9

Connor’s breath was labored as he sprinted headlong down the indoor track. His heart pounded in his chest, and his muscles burned. Jason was neck and neck with him. Elsa from Bravo team was close on their tail, as was Sean from Delta. The other recruits followed behind, some already struggling with the intense circuit.

“Come on, AMIR! Don’t be the first to quit; a bodyguard needs to be fit!” bellowed Steve as he ran alongside them with apparent ease.

A towering slab of honed muscle, his limbs seemingly hewn from black marble, the ex–British Special Forces soldier was their unarmed-combat instructor and fitness coach. He’d summoned the three Guardian teams—Alpha, Bravo and Delta—to the gym for one of his infamous training sessions. To ensure their full commitment, he’d pitted them against one another, and with group pride at stake, no team wanted to be last.

“No pain, no gain!” called out Steve.

Connor reached the end of the shuttle sprint and dropped to the floor for fifty knuckle push-ups. Beside him, Jason pumped away like a jackhammer, clicking off reps every second. More students joined them, racing to catch up. Connor felt the burn in his triceps. But compared with the mental overload of an operational briefing, the physical exercise was a relief.

Amir dropped down next to him, the last of Alpha team. “I think . . . I might . . . die,” he gasped in between push-ups.

“That’s the spirit,” said Steve, grinning a bright white smile at his student’s torment. “It means you’re putting in one hundred percent effort.” He stood sentry over the teams, ensuring no one skipped a rep. “An unfit bodyguard is a liability. Not only to himself but also to other members of the team, and most of all to the Principal.”

Jason was first to finish his push-ups and went straight into the next exercise—fifty stomach crunches.

“In an emergency, you’ll need such strength to get you and your Principal out of the danger zone,” continued their instructor as his students sweated and groaned on the floor. “Fatigue, on the other hand, will hamper your ability to make quick decisions and choose the right course of action.”

“But we did a . . . ten-mile run . . . only yesterday!” panted Luciana, a dark-haired Brazilian girl from Delta team.

“Your fitness isn’t about yesterday; it’s about today,” Steve lectured. “You must treat your fitness like a growing tree—water it every day; otherwise the tree will wilt. Just like you, Liam!”

He strode over to a boy on Bravo team who’d given up halfway through his push-ups.

“Would you trust your security to an unfit couch potato?”

Too out of breath to reply, Liam shook his head.

“Nor would I. Now let’s see what you’re made of. Keep going!”

His arms trembling with the effort, the boy resumed his exercise. Meanwhile, his teammate Elsa had completed her stomach crunches and was running to beat Jason to the chin-up bars. Connor was only a few paces behind. Charley, who’d used a vertical chest press and played catch with a medicine ball in place of push-ups and stomach crunches, powered her adapted sportschair over to a lowered chin-up bar. She fired off twenty reps before anyone else had even managed ten. Then, dropping back into her chair, she sped off along the track for another shuttle run—now the leader in the race.

As soon as she reached the end of the track, Steve announced, “Piggyback sprint.”

This was met with groans of disbelief from the weary teams. But everyone dug in for what they prayed would be the final exercise. In Alpha team, Connor partnered with Amir, Jason ran with Richie, and Charley pulled herself up onto Ling’s shoulders.

The teams raced down the hall. Ling managed to hold Alpha’s lead; then Jason extended it. But Richie staggered under the weight of his brawny teammate.

“This is murder!” Richie moaned, gritting his teeth as Delta team swiftly passed him by.

“Winners train, losers complain,” Steve growled. “When things go wrong and you need to run for cover while carrying your Principal, you’ll be thankful for this exercise.”

“I’ll be thankful when it stops!” he gasped.

By the time it was Connor and Amir’s turn, Alpha team had fallen into last place. Amir did his best to catch up, but had nothing left to give. It was a miracle he even managed to carry Connor over the line. Now they were almost ten seconds behind the leaders.

“It’s all down to you,” said Marc as a burned-out Amir clambered onto Connor’s back.

Naturally fit from six years of martial arts training, Connor summoned up hidden reserves of energy and raced after the two rival teams. They quickly passed Bravo team as Elsa stumbled and went sprawling with her partner. But Delta still had the lead. And with only thirty meters left in the race, Connor had to dig deep.

“Go! Go! Go!” cried Amir, cheering him on as if he were a racehorse.

Connor could see that Luciana from Delta team, with Sean on her back, was fading fast. He pumped his legs and charged after them.

“Come on!” Amir urged.

They began to draw level. With victory almost in sight, Connor raced for the finish line.

Suddenly aware she was about to be passed, Luciana leaned forward like a jockey in the final few paces . . . and beat Alpha team by a nose.

Delta team cheered and high-fived Luciana in celebration of their slimmest of victories. Frustrated by their loss, Connor collapsed to his hands and knees in an exhausted heap, Amir rolling off him onto the floor.

“Good job, everyone,” said Steve. “Take a break. I’ll be back in ten minutes for combat practice.”

As Steve passed Connor, he clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder. “You may have lost out this time, but that’s what I call fighting fit.”

Connor managed a weak smile. “Well, I’m fit for nothing now!”