I stared directly at Mikhail Volkov while I processed his aggressive threat, and I absolutely refused to let him see any hesitation or fear in my posture. I tightened my heavy grip on the carbon fiber shaft of my hockey stick, and I bent my knees deeply to lower my center of gravity so I could generate maximum explosive power the second the drill actually began.
The freezing air inside the massive arena chilled my exposed cheeks, yet the thick athletic gear covering my torso already felt suffocatingly warm due to the extreme stress hormones flooding my bloodstream.
Coach Thomas Baker raised the silver metal whistle to his lips, and he blew a sharp, piercing note that echoed incredibly loudly across the empty stadium seating.
I immediately dug the sharp metal edges of my custom skates into the hard, freshly resurfaced ice, and I propelled myself forward with a massive burst of physical energy.
I accelerated rapidly toward the corner boards where the small pile of black rubber pucks rested, and I knew Mikhail was charging right behind me because I could clearly hear the heavy, rhythmic scraping of his skate blades tearing violently into the frozen surface.
I reached the corner first since my significantly leaner frame allowed me to reach my top speed much faster than his massive body could accelerate from a complete standstill.
I swept my stick across the ice and smoothly collected a puck onto the curved blade, and I immediately executed a sharp crossover turn to change my direction before he could physically trap me against the yellow baseboard.
I did not bother looking over my shoulder because I could literally feel the dominant Alpha aura radiating from his approaching figure, and the intense psychological pressure pushed heavily against my senses. I skated swiftly along the curved transparent glass to avoid his initial attempt to pin my shoulders, and I kept my head raised so I could constantly scan the open ice for a safe escape route.
Mikhail extended his incredibly long reach and slammed his heavy stick directly against mine, attempting to violently knock the puck away from my active control. I completely anticipated the aggressive physical contact, so I shifted my entire body weight to my left leg and shielded the puck securely with my right skate while I maintained my forward momentum. We skated parallel to each other along the side boards, and the physical exertion required to hold him off immediately forced me to breathe heavily through my mouth.
"You are going to have to skate much faster than that if you actually want to catch me, Captain," I shouted over the loud scraping of our skates, deliberately taunting him to keep his focus entirely on my speed rather than the artificial chemical scent I projected.
"I do not need to skate faster than you because I simply need to cut off your escape angles, rookie," Mikhail fired back instantly, and his deep voice sounded dangerously close to my right ear as he matched my pace perfectly. "You rely entirely on your agility to avoid physical confrontations, but you cannot simply outrun a heavy board battle forever."
"I only need to keep possession of this puck for another thirty seconds, and then the coach will blow his whistle to end the drill," I replied breathlessly, shifting the black puck quickly between my forehand and my backhand to keep him guessing my next directional move.
The intense physical exertion immediately caused my heart rate to spike into a highly dangerous zone, and the sudden rush of pure adrenaline began to rapidly burn through the heavy chemical suppressants I consumed earlier this morning.
A wave of unnatural heat flooded my chest and spread quickly down my arms, and I dragged the freezing arena air into my burning lungs in a desperate attempt to regulate my rising temperature. The cold air normally cooled my skin down during a strenuous workout, yet today it barely provided any relief against the severe fever building inside my natural system.
My thigh muscles ached severely under the heavy protective pads because I had to constantly push back against Mikhail's superior physical weight, and heavy sweat dripped down my forehead to sting my eyes behind the clear plastic visor of my helmet.
I realized my body was severely struggling to maintain the Alpha disguise under the immense physical stress, and the thick medical patch on my neck felt increasingly warm against my sensitive skin.
The heavy sweat collecting under my high collar threatened to loosen the secure adhesive tape, and a sudden wave of genuine panic gripped my chest. If the patch peeled off during this specific drill, the entire active roster would instantly smell my true nature, and my professional career would end right here on the practice rink.
I forcefully shoved that terrifying thought out of my mind, and I focused my attention entirely on the physical mechanics of the hockey drill. I pushed the puck forward and attempted a sudden, aggressive stop to disrupt his defensive timing, hoping he would simply skate past me due to his incredibly heavy forward momentum.
I turned my skates sideways and sprayed a thick shower of shaved white ice directly into the air, but Mikhail reacted with absolutely flawless defensive instincts. He stopped simultaneously with a loud crunch of his blades, and he immediately used his massive shoulder to crowd my physical space so I could not easily turn around and skate in the opposite direction.
Coach Baker stood near the center circle with his digital stopwatch raised in his hand, and he yelled loudly for us to increase the physical intensity of the battle. Dylan Turner banged the shaft of his stick aggressively against the side boards from the back of the group, clearly encouraging Mikhail to crush me against the glass and humiliate me in front of the veteran players.
"You are rapidly running out of open ice, Moretti, and your legs are already getting tired," Mikhail observed while he aggressively checked my stick again, and the hard carbon fiber shafts clattered loudly together. "You talk constantly about your elite offensive statistics, yet you cannot even break away from a standard defensive pin."
"I am simply pacing myself so I do not waste all my energy during the first five minutes of a practice session," I argued defensively, digging my edges into the ice to push back against the heavy pressure of his hip pressing into my side. "You possess a terrible turning radius because you are too heavy, so I am just waiting for you to overcommit your balance."
"I never overcommit my balance, and I am going to completely shut down your offensive line right now," Mikhail stated with absolute confidence.
He leaned heavily against me, and the sheer disparity in our physical strength became undeniably apparent. I braced my core muscles and fought desperately to maintain my position, but he slowly and systematically forced me backward into the deep corner of the rink.
The physical effort required to simply stay on my feet drained the last remaining reserves of my medicated stamina, and a sharp cramp seized the muscles in my lower abdomen. My vision became slightly spotty around the edges because I could not pull enough oxygen into my lungs, and the sweet, natural scent of my own biology faintly threatened to push past the failing chemical blockers.
I noticed a very small gap between Mikhail's wide defensive stance and the yellow baseboard, so I aggressively kicked my skates and launched myself toward the narrow opening in a final, desperate attempt to escape the corner.
I intended to slip past him and carry the puck toward the open center circle where I would have plenty of space to maneuver away from his massive reach. I dropped my left shoulder and leaned heavily into the sharp turn, trusting the metal edges of my blades to hold my weight while I accelerated rapidly.
However, Mikhail completely anticipated my desperate escape strategy before I even executed the physical movement. He did not attempt to steal the puck with his stick this time, because he decided to utilize his massive physical size to completely terminate my forward progress. He pivoted his hips smoothly to adjust his angle, and he forcefully stepped directly into my chosen path just as I reached my maximum speed.
I tried to brace my shoulders and absorb the impending contact, but the physical collision was absolutely devastating. Mikhail drove his heavily padded shoulder directly into my chest protector with a massive amount of forward force, and he completely stopped my momentum in a single, brutal instant.
The heavy impact lifted my skates entirely off the ice for a fraction of a second, and the violent collision forced the air completely out of my lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. I flew backward and crashed incredibly hard against the thick transparent plexiglass boards surrounding the rink. The heavy glass rattled loudly under my weight, and the back of my protective helmet knocked sharply against the hard surface. My hockey stick slipped out of my trembling hands and clattered onto the frozen floor, and the black rubber puck slid harmlessly away toward the blue line.
I slumped forward slightly as my vision blurred heavily from the physical shock, and I desperately gasped for oxygen to refill my completely empty lungs. Before I could even attempt to recover my balance or reach down to retrieve my dropped equipment, Mikhail surged forward and slammed his heavy body directly against mine to securely pin me against the freezing glass.
He pressed his thick forearm horizontally across my chest protector, and he used his superior body weight to ensure I could not move a single inch in any direction. I was completely trapped between the unyielding boards and his massive frame, and the extreme physical proximity caused my internal instincts to completely panic. The heavy, dominant scent of pine and dark musk rolling off his skin enveloped me entirely, and my legs trembled violently as my body fought the overwhelming biological urge to submit to his Alpha presence.
The shrill sound of Coach Baker's whistle finally echoed through the arena to signal the official end of the forty-five-second drill, but Mikhail did not step back or release his heavy physical hold on my body.
He lowered his head until the front edge of his helmet almost touched the visor of mine, and he stared directly into my wide eyes while I struggled to pull air into my chest. I could feel the intense heat radiating from his skin, and my own feverish temperature spiked dangerously high in response to his physical dominance.
"Your heart is currently beating so incredibly fast that I can actually feel it pounding all the way through your heavy chest protector, Avery," Mikhail whispered softly, and his tone was completely devoid of its previous aggressive anger. "Why is your body reacting to a standard physical check like a terrified prey animal instead of an angry Alpha?"