Chapter 3: No Going Back

I tore up the contract Mr. Carter gave me, then posted on Twitter right in front of him:

"Now a free agent. Any team needing a top laner, DM me."

The paper ripped with a satisfying sound. For a second, my hands shook. Was I really burning my only bridge? Then the anger flared up again, and I knew I’d made the right call. I tossed the shreds into the trash, pulled out my phone, and fired off the tweet. My thumb hovered over the send button for a split second, heart hammering. Then I hit it. The fluorescent lights flickered above as I pressed send.

His face went pale with rage. The academy top laner looked like he wanted to say something, but Mr. Carter shot him a glare and he shut up.

I caught Shawn’s eyes—he gave me a quick, apologetic shrug, then looked away. Mr. Carter’s jaw was set, lips pressed tight like he was biting back every curse word he knew.

"Fine, Caleb, you've got guts. Let's see if any org will pay big money for a washed-up veteran like you."

I almost laughed. He’d tried to cut me down, but I saw the fear behind his words.

When I dragged my suitcase out of the org, the teammates were still glued to their games, but all their screens were gray. Guess they'd seen my Twitter and heard the rumors, but no one dared say a word.

A couple lifted their headphones, eyes wide. One guy—Eli—opened his mouth, closed it, and stared back at his monitor. I just gave a small wave and kept moving.

Whatever. Teammates are only teammates when you're on the same team. Not anymore.

As the elevator doors closed, I let out a long, shaky breath. That was that.