15: Doubt Lingers(2)

Carlos sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the cryptic message glowing on his phone screen:

Unknown Number: Congrats on the win. But watch your back—Herrera plays a dangerous game.

The words gnawed at him. He thought about ignoring the message, chalking it up to jealousy or mischief, but something about the tone felt... real. Chico nudged his foot, sensing his unease.

Who could've sent it? Herrera was a demanding man, but was he really dangerous? Carlos couldn't imagine why someone would target him with such a warning.

His mamá's voice called from the kitchen. "Carlos, dinner's ready!"

Carlos pocketed the phone and joined her, forcing a smile as they ate together. He couldn't let her know about the message or the doubts creeping into his mind.

The next morning, Carlos met Navarro for their usual training session. The sun was already scorching, but Navarro's focus was sharp as ever.

"Yesterday was impressive," Navarro said as Carlos worked through his drills. "You've grown a lot, both as a player and a leader."

"Thanks, Coach," Carlos replied, his voice subdued.

Navarro noticed his hesitation. "What's on your mind, kid?"

Carlos hesitated but decided to confide in the one person he trusted. He pulled out his phone and showed Navarro the message.

Navarro read it, his brow furrowing. "This isn't something to ignore, Carlos. Do you have any idea who might've sent it?"

Carlos shook his head. "No clue. But... do you think Herrera could be dangerous?"

Navarro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Herrera's a complicated figure. He's made a lot of enemies in the football world—some say he'll do anything to push his players to the top. I've heard stories of deals and rivalries that get... messy."

Carlos' stomach tightened. "What should I do?"

"Stay focused on your game," Navarro advised. "But be careful. Don't let anyone control your future—not even Herrera. If something feels off, trust your instincts."

Carlos nodded, grateful for the advice but still uneasy.

Later that day, Carlos arrived at the training grounds for his first official session with Atlético Gran Rey's junior academy. The atmosphere was intense, with players from all over the country vying for their spot in the elite ranks.

As Carlos laced up his boots, Diego sat beside him, his usual confidence dimmed by the competitive tension in the air.

"You ready for this?" Diego asked.

Carlos nodded, though his heart raced. "Yeah. Are you?"

Diego smirked. "Always."

Their coach, a tall man with a booming voice, gathered the players and wasted no time diving into the session. The drills were faster, more complex, and far more demanding than anything Carlos had experienced before.

Herrera watched from the sidelines, his sharp eyes tracking every player's movement. Carlos pushed himself harder, determined to stand out.

During a scrimmage, Carlos intercepted a pass and darted past two defenders. Spotting Diego making a run, he threaded a perfect through ball. Diego finished with a powerful strike, earning nods of approval from the coach and a rare smile from Herrera.

But as the session wore on, Carlos noticed something strange. Herrera wasn't just observing—he seemed to be speaking quietly with certain players, gesturing toward others. It felt calculated, almost manipulative.

After training, Carlos approached Diego. "Did you notice Herrera talking to some of the guys during the session?"

Diego shrugged. "Yeah, but that's just Herrera. He's always scheming something. Don't let it get to you."

Carlos nodded, but the feeling of unease lingered.

As they left the training grounds, a boy from the opposing team during Carlos' trial approached him. He had sharp features and an intense gaze.

"You're Carlos, right?" the boy asked.

"Yeah," Carlos replied cautiously. "Why?"

The boy glanced around before speaking in a low voice. "Watch yourself around Herrera. He doesn't care about you—only what you can do for him. If you're not careful, he'll use you and toss you aside, just like he's done to others."

Before Carlos could respond, the boy walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

That night, Carlos lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The warnings were piling up, but he didn't know who to trust. His dream of becoming a professional footballer was finally within reach, but at what cost?

He reached for his phone and opened the mysterious message again, his mind swirling with questions.

Who was behind it? What did they know about Herrera that Carlos didn't?

As sleep finally overtook him, one thought remained clear: he couldn't let his guard down. Not now. Not ever.