Just slightly.
Preston saw it.
He mistook the change for weakness.
“I knew it,” he said.
Thomas said nothing.
Preston smiled.
“There's something behind those scars.”
Thomas looked at the floor.
For a moment, the gym disappeared.
He remembered another floor.
Another room.
Another night.
He remembered three names.
Daniel.
Marcus.
Eli.
Three men who had trusted him.
Three men who had not come home.
Thomas closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was back at Apex.
Dmitri noticed.
“Tom?”
“I'm fine.”
But he wasn't.
Not entirely.
Because Preston had accidentally touched the one part of Thomas's life he had spent six years trying not to remember.
What the Scars Remembered
The third round began with silence.
No jokes.
No cheering.
Even Cole had stopped recording.
Preston stood across from Thomas.
For the first time that afternoon, he looked young.
Not powerful.
Not dangerous.
Young.
Thomas saw something he recognized.
Fear disguised as aggression.
It was an old disguise.
He had worn it himself once.
Preston moved first.
He jabbed.
Thomas parried.
Preston kicked.
Thomas stepped back.
Preston advanced.
This time, Thomas did not retreat.
He met him.
Not with violence.
With control.
Thomas caught the next punch and redirected Preston's momentum.
Preston stumbled.
Thomas released him.
“Again,” Preston said.
“No.”
“Again!”
Thomas shook his head.
“You're tired.”
“So?”
“So you're making mistakes.”
“I don't care.”
“You should.”
Preston attacked.
Thomas avoided.
Again.
Again.
Preston became frustrated.
His breathing turned ragged.
His shoulders rose.
His right hand dropped.
Thomas noticed.
Preston swung wide.
Thomas stepped inside.
The fight ended almost before anyone realized it had ended.
Thomas controlled Preston's arm, turned his body, and put him on the mat.
No slam.
No unnecessary pressure.
Just complete control.
Preston tried to escape.
Thomas held him.
Preston twisted.
Thomas adjusted.
He could have hurt him.
He did not.
“Get off me!”
Thomas released him.
Preston scrambled backward.
The cage suddenly felt very small.
Thomas stood.
“You're done.”
Preston looked furious.
“I said I'm not done.”
“You are.”
“I decide when I'm done.”
Thomas stared at him.
“No.”
The word was quiet.
But it carried.
“No,” Thomas repeated. “You don't.”
Preston rose.
His eyes were wet with rage.
“You think you're better than me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Thomas looked at him for several seconds.
“I think you don't know who you are yet.”
Nobody spoke.
Preston's chest rose and fell.
Then he looked at the scars.
“Who were you?”
Thomas did not answer.
Dmitri stepped closer.
“That's enough.”
But Preston continued.
“Who were you before you started cleaning floors?”
Thomas looked at him.
“A man who thought he could protect everyone.”
The gym became completely silent.
“What happened?” Preston asked.
Thomas looked away.
“I learned better.”
He walked toward the cage door.
Dmitri unlocked it.
Thomas stepped through.
Preston remained inside.
“You're a coward,” Preston said.
Thomas stopped.
The words struck harder than the punches.
Thomas slowly turned.
“A coward?”
Preston was breathing heavily.
“You hide behind a mop.”
Thomas stared at him.
Then he said something that made Preston's expression change.
“Maybe.”
Thomas picked up his work shirt.
“Maybe that's the first smart thing I've done.”
He put the shirt back on.
Dmitri watched him.
“Tom.”
Thomas looked at him.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For letting this happen.”
Thomas shook his head.
“You didn't make him.”
“No.”
Dmitri looked toward Preston.
“But I let him become this.”
Thomas said nothing.
Preston stepped out of the cage.
For a moment, nobody knew what would happen.
Then Preston walked toward the reception desk.
He stopped.
Looked at the broken frame on the floor.
The shattered glass.
The ruined fight poster.
Then he looked at Thomas.
“What's your name?”
Thomas frowned.
“You know my name.”
“No.”
Preston's voice had changed.
“I mean your real name.”
Thomas hesitated.
“Thomas Decker.”
Preston repeated it.
“Thomas Decker.”
He looked at Dmitri.
“What did he do?”
Dmitri answered honestly.
“I don't know.”
Thomas picked up the mop.
“Keep it that way.”
And he walked away.
The Truth Comes Back
The next morning, Thomas arrived at Apex at six.
He unlocked the storage room.
Filled the mop bucket.
Checked the bathrooms.
Everything was normal.
That was what he wanted.
At seven-thirty, Dmitri found him near the locker rooms.
“Tom.”
Thomas continued wiping a mirror.
“What?”
“I looked you up.”
Thomas stopped.
Dmitri looked uncomfortable.
“Why?”
“Because I was curious.”
“You shouldn't be.”
“I know.”
Thomas resumed cleaning.
Dmitri remained there.
“I found a military article.”
Thomas's hand stopped.
“Dmitri.”
“It had your photograph.”
Thomas turned.
“Don't.”
“I didn't know.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
Dmitri lowered his voice.
“You were a captain.”
Thomas said nothing.
“Special operations?”
Thomas stared at him.
Dmitri understood.
“Yes.”
Thomas folded the cloth.
“Please don't tell anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because I work here.”