Gary's ultimatum hadn't settled over the squad like a death sentence; it landed like a declaration of war. The January crisis was over, the transfer window was firmly shut, and our resilient, cobbled-together family was still intact, at least for now.
The stark knowledge that this was our last dance, our final, glorious campaign together, forged a new and potent intensity in the heart of the team. Every training session, every tactical drill, every shared moment was now imbued with a precious, fleeting significance that sharpened our focus.
We were a team on borrowed time, a supernova burning at its brightest right before the end, and we were all fiercely determined to make every single second count.
The quiet, gnawing sadness that had threatened to consume me after my meeting with the academy director had been replaced by a cold, hard resolve. I had won them a stay of execution, a few more months in our shared paradise.
