Page 11 of Offside Angle

For the next forty minutes, Damian runs us through a brutal circuit. Partner carries, synchronized squats, plank holds while the other person does Russian twists, and a whole lot of running. He doesn’t go as hard on Lena as he does on the rest of us, but he definitely doesn’t let her off easy either.

Every time she slows down or glares at him, he just walks by and pats the top of her head like she’s a mildly annoying but amusing puppy.

“You chose to come here,” he says the third time she shoots daggers at him. “I’m sure you were warned, little Vance.”

Lena’s glare somehow gets even sharper. She looks one second away from throwing the medicine ball at his head.

I’m trying very hard not to laugh as I hold her feet during her sit-ups. “You good?” I ask quietly, grinning down at her.

“I hate him,” she mutters between reps, sweat already forming on her forehead. “I hate him so much.”

“I warned you,” I remind her.

She reaches up and flicks my forehead when I help her sit up. “Shut up and spot me properly, Rivera.”

From across the gym, I can hear Cole wheezing with laughter while Viktor silently suffers through whatever hellish exercise they’ve been assigned. Elias is yelling encouragement at Jace like they’re in the middle of a championship game.

Just when Lena thinks the worst is over, Damian blows his whistle.

“Alright,” he says, voice calm and dangerous. “Everyone on the floor. Partner plank holds with push-up exchanges. Thirty seconds on, fifteen off. Ten rounds.”

The collective groan that goes through the gym is loud enough to shake the walls.

Lena immediately perks up, clearly thinking she’s safe.

“Little Vance,” Damian calls without even looking at her. “With me.”

Lena actually whines as she stomps across the gym toward him, every bit the toddler being sent to timeout.

Cole doubles over laughing. Tyler and Nico are snickering openly. Even Roman cracks a small smirk. The second Lena whips around and glares at them, though, they all become intensely fascinated with their planks, suddenly working as if their survival depends on perfect form.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard it hurts, as I drop into position with Jace.

Damian doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. He hands Lena a lighter set of dumbbells and points at the floor. “So…” he says, voice low and dry, “you thought today was going to be fun, hm?”

Lena glares up at him while she starts doing the exercise he gave her. “You’re mean,” she huffs, already out of breath. “You’re lucky you cook well.”

Damian lets out a quiet, amused hum. “Mm. Keep going. Elbows in.”

She keeps complaining the entire time —muttered insults, the occasional “this is abuse” — and Damian just stands there supervising her with that evil little smirk on his face, correcting her form or adding another small set “just to be sure.”

I’m on my sixth round of planks with Jace and trying very, very hard not to abandon my partner and go rescue her. Every time she shoots me a pleading look across the gym, I have to force myself to stay put.

Because I know Damian.

He’s not actually making her do anything too hard. He’s just having fun torturing the one person in the room who isn’t used to his particular brand of evil. And the more she complains, the more entertained he gets.

Still… it’s taking everything in me not to walk over there.

Jace glances at me between rounds, sweat dripping down his face. “You good, man?” he asks quietly.

I exhale and drop back into another plank. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Just trying not to get benched for insubordination.”

Jace snorts.

From across the gym, I hear Lena grumble something that sounds suspiciously like “I hope your cane breaks” under her breath.

Damian just pats her head again. “Five more. Good girl.”