Behind him, championship posters covered the wall.

David Collins asked:

“Why did you challenge Marcus Bennett?”

Ryan shrugged.

“He came into my cage acting aggressive.”

“Was he threatening you?”

“Absolutely.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me I didn’t want to fight him.”

David nodded.

“Did he touch you?”

“No.”

“Did he strike you?”

“No.”

“Did he attempt to?”

Ryan hesitated.

“He was acting like he might.”

David looked down at his notes.

“Is it true that the woman involved had asked you to stop the demonstration?”

Ryan laughed.

“She was training.”

“Was she injured?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you check?”

Ryan’s smile faded.

“Look, this is a fight gym. People get hurt.”

David waited.

Ryan leaned forward.

“If her brother has a problem with me, I’ll settle it in the cage.”

“Meaning?”

“A real fight.”

David looked up.

“You’re challenging him?”

Ryan grinned.

“Three rounds. Charity event. Winner takes the money for his favorite cause.”

“How much?”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

David raised his eyebrows.

Ryan continued.

“And I’ll put up another twenty-five if he can last all three rounds.”

The challenge spread immediately.

By Tuesday morning, Marcus’s phone was ringing constantly.

Reporters.

Old acquaintances.

Former military friends.

People he hadn’t spoken to in years.

Some encouraged him.

Others warned him.

A few wanted to promote the fight.

Marcus ignored almost everyone.

Then Victor Harlan called.

“Marcus?”

“Yes.”

“I owe you an apology.”

Marcus said nothing.

Victor continued.

“I should’ve stopped Ryan.”

“Yes,” Marcus answered.

“I know.”

Another silence.

“I’d like to make it right.”

“How?”

“Come down to the gym. We’ll talk.”

Marcus looked toward Emily, who was sitting at the kitchen table.

“No.”

“Please.”

Marcus considered hanging up.

Then Victor said:

“Ryan’s challenging you publicly. I can’t stop the attention now.”

“You can stop giving him a platform.”

Victor sighed.

“It’s complicated.”

Marcus’s voice hardened.

“No. It isn’t.”

He ended the call.

That evening, Emily came into the garage where Marcus was repairing an old bicycle.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you just fight him?”

Marcus kept working.

“Because I don’t want to.”

“You could beat him.”

He looked up.

“Maybe.”

“You know you could.”

Marcus set down the wrench.

“Emily, listen to me.”

She sat on a stool.

“Winning a fight isn’t always winning.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

He leaned against the workbench.

“Three years ago, I thought I was protecting someone.”