I let that sit.
“Gear up. We leave in ten.”
I walked out. Hendricks followed, half a step behind.
The park was two blocks from the arena, a wide green space with a steep hill that would make their legs burn and lungs scream. Perfect.
The team filed out in full gear—pads, gloves, helmets, everything except skates. They looked ridiculous and uncomfortable, which was exactly the point. I wanted them out of their element. Wanted them to understand that conditioning wasn't optional and talent meant nothing if you couldn't execute when exhausted.
Hendricks stood near the street with his arms crossed, watching.
“Line up at the bottom,” I said, pointing to the base of the hill. “Sprint to the top. Walk back down. We do this until I'm satisfied.”
“How many reps?” Finn asked.
“As many as it takes.”
“Takes for what?”
“For you to stop asking questions and start working.”
That shut him up.
I blew the whistle.
The first sprint was garbage. Half of them paced themselves like this was cardio day at the gym. I let them finish, then lined them up again.
“That was pathetic. You jogged. I said sprint. If you're not giving me everything, you're wasting my time and yours. Again.”
The second sprint was better. Callahan pushed too hard and nearly collapsed at the top. Hallowell tried to look effortless andended up middle of the pack. Rook ground it out with grim determination despite the hip.
Hartley finished first.
Not because he was showing off. Because he ran like something was chasing him. Fast, desperate, all-out effort that left him bent over at the top, hands on his knees, chest heaving.
I noticed the way sweat soaked through his gear already. The way his hair stuck to his forehead. The sharp angles of his shoulder blades visible through the wet fabric.
I noticed, then shoved the observation away.Irrelevant.
“Again,” I said.
We ran ten sprints. By the fifth, Callahan looked like he might puke. By the eighth, even Volkov was breathing hard. By the tenth, the whole team was dead on their feet.
But no one quit.
“That's it,” I said finally. “Walk it off, hydrate, then we're hitting the ice.”
They limped back toward the arena like survivors. Finn made dramatic death noises. Mercer told him to shut up but looked half-dead himself.
Hendricks approached as the team filed past.
“Interesting approach,” he said.
“They need to understand this level requires more than skill. It requires mental toughness. The ability to execute when everything hurts.”
“And you think that's going to translate to wins?”
“I think it's going to give us a foundation. The rest comes with time.”
