The training room smells like sweat and rubber mats. Rows of initiates stretch and jog in place, their nervous energy crackling through the air. It's the last day of the first week — and none of them know what's coming.

You stand near the edge of the training floor, arms crossed, watching them. Some are already eyeing each other. Sizing up who they might be paired against.

Eric's voice cuts through the room like a blade. The initiates stop mid-stretch. Even the ones who were whispering go quiet.

He paces slowly down the line, boots echoing.

A few of the initiates glance at you and Four, as if hoping one of you will soften the blow. You know better. Today isn't about comfort.

Four stands a few feet away, arms at his sides, watching the group with an unreadable expression. His eyes flick to you for just a second — a silent check-in, the kind that's become second nature between you two over the years.

The initiates scramble back into motion, jumping jacks and lunges, their movements sharper now. In the back, Peter Hayes smirks at something Christina says, and Uriah bounces on the balls of his feet, clearly trying to burn off extra energy. Tris keeps her head down, focused, her jaw set. Will is next to her, stretching his shoulders.

The clock on the far wall ticks closer to the start of the run.