Ryan pushed the ball past half court, low dribble, eyes scanning.
The Boulders' point guard was right there with him—shadowing every move. There was no daylight, no breathing room beyond the arc now. They'd learned their lesson.
Crossover. Stutter step. Behind the back. Ryan threw every trick he had at the defender, trying to crack the armor. Nothing worked. The defense stuck to him like glue, refusing to bite.
He had to give it up.
The Roarers swung the ball around the perimeter, trying to create something—anything. But the Boulders were locked in, switching seamlessly, closing out every passing lane like they'd memorized the playbook. Every shot attempt was contested. Every dribble was a risk.
Seconds bled off the clock.
The offense started to rush. The rhythm turned jagged.
Desperation crept in.
Darius caught it at the top, forced a skip pass—too slow, too telegraphed.
Interception.
The Boulders' guard snatched it midair and turned jets on.
