When she returned to the mat, Marcus was waiting.
"So," he said, "what exactly do you train?"
"Judo mostly."
That was true.
It was also spectacularly incomplete.
Marcus nodded toward a muscular brown belt named Derek.
"Derek, warm her up."
Derek smiled.
"Sure."
Amara looked at Marcus.
"How long?"
"Three minutes."
Derek stepped onto the mat.
They bumped fists.
The timer sounded.
Derek immediately reached for Amara's head.
She moved away.
He tried again.
She circled.
The spectators grew restless.
"Come on," someone called.
Derek shot for a double-leg takedown.
Amara sprawled lightly and stepped aside.
He recovered.
His smile disappeared.
Second attempt.
She redirected him.
Third attempt.
Nothing.
Marcus frowned.
"Stop running," Derek muttered.
"I'm standing right here."
He lunged.
For an instant, Amara's body moved on instinct.
Her right foot stepped outside his.
Her hips turned.
Her hand caught his sleeve.
She could have thrown him.
The opening was perfect.
For a fraction of a second, the old Amara returned.
She saw the throw before it happened.
Derek airborne.
The mat rushing toward him.
Everyone going silent.
Then she released the grip.
Derek stumbled instead.
The timer sounded.
"That's it?" Marcus asked.
Amara shrugged.
"You said warm up."
A few students laughed, but this time they were laughing at Derek.
Marcus noticed.
His expression changed.
He walked onto the mat.
"Let's see something more useful."
He pointed toward a tall black belt standing near the wall.
"Nathan."
Amara recognized him immediately.
The man who had injured Julian.
Nathan stepped forward.
Up close, he was even larger than he had appeared on the video.
"Her?"
Marcus grinned.
"Unless you're worried."
Nathan laughed.
"About what?"
Amara looked at him.
No anger.
Not yet.
Marcus noticed her staring.
"You know him?"
"I've seen him before."
"Where?"
"Online."
Nathan cracked his neck.
Marcus called several students closer.
Phones appeared.
Amara saw them.
Exactly as Julian had warned.
Marcus loved an audience.
"How much do you weigh?" Nathan asked her.
"Enough."
He laughed.
"That's cute."
Marcus raised a hand.
"Two-minute round. Submission grappling."
Amara's fingers touched the zipper of her jacket.
Then stopped.
Not yet.
She looked at Marcus instead.
"Do your students always film sparring partners without asking?"
Marcus's smile vanished slightly.
"This is my gym."
"That wasn't my question."
Silence spread around them.
For the first time that evening, Marcus Vale looked less amused than annoyed.
"Take off the jacket," he said.
Amara slowly reached for the zipper.
Nathan was still smiling.
He would stop in a few seconds.
The zipper traveled downward.
Amara removed the jacket and folded it once.
The room changed.
At first, nobody understood why.
Then a woman near the wall inhaled sharply.
"Wait."
Amara's compression shirt had a small faded emblem printed over the heart.
A circle surrounding three simple letters.
WCG.
Most students didn't recognize it.
Nathan did.
His smile vanished.
Marcus looked from Nathan to Amara.
"What?"
Nathan stared at the emblem.
"No way."
One of the older students stepped closer.
"World Combat Games?"
Amara placed her jacket beside the mat.
The whispers spread.
Marcus laughed awkwardly.
"Anybody can buy a shirt."
Amara nodded.
"True."
Nathan didn't laugh.
He had begun staring at her face.
Recognition was forming.
He had seen her before.
Not recently.
Three years earlier.
Different hair.
Different body language.
Standing on a medal platform in Warsaw.
"No," he said quietly.
Marcus looked at him.
"What?"
Nathan's voice dropped.
"That's Amara Reed."
Someone immediately searched the name.
Phone screens lit up.
A student near the cage stared down at his screen.
"Whoa."
Another one spoke.
"Pan-American judo champion."
A third corrected him.
"Former champion."
Another result appeared.
"International grappling invitational winner."
Then another.
"Twenty-nine wins?"
"Twenty-nine official senior matches," Nathan muttered.
Amara looked at him.
"Thirty-one."
Nathan swallowed.
The room became silent.
Three years earlier, Amara had been one of the fastest-rising lightweight grapplers in the country.
She had won national judo tournaments.
She had beaten athletes with far more experience.
At twenty-one, she was invited to a major international training camp.
Then she disappeared.
No retirement announcement.
No farewell interview.
No explanation.
Just gone.
Marcus attempted a laugh.
"So you're some ex-competitor. Big deal."
Amara nodded toward Nathan.
"We sparring?"
Nathan glanced at Marcus.
Pride trapped him.
Backing away would be humiliating.
He stepped onto the mat.
"Sure."
Marcus restarted the timer.
Nathan moved cautiously now.
No jokes.
No reckless charge.
He reached for Amara's wrist.
She caught his.
One step.
A turn.
His feet left the ground.
The impact shook the mat.
The entire exchange took perhaps two seconds.
Before Nathan understood where he was, Amara had moved beside him, controlled his arm, and stopped.
She did not apply the lock.
She simply held the position.
"Tap," she said.
Nathan struggled.
Amara tightened the position by perhaps an inch.
Nathan slapped the mat immediately.
She released him and stood.
Nobody spoke.
Nathan sat upright, breathing hard.
Amara looked down at him.
"My brother tapped too."
Nathan froze.
Marcus's face changed.
Amara continued.
"Julian Reed."
Now everyone understood.
Nathan looked toward Marcus.
Marcus stepped forward.
"This is some kind of stunt."
"No."
Amara picked up her jacket.
"This is me finding out whether what happened to him was an accident."
"And?"
She looked at Nathan.
Then at Marcus.
"I don't think it was."
Amara expected Marcus to order her out.
Instead, he became defensive.
"Your brother entered a combat-sports gym," he said. "People get hurt."
"After they tap?"
Nathan stood.
"I told you, I didn't feel it."
Amara looked at him.
"You looked directly at his hand."
Nathan's face reddened.
"You weren't there."
"I saw the video."
Several students exchanged glances.
Marcus noticed.
His voice grew louder.
"This conversation is over."