Mahomes never expected that after their happy reunion—there'd be an ambush waiting for him.
Pain shot up his shin, making him wince, his whole face scrunching like a steamed bun as he glared wide-eyed at Lance.
Lance was equally confused, blindsided by Brittany's sneak attack. Seeing Mahomes in pain, he almost felt it himself.
Then, putting on a "just eating popcorn" face, he gave Mahomes a sympathetic look.
Brittany's smile was all teeth, with zero warmth. She looked at Mahomes, then at Lance, then back at Mahomes again.
"You really should be sorry. Let me tell you, this is the last time—or next time, I'm keeping those beefcake photos too."
Mahomes didn't even have time to react to Lance before turning, stunned, to Brittany. "What? Other than Michael B. Jordan, no one else is allowed?"
Without bothering to answer, she turned and walked away.
But as she passed Lance, she lifted her head and silently mouthed, "Thanks."
Before Lance could respond, Brittany was already heading for the door.
Mahomes hurried after her, skipping packing altogether. He clapped Lance on the shoulder as he passed. "Bro, I'm heading back." Then he jogged to catch up to Brittany.
The house, after that brief burst of chaos, fell quiet again.
So quiet, in fact, that the silence felt heavier—like all the noise in the world had been switched off.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the first rays of sunlight tore through the morning mist, threads of pale gold slowly soaking into the gray haze. The world brightened bit by bit, life stirring awake from its slumber. Even the dust in the air seemed to dance with joy, and the mood lifted along with it.
"He's here, he's there…"
"Come on, we can do this—show them what we've got!"
"We are! Chiefs! We are! Chiefs!"
"No matter what happens, we fight side by side!"
Roars, chants, cheers—early in the morning, the Kansas City Chiefs' training facility was already surrounded by deafening, blood-pumping energy from the fans.
Annie Gallas was practically vibrating with excitement, jumping up and down, while her sister Jenna Gallas wore the exact opposite expression—full of worry, her smile not reaching her eyes.
Jenna had tried to talk Annie down more than once, but it was useless. Helplessly, she turned to Karen and Felix beside her, silently asking for help.
"How do you do it? Stop worrying about Felix?"
Karen shook her head. "I can't. I'm still worried."
"But compared to watching him trapped in a hospital room, breathing under a glass dome like a doll… I'd rather see him ."
"Laughing, crying, jumping, running—just like every other teenager. Full of energy and passion. He's alive."
Jenna froze for a second, then glanced at Annie again.
The treatment had finally worked. Annie was free from the bed, standing tall.
Jenna realized she'd gotten greedy.
At first, all she'd wanted was for Annie to stand up, no longer confined to bed. To walk freely, like any other kid.
And now, Annie could. She could jump and bounce outside under her own strength—and still, Jenna couldn't help wanting more.
She wanted Annie to live, to recover completely, to be healthy again. To go to middle school, make friends, discover hobbies. To like someone. To dream of the future.
She couldn't help it. She really couldn't.
In front of her, Annie's face glowed with excitement, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, her cheeks flushed with healthy color.
Annie had said she wanted to come to the training base to cheer for the Kansas City Chiefs—and for Lance.
This past week, the Chiefs had been under heavy pressure, both on and off the field. From their game against the Baltimore Ravens onward, their journey had been nothing but turbulence. And now, with the playoffs looming, the tension was worse than ever.
And the coming week wouldn't be any easier—
The Chiefs were headed to Seattle, to face the Seahawks on their notorious home turf, CenturyLink Field, one of the loudest stadiums in the league.
Before the NFL's 2001 realignment, the Seahawks and Chiefs had both been in the AFC West, fierce rivals. Two decades later, most of that rivalry had faded—but this match had reignited the fire.
The reason: playoff spots.
Earlier this season, the Seahawks had been shaky—only 4–5, far from impressive.
But head coach Pete Carroll found a way.
Under Carroll, the Seahawks built the infamous "Legion of Boom," redefining defense in the NFL. Their influence reached so far it reshaped NCAA training priorities and even NFL draft strategies.
They changed the depth of the game itself.
In 2013 and 2014, the Seahawks reached back-to-back Super Bowls.
In Super Bowl XLVIII, they crushed the supposedly greatest offense in history—the Denver Broncos—to win the title.
In Super Bowl XLIX, they were one yard from beating the New England Patriots for back-to-back championships—until Carroll called for a pass instead of giving the ball to Marshawn Lynch. Russell Wilson's throw was intercepted, and the Patriots won 28–24.
After that, the Seahawks declined.
The "Legion of Boom" was history, and the team had shifted to relying on offense.
Still, Wilson proved himself as a passer and became the league's best dual-threat quarterback.
This season, despite their struggles, Carroll and Wilson had fought back. They swept the 49ers, edged past the Packers and Panthers, and crushed the Vikings in a five-game winning streak.
Now, at 9–5, they were back in the playoff hunt.
Against the Chiefs, the Seahawks couldn't afford to lose—they needed this win to control their postseason destiny.
And the Chiefs? They needed to beat the Seahawks to secure their own seeding, and—more importantly—to shut down all the recent criticism and controversy.
The stakes were high.
The Chiefs desperately needed fan support—so Annie and Felix showed up.
For 20 or 10 advance chapters: .com/michaeltranslates