"What?"

Preston pointed.

"Everyone saw you."

Bennett stepped between them.

"Enough."

But one of the men in the lobby was already recording.

Richard saw it.

His eyes narrowed.

He whispered something to the suited man.

The man nodded.

Thomas noticed.

He looked at Bennett.

"Who are they?"

She turned.

The two men were gone.

Thomas walked toward the door.

Outside, their SUV disappeared into traffic.

Bennett joined him.

"You know them."

"No."

"But you recognize what they are."

Thomas watched the road.

"Yes."

"Who?"

Thomas's answer was quiet.

"People who don't want me talking."

Bennett crossed her arms.

"About Mercer?"

Thomas nodded.

"About Mercer."

That afternoon, the video of the fight appeared online.

The headline was brutal:

APEX JANITOR ATTACKS WEALTHY FIGHTER AT POLICE STATION

The video showed Thomas moving.

It did not show Preston's first punch.

It did not show Richard's threats.

It did not show the men in the lobby.

Millions watched.

Some mocked Thomas.

Some called him a coward.

Others called him a trained killer.

Then an anonymous account posted one sentence:

Ask why Thomas Decker disappeared from federal records in 2020.

The internet exploded.

Dmitri called him.

"Tom."

Thomas answered.

"Yes?"

"You need to come back."

"Why?"

"Because the gym is surrounded by reporters."

Thomas closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It is."

"No."

Dmitri paused.

"Tom, I found something."

"What?"

"Old membership files."

Thomas waited.

"There was a man who used to visit Apex."

"Who?"

"Daniel Mercer."

Thomas froze.

Dmitri continued.

"He came here six years ago."

"How often?"

"Three times."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know who he was."

Thomas whispered:

"What did he do?"

"He left something."

"What?"

"A key."

Thomas looked at the phone.

"Where?"

"Locker 17."

Thomas stared.

Locker 17.

The number hit him like a memory.

Mercer had used it during the final week before the operation.

Thomas had forgotten.

Or tried to.

He drove to Apex.

The gym was closed.

Dmitri let him in through the rear door.

They walked to the lockers.

Number 17 was rusted.

Dmitri handed Thomas a crowbar.

Thomas opened it.

Inside was a small metal box.

No name.

No label.

Thomas opened it.

A flash drive.

And a handwritten note.

If you are reading this, I was right.

Thomas's hands trembled.

The note continued.

The betrayal came from inside.

Thomas looked at Dmitri.

"Who knew about this?"

"Nobody."

Thomas looked at the flash drive.

Then he whispered:

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because Mercer died before he could leave this."

Dmitri stared.

Thomas turned the drive over.

There was a date engraved on it.

Three days after Mercer's death.

Thomas stopped breathing.

Someone had continued Mercer's work after he died.

And they had deliberately left the evidence for Thomas to find.

The Man Behind the Name

They opened the drive on Dmitri's office computer.

The first file was a video.

Daniel Mercer appeared on screen.

Older than the photograph.

Tired.

Serious.

Thomas sat down.

"Tom," Mercer said.

Thomas closed his eyes.

"If you're watching this, I'm dead."

Dmitri looked away.

Mercer continued.

"I don't know how much time you have."

The video flickered.

"There was a leak."

Thomas leaned closer.

"I originally thought it was outside the unit."

Mercer shook his head.

"It wasn't."

A document appeared.

Four names.

Thomas recognized three.

The fourth was Richard Harrington.

Thomas stared.

Dmitri whispered:

"Harrington?"

Mercer continued.

"Richard Harrington has been funding private security operations through shell companies. We don't yet know why."

The screen changed.

Bank transfers.

Dates.

Company names.

Payments.

Thomas's face hardened.

"He's been buying information."

Mercer nodded on the recording.

"We believe Harrington received advance knowledge of federal operations involving certain development properties."

Dmitri looked confused.

"What does a developer want with federal operations?"

Thomas knew.

"Land."

Mercer continued.

"Several neighborhoods were scheduled for federal protection because of witnesses connected to organized financial crime."

Thomas stopped the video.

Dmitri stared.

"Thomas?"

"He was clearing people out."

"Why?"

"To buy their property."

Dmitri slowly understood.

Harrington's development company had been purchasing distressed neighborhoods.

But if people refused to sell, certain properties became difficult.

Unless the residents were suddenly declared unsafe.

Unless investigations created pressure.

Unless intimidation made people leave.

Thomas restarted the video.

Mercer said:

"Someone inside our unit is helping him."

A list appeared.

Three names.

Thomas recognized the first.

Dead.

The second.

Missing.

The third—

Thomas froze.

"That's impossible."

Dmitri looked at him.

"Who?"

Thomas didn't answer.

Mercer continued.

"The person has access to our route plans."

Thomas stopped the video again.

"Who?"

Dmitri pointed.

"Thomas."

Thomas stared at the name.

Colonel Adrian Vale.

Former commanding officer.

A man Thomas had trusted.

A man who had written the report blaming Thomas for the failed operation.

A man who had told Thomas after Mercer's death:

"You need to forget."

Thomas whispered:

"He knew."

The office door opened.

They turned.

Preston stood there.

Thomas immediately moved in front of Dmitri.

Preston raised both hands.

"I'm not here to fight."

"Then why are you here?"

Preston looked nervous.

"Because my father is going to kill you."

Dmitri frowned.

"What?"

Preston swallowed.

"I heard him talking."

"When?"

"Last night."

Thomas studied him.

"Why tell me?"

Preston looked down.

"Because I saw the video."

"The one at the police station?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I realized you could have hurt me."

Thomas said nothing.

Preston continued.

"You didn't."

Thomas looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because I don't hurt people who can't fight back."

Preston laughed bitterly.

"That was the problem."

Thomas frowned.

Preston's voice lowered.

"My father has been using me."

"For what?"

"To make the gym look aggressive."

Thomas waited.

Preston explained.

"He wanted Apex to attract wealthy investors. He said fighters would create a reputation."

Dmitri looked disgusted.

"Your father owns half the sponsorship."

"More than half."

Preston sat down.

"He told me to provoke people."

Thomas understood.

Greg.

Other members.

People who had left.

It was not random.

Preston had been taught to create incidents.

Then his father could pressure Dmitri.

More money.

More control.

Eventually, Apex would become another Harrington property.

Thomas looked at him.

"You knew?"

Preston nodded.

"Some of it."

"And you went along."