005

Mila Torres arrived early, as usual, her mind still replaying the events of last night—the eerie calm of the empty rink, Luka’s penetrating gaze, and the strange, magnetic tension that lingered long after he had left. She parked with care, and took a deep breath.

Inside, players milled about, some laughing, others focused on routines. Mila’s heels clicked lightly against the tile as she made her way toward the team meeting room, her clipboard tucked under one arm. She had reviewed strategies, recovery plans, and a few notes on communication with the athletes. Today was a team meeting, a chance to see the dynamics at play beyond the medical bay.

The team manager greeted her with a brief nod. “Everyone’s here in ten,” she said, eyes flicking toward the room where the Titans gathered. “This is more than a simple meeting. They want input on recovery, on morale, and…other matters.”

Mila nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She knew the Titans world wasn’t just about skill or health—it was a complex web of egos, rivalries, and unspoken hierarchies.

The meeting room buzzed with low conversation when she entered. Ryder Knox and Jace Hollis were already deep in debate near the far end, their voices just low enough to carry tension beneath words. Ryder’s protective energy radiated quietly, like an invisible wall around Mila even before she’d stepped forward. Jace, sharp and cocky, leaned against the table, smirking, clearly trying to draw attention.

Mila felt the heat of attention on her immediately. Eyes followed her. She smiled faintly, keeping her steps even, letting confidence settle naturally into her posture. She had faced scrutiny before, this was nothing new.

Ryder’s eyes met hers briefly, and nodded. Mila acknowledged it with a tiny tilt of her head.

The room quieted as the team manager stepped forward. “We’re here to discuss recovery protocols, team dynamics, and upcoming challenges,” she said, her voice clear, authoritative. “Dr. Torres will provide her insights and lead the discussion on health and injury prevention.”

Mila stepped to the front, setting her clipboard on the table. “Thank you,” she said. “I have reviewed player performance data, recovery trends, and common areas for potential injury. I want to start with a brief overview of our current strategies and then open the floor for discussion.” She glanced at Ryder briefly, catching his eye before moving forward. He returned her gaze, protective and watchful.

She began presenting the recovery protocols, keeping explanations simple but detailed. Muscles, stretches, warm-ups, and cooldowns—she covered each point with clarity. Ryder and Kai nodded occasionally, clearly engaged, while Jace’s smirk lingered, amusement mixing with barely-concealed challenge.

“I noticed during drills,” Mila continued, “that several players are overcompensating during stretches. Proper alignment reduces injury risk, especially during high-intensity sessions.” She demonstrated briefly, adjusting imaginary forms in the air. Ryder leaned slightly closer, his arm brushing hers in a fleeting, almost accidental touch. A jolt of awareness ran through her. She forced herself to keep her focus on the group.

Jace raised a hand, his tone teasing yet pointed. “So, Dr. Torres, are you saying some of us aren’t paying attention? Because I think I have perfect alignment.” His grin was cocky.

Ryder’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe it is about who is willing to listen instead of showing off,” he replied coolly.

Mila caught the tension immediately and smiled faintly, letting her voice remain calm. “It is not about blame,” she said. “It is about being aware and improving. We will all benefit when we recognize how small adjustments impact overall performance.” Her words were firm, and diffused the first edge of the rivalry without undermining either man.

Jace smirked, unconvinced, and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Fine. But if anyone needs hands-on demonstration, I volunteer…obviously.” His eyes flicked toward Mila, mischief in the glance.

Ryder’s hand moved slightly, positioning himself between Mila and Jace. “We are not volunteers for show,” he said. His gaze locked on Jace with a quiet intensity that made the other man falter slightly. Mila could feel the heat of his presence that had been constant since her first day. She allowed herself a small, private acknowledgment of gratitude.

Kai, ever the mediator, raised his voice gently. “Let’s keep this productive, yeah? Mila is here to guide us, not referee ego battles.”

Mila continued with the demonstrations, moving around the room to adjust form, provide guidance, and offer corrections.

She kept her tone smooth, guiding them with an ease that balanced the undercurrent of rivalry between Ryder and Jace. The tension persisted, though—glances, brief touches, protective instincts, and quiet teasing—all mingling in a dynamic that kept Mila acutely aware of the power play in the room.

During a break, she stepped aside to refill her water bottle. Ryder followed, standing just behind her, his gaze scanning the room for any hint of trouble. She sensed the silent warning in his posture… be cautious, but also trust yourself.

“You handled that well,” he said quietly, just above a murmur. “Jace likes to push boundaries. He is…competitive. Don't let him get to you.”

Mila glanced up, meeting his eyes. “I know,” she said softly. “I expected some friction. It is part of the environment.”

Ryder’s hand brushed briefly against hers as he gestured toward the room. “It’s not just friction,” he said lowly. “Some of them test loyalty, attention, focus…sometimes for reasons you won’t understand until later.”

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied calmly, though her chest still beat faster from the touch.

When the meeting resumed, Mila moved through more practical exercises. Jace’s teasing comments persisted, Ryder’s protective gestures continued, and Kai remained silent.

At one point, Ryder stepped in to redirect a player whose form had gone astray. His hand lingered briefly, guiding the motion, and Mila felt a flash of attraction that complicated her focus. She reminded herself to stay composed, professional, but couldn’t help the warmth that crept along her spine.

Jace, noticing the dynamic, smirked knowingly, tossing a sly comment over his shoulder. “Looks like someone’s got a favorite. I hope it is not just technique appreciation.”

Ryder’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly. “Focus on yourself, Hollis.”

By the end of the session, the team had absorbed corrections, shared laughs, and endured mild friction between Ryder and Jace. Mila’s notes were thorough, her observations sharp, and her presence respected. Ryder gave her a nod from across the room, while Jace smirked but remained wary, his playful challenge subdued by both Mila’s composure and Ryder’s.

As the team dispersed, Mila packed her clipboard and notes, her muscles pleasantly tired from moving around and guiding the players. Ryder walked with her toward the exit.

“You handled that well,” he said again, softer this time, almost a murmur, eyes tracking her movements. “Not everyone could navigate that…or survive the attention.”

Mila smiled faintly, a mix of pride and fatigue washing over her. “It’s part of the job,” she replied. “But…thank you for watching my back.”

Ryder’s hand brushed hers as they reached the door. “Always,” he murmured.