The sun cast long shadows over the CF Igualada training ground as Daniel stepped onto the turf once more—back from Manchester, back from the Premier League, and back to the place that had sparked it all.
A group of teammates waved. Miguel jogged over first, grinning wide. "¡Hermano!" he called, slapping Daniel's back. "You didn't forget how to play Spanish football, did you?"
Daniel laughed. "Not a chance."
Luis followed closely, throwing his arm around both of them. "You survived England. You're basically a superhero now."
Sofia wasn't far behind. She walked over with that familiar half-smile, her eyes sparkling under the morning sun. "We've been keeping your seat warm, Carter."
He smiled back, heart skipping just a bit. "Good. Because I'm not planning on giving it up."
Training began, and Coach Morales didn't go easy on them. The drills were intense, the pace unforgiving. But Daniel kept up. His time at Man City had elevated him—he was sharper, faster, more aware.
Still, something hung in the air.
That night, back at Mateo's apartment, Daniel found himself restless. Mateo, flipping through a news channel, looked over. "You're not sleeping. Something on your mind?"
Daniel hesitated. "I thought I left it all behind. But I think they'll come looking again."
Mateo nodded slowly. "Then you better be ready. You've grown, Daniel. But the fight isn't just on the pitch anymore."
Outside, the night deepened, and Daniel stood by the window. Igualada's streets were calm. But in the quiet, he could almost feel the storm approaching again.
And this time, he wouldn't run.