006

The morning air outside the facility was crisp, carrying the faint tang of frost that clung to the edges of the city. Mila Torres parked with care, her mind still buzzing from yesterday’s team meeting—the subtle sparks, the teasing tensions, and the protective shadow of Ryder that had lingered behind her. She knew today would be a test of a different kind.

Walking into the building, the familiar sound of activity welcomed her, but the energy was sharper than usual. Players moved quickly through drills, focused yet restless, the competitive atmosphere magnified by the recent team dynamics. Ryder was already at the far end, overseeing a stretch sequence. Mila could feel the heat of his gaze even before she reached him, a reminder that his attention would follow her throughout the day.

Kai approached, his expression warm but serious. “Morning, Torres,” he said, offering a quick nod. “Heads up—Carson is here early, and he wants to observe the first part of your session personally.”

Mila’s stomach tightened slightly. She had anticipated challenges from Carson before, but today, it seemed, he intended to make the stakes public. She inhaled deeply, adjusting her clipboard, straightening her posture. “Understood,” she replied. “I’ll be ready.”

Carson was already at the medical bay, leaning against a counter, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping over the players and then fixing on Mila. His presence was commanding attention without a word.

“Good morning, Torres,” he said. “I hope you are prepared to demonstrate not just skill, but composure. This team will watch closely today.”

Mila nodded, suppressing the flicker of nerves. “Of course, Dr. Carson,” she said, setting her clipboard down and moving to the center of the room.

As she began the warm-up sequence, Carson observed silently, his eyes narrowing at each movement. Mila adjusted, guided, and corrected the players, her voice clear and authoritative. Ryder shadowed her throughout, occasionally stepping in to demonstrate a motion or adjust a player’s stance. His protective energy was wrapped around her subtly, keeping potential disruptions at bay.

Jace, as usual, hovered near the edge, smirking but attentive. Luka leaned against the far wall, quiet, his gaze calculating and focused entirely on Mila. Kai monitored the group, his calm presence a stabilizing force amid the brewing tension.

Carson’s patience wore thin quickly. During a particularly complex recovery drill, he stepped forward, cutting through Mila’s instructions. “Torres, your wrist alignment is off on that rotation. You are overcompensating, and the players are following your lead incorrectly,” he said sharply, his eyes locking onto hers.

Mila froze for the fraction of a second, then squared her shoulders, refusing to let the intimidation settle in. “Thank you for the observation, Dr. Carson,” she replied. “I’ll adjust immediately. Players, mirror my next demonstration carefully, paying attention to the shifts in your form.”

Her composure surprised Carson. He tilted his head, studying her for a long moment. The players followed her corrections with. Ryder’s protective glare never wavered, while Luka’s quiet observation intensified. Even Jace seemed momentarily subdued by the clear authority Mila projected.

Carson stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Mila could hear. “I see confidence, Torres. But confidence alone isn’t enough. Can you handle real pressure?”

Mila met his gaze without hesitation. “I can,” she said firmly. “Pressure is part of the environment. I adapt, adjust, and guide—without faltering.”

A small smile touched Carson’s lips. “Good. Let’s see if you can maintain that composure when the team’s attention—and scrutiny is fully on you.”

He called a drill that required multiple players to execute simultaneous stretches and movements. The complexity was high, leaving little room for error. Mila moved fluidly among them, adjusting, demonstrating, and explaining each step. Carson circled, scrutinizing, occasionally offering sharp critiques that were designed to challenge, provoke, and test her authority.

At one point, Ryder stepped in to guide a player whose balance faltered, his hand brushing against Mila’s as he passed. The contact was brief, but it ignited a heat that ran down her spine. She reminded herself to stay composed, to let her skill and knowledge speak louder than any emotional or physical reaction.

“Torres,” Carson called out, voice rising slightly so the players could hear. “Explain why you chose that sequence for multi-joint recovery. Don’t summarize—justify it.”

Mila straightened. “This sequence prioritizes core stability while ensuring the kinetic chain is engaged properly. Overcompensation is minimized, and muscle groups are encouraged to activate naturally. Each movement prepares the body for performance while reducing injury risk. I have observed the players alignment and responsiveness, and I have adapted the sequence accordingly. The reasoning is both anatomical and performance-based.”

A hush fell over the room. Carson regarded her silently, then nodded, impressed. Ryder’s jaw relaxed, his protective tension easing into an acknowledgment of pride. Luka’s gaze lingered longer than usual, analytical but clearly approving, while Kai’s expression softened, admiration in his quiet way. Even Jace’s smirk faltered, replaced by the first hint of respect.

Carson stepped back, crossing his arms. “Well done, Torres. Confidence backed by knowledge—and action—makes for credibility. I’ll be watching, of course, but you impressed me today.”

Mila allowed herself a brief exhale of relief, maintaining her composure for the players sake. She felt Ryder’s protective energy at her side. She met Luka’s eyes across the room.

The next part of the session required individual correction, with Mila moving among players, demonstrating and explaining adjustments. Carson remained present, offering the occasional critique but largely stepping back, letting her lead. Ryder occasionally positioned himself near her, while Jace’s teasing comments continued, though tempered by the evident respect she had earned.

During a particularly intricate demonstration, Mila corrected a player’s posture, hands lightly guiding their motion. Carson’s gaze sharpened, and she felt the familiar weight of scrutiny.

By mid-session, the team had absorbed corrections, learned adjustments, and navigated interpersonal dynamics under Mila’s guidance. Carson finally spoke. “Torres, you have demonstrated competence under pressure, authority in instruction, and the ability to maintain focus amid distractions. These are rare qualities.”

The players exchanged glances, nodding, some murmuring low acknowledgments of her skill. Ryder’s eyes met hers briefly.

Mila allowed herself a small smile, keeping her voice firm and professional. “Thank you, Dr. Carson. I’ll continue monitoring progress and adapting strategies to ensure performance and safety remain optimal.”

The session ended with players stretching and discussing adjustments among themselves. Mila moved to collect her notes, Ryder walking beside her.

“You held your ground,” Ryder said quietly as they walked toward the exit. “Not everyone could do that with him watching, let alone while managing the team.”

“I had to,” Mila replied, her chest still tingling from residual tension. “I wasn’t going to let intimidation undermine the team’s progress—or my own.”

Ryder’s gaze softened. “You handled it…impressively. I have got your back, Torres. Always.”

Outside, Frost City hummed with life. Mila inhaled deeply, savoring the clarity, the triumph, and the thrill of recognition—both professional and personal.

A note on her windshield caught her eye, tucked neatly beneath the wiper;

“You earned it. Stand tall.”

Mila’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. Today had tested her skill, her composure, and her confidence… and she had stood her ground. Ryder’s protection, Luka’s quiet attention, Kai’s calm support, and even the grudging respect of Jace had reinforced that she was making her mark.

Sliding into her car, she let herself exhale fully, ready for whatever challenges awaited next. In the Titans world, competence demanded strength, awareness, and courage—and Mila Torres had all three.

She felt it hit her all at once—what this place was, what it demanded, and where she stood in the middle of it.

And for the first time, she knew she could handle every bit of it.