PREVIEW

... The training pitch shimmered under the Manchester sun—a rare gift.

Sweat dripped down Nathan’s neck as he finished his last set of passing drills. The air was sharp with the scent of fresh grass, cleats scraping turf, the pop of boots meeting the ball. The rhythm of it all felt like music.

But today, Nathan’s mind wasn’t on drills or conditioning.

His thoughts were in Europe.

"Group F," Amorim had said, holding up the slip of paper earlier that morning.

A ...

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