“You were.”

“At first.”

Emily looked down.

Marcus continued.

“Then I stopped protecting her and started punishing the men who hurt her.”

He paused.

“I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.”

Emily remained silent.

“That’s what scares me.”

“Ryan isn’t those men.”

“No.”

“He deserves to be taught a lesson.”

Marcus shook his head.

“That’s exactly the kind of sentence that got me into trouble.”

Emily looked away.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

Marcus thought for a moment.

“Tell the truth.”

She laughed bitterly.

“Nobody cares about the truth.”

He looked at her.

“Then we make them care.”

That was the first time Marcus considered going back to Ironclad.

Not to fight.

To speak.

But before he could decide, another person entered the story.

Someone Marcus had spent three years trying to forget.

Jason Cole.

The man who had nearly died on Easton Street.

Chapter 7: The Visitor

Jason arrived at Marcus’s house on Wednesday afternoon.

Marcus was outside washing his truck when a silver sedan stopped at the curb.

A man stepped out.

He walked with a slight limp.

His hair was shorter than Marcus remembered.

But the face was unmistakable.

Marcus dropped the hose.

“Jason?”

Jason nodded.

“Hey.”

For several seconds, neither moved.

Marcus felt his heart pounding.

He had imagined this meeting hundreds of times.

He had rehearsed apologies.

Explanations.

Questions.

But now that Jason stood in front of him, Marcus could barely speak.

“How did you find me?”

“Your address wasn’t hard to find.”

Marcus looked toward the house.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Jason shook his head.

“Not yet.”

Marcus nodded.

“Okay.”

Jason looked at the truck.

Then at the house.

“You doing all right?”

Marcus almost laughed.

“I’m trying.”

Jason nodded.

“I saw the video.”

Marcus closed his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Guy’s a real piece of work.”

Marcus said nothing.

Jason continued.

“I recognized him.”

“Ryan?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus looked up.

“You remember him?”

“More than I used to.”

Jason leaned against the car.

“My memory came back in pieces. Took a long time.”

Marcus waited.

Jason continued.

“I remember the club. I remember Ryan. I remember the woman.”

He paused.

“And I remember you.”

Marcus swallowed.

“Jason, I’m sorry.”

Jason looked at him.

“I know.”

“No. I need you to hear me.”

“I’ve heard it.”

Marcus stared.

Jason reached into his jacket and removed an envelope.

“Your letters.”

Marcus froze.

For three years, he had written letters of apology to Jason.