face.
But when he finally looked up, the coach wasn't disgusted.
He just looked… broken.
"Kid," Morales said quietly, sitting down across from him. "I had no idea."
Kai forced a weak smile. "I hid it pretty good."
"You don't have to fight this alone anymore," Morales said. "You're a minor, we can get legal involved. I can get the club's help. The league…"
"No," Kai cut him off, voice sharp. "No press. No lawyers. Not yet. I need to move smart. I can't show my hand to him or my mom and siblings will pay for it."
Morales hesitated, studying him, seeing not a boy but someone much older, forged in fire.
"Then what do you need?"
Kai's voice cracked just a little when he said it: "Maybe a new agent. Someone who can help me. Someone I can trust."
Morales nodded without hesitation. "Leave it to me. I'll find you the right people."
Kai exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Thanks, Coach," he said, standing. "I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything," Morales said. "You just go out there tonight and play your heart out."
Kai grinned — and for the first time in a long time, it felt real.
Fifteen minutes later, after Kai left, Morales pulled out his phone.
This couldn't wait.
Call after call went out — to contacts, friends in the business, even a few enemies. Within the hour, his inbox buzzed with names: big-time agents, powerhouse agencies. Names that could get Kai out of this nightmare and into the future he deserved.
But one name caught Morales' attention.
Sarah Morgan.
An independent agent. Former player herself. Tough. Honest. Known for taking care of her clients like family.
Morales leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
Maybe, just maybe — she was exactly what Kai needed.
The stadium was already a madhouse when Kai stepped onto the pitch.
The air vibrated with noise. Red and black smoke from the supporters' section curled into the sky. Banners waved. Drums pounded like war beats.
Orlando's traveling fans screamed from their corner, purple shirts in a sea of Atlanta red.
This wasn't just a match.
This was war.
Kai felt the energy crackling in his veins as he jogged to the center circle. All the anger, the fear, the helplessness — it melted into something pure, something sharp.
Focus.
The whistle blew — and the storm began.
From the opening minutes, Orlando came hard. Their midfielders pressed high, their defenders threw tackles like grenades. It was clear: they were targeting Kai.
And he loved it.
In the 8th minute, he danced past two defenders on the left wing, cutting inside with a flash of speed that brought the crowd to its feet. His cross found striker Miguel Sanchez at the near post — but Sanchez's header bounced just wide.
Groans echoed, but Kai just nodded.
Next time.
In the 22nd minute, Orlando struck first, catching Atlanta on the counterattack. 1-0 to the visitors.
The stadium fell silent — but only for a short while.
Because the moment the ball was back at Kai's feet, the noise roared back louder than ever.
In the 30th minute, he made his move.
He picked up the ball near midfield, three defenders closing fast. A shimmy, a drag-back, a burst of acceleration — and suddenly he was through, streaking down the left flank like a comet.
Kai spotted Sanchez making a run, but held the ball a half-second longer, baiting the last defender before slipping a no-look pass between his legs.
Sanchez didn't miss this time.
1-1.
Kai pumped his fist to the sky as the stadium exploded. His teammates mobbed him, slapping his back, ruffling his hair.
But he barely noticed.
He wasn't done yet.
The second half was even more brutal. Tackles flew. Tempers flared. The ref handed out yellow cards like candy.
In the 67th minute, Kai was hacked down just outside the box, earning a dangerous free kick.
He stood over the ball, adjusting his socks, breathing slow.
The crowd chanted his name.
"KAI! KAI! KAI!"
He curled the ball into the box with surgical precision, and center-back Amadou Diarra rose highest, smashing a header into the net.
2-1, Atlanta.
Kai raised his arms, soaking in the roar. Two assists now. And the match wasn't over.
In the 84th minute, with Orlando pushing bodies forward desperately, Atlanta broke out on the counterattack.
Kai sprinted, lungs burning, legs screaming. The ball came to him at midfield, and with one touch he flicked it around his marker and kept running.
The last defender tried to foul him, yanking his jersey, grabbing at his arm — but Kai shrugged him off like a ghost.
He charged into the box, the keeper rushing out to close the angle.
Kai didn't panic.
He waited — just a heartbeat — then chipped the ball coolly over the sliding keeper.
The net rippled.
3-1.
Game over.
Kai slid on his knees toward the corner flag, arms wide, face tilted to the heavens.
For a moment, he was free.
Free of Robert. Free of fear. Free of everything.
His teammates swarmed him, the stadium vibrating like a living thing.
Atlanta United 3, Orlando City 1.
A star was born tonight, but the real Kai, the one few had ever seen, was just beginning to rise.
Later, in the locker room, as champagne sprayed and music blared, Morales caught Kai's eye across the room.
He gave a small, almost secret nod.
Kai nodded back.
He didn't know it yet, but Sarah Morgan had already agreed to meet.
A new life was closer than he ever dared dream…
But for now… tonight was his.
And nothing — no father, no agent, no fear — could take it away from him.