PREVIEW

... ide, the sky was ink, broken only by the occasional blink of winglight cutting across the clouds. The cabin was quiet—players scattered through the rows, some dozing, others with screens flickering in their laps. Jake sat alone near the back, hood up, eyes locked to his tablet. Strasbourg's midfield shifted across the screen in 0.25x speed, a match from two weeks ago. Nothing extraordinary at first glance. But that was the danger.

He watched the same movement loop again.

Harrell' ...

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