The tempo had bled out of the session. What was left now was sweat, silence, and the long golden drag of a Monaco sunset pressing across the pitch like a spotlight dimming.
Plastic water bottles hissed open in tired hands. Boots dragged lazily over the turf. Laughter came in brief flashes—nothing loud, nothing forced. The kind of sound that came after a hard session, when muscle ache dulled ego and words came easy.
Demien sat near the equipment crates at the far sideline, bench beneath him, elbows resting on his knees. One palm loosely held a folded clipboard—not his notes, just the standard staff chart. He hadn't looked at it once since the drill ended.
His eyes stayed on the field.
Not the whole of it. Just certain players. Certain movements. The small things that told more than the score ever could.
Zikos walking too stiff—hips tight, no recovery between reps.Plasil always stretched his right shoulder during cooldown—habit, or a pre-injury?Giuly rotated water bottles, never drank fully. Nervous hands.
And Evra—Evra didn't sit.
That part stood out more than anything. Everyone else had collapsed somewhere—bags, benches, stretching mats. Evra walked. Towel slung over one shoulder. Chest still rising and falling like his engine hadn't shut off. He paced from one end of the sideline to the other like he owned the boundary line. Or like he was patrolling it.
When he turned back and started walking toward Demien, the air thinned a little.
Not enough to panic. Just enough to feel it.
No one called out. No one followed.
Evra stopped a few feet away, just off the bench, not close enough to invade space, but not respecting distance either.
The towel came off his shoulder. He used it once—forehead, neck, then flicked it lazily around his fingers. Didn't sit.
Demien met his eyes without flinching.
For a second, there was nothing.
Then Evra's voice cut in—not sharp, not loud. Just… clear.
"That press trap," he said, glancing toward the half-field where cones still lay scattered. "New?"
Demien's fingers tightened slightly around the clipboard. His response came easy. Calm. Nothing more than it needed to be.
"Not quite. Just a tweak. Timing was off before."
Evra's mouth didn't move, but his eyes did—narrowed just a little. As if tasting the words for salt.
"Didn't see that last week," he said, folding the towel in his hand now. The movement was slow. Deliberate.
Demien held his posture.
A pause lingered. A silent standoff, not hostile—but full.
Evra stepped closer, not enough to challenge, just enough to close the air between them.
"You're not coaching like last week."
It wasn't a question.
Demien didn't answer. Not right away.
The silence hung like a wire between them. Tension stretched. Held.
Evra looked down at the turf for a moment, then back at him. His voice dropped—not softer exactly, but lower. Private.
"Whatever game you're playing…" A small tilt of the head. Not accusing. Just aware. "Don't drag us down with it."
He said it like someone who had seen too many locker rooms crack from the inside. Like someone who could smell doubt before it turned into rot.
Then, just as casually as he came, Evra turned and walked away.
No glare. No threat. No handshake either.
Just a message delivered and a question left hanging.
Demien let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Not sharp. Just... steady. Controlled.
His jaw ached.
Only then did he unclench it.
He looked down at the clipboard, still untouched in his lap, then turned his gaze back to the field.
The cones lay scattered like debris. The players had started drifting toward the changing rooms. Coaches gathered gear in practiced rhythm. Michel was already walking toward the tunnel, unreadable as ever.
But Demien stayed there on the bench a few moments longer.
So they were watching.
Every tweak. Every word. Every silence.
Evra had seen through the shape of things. Not the details—not yet—but enough to sense a shift in the air.
And the warning hadn't come from malice. No, it was sharper than that.
It came from leadership.
From a player who knew what a fracture looked like before it spread.