Then he looked back at Damien.
"Things you can't fix."
The fighter's smile weakened.
Only slightly.
Then he laughed again.
"You're weird, old man."
"Probably."
Damien grabbed one of the empty chairs.
He spun it around and sat backward on it.
"You know who I am?"
"No."
Leon nearly choked laughing.
"Come on," Damien said.
"I don't."
"Damien Cole."
Dominic waited.
Damien waited for recognition.
Nothing came.
"Fifteen-and-zero."
Dominic nodded politely.
"Congratulations."
"Professional MMA."
"That's nice."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"I own Ironclad."
"I don't live around here."
"I'm a black belt."
Dominic nodded again.
"Congratulations."
Brad began to look uncomfortable.
Leon stopped laughing.
Damien leaned forward.
"You fight?"
Dominic looked at him.
"No."
It wasn't technically a lie.
Not anymore.
Damien smiled.
"I could teach you."
"No, thanks."
"I could have you on the ground in five seconds."
"I'm sure you could."
Again.
That answer.
No challenge.
No fear.
No admiration.
Damien stood.
"You know what your problem is?"
Dominic reopened his book.
"No."
"You think because you're old, nobody can touch you."
Dominic turned a wet page.
"I don't think that."
"Then what?"
"I think you're hungry."
Damien stared.
"What?"
"You came in here after training. You're tired, hungry, and angry about something that has nothing to do with me."
The diner went silent.
Damien's face changed.
"Don't psychoanalyze me."
"I'm not."
"You don't know anything about me."
Dominic looked at him.
"I know enough."
Damien stepped closer.
Dominic's eyes moved once.
Down.
Hands.
Feet.
Distance.
Exit.
Then back to Damien's face.
It lasted less than a second.
But something inside Damien reacted.
The trucker had changed.
Not physically.
Not visibly.
Yet suddenly, Damien felt something he hadn't expected.
Uncertainty.
He hated it.
So he pushed Dominic's table.
Hard.
Coffee splashed.
Sarah shouted.
"Damien!"
The fighter looked at Dominic.
"Do something."
Dominic slowly stood.
The diner became completely silent.
Dominic was six feet one.
He wasn't as muscular as Damien.
He didn't have tattoos.
He didn't have championship belts.
But when he stood, Damien realized something.
The older man's body was different.
Not gym muscle.
Not sculpted muscle.
Dense.
Heavy.
Functional.
The body of someone who had spent decades carrying equipment and moving through places where strength was necessary for survival.
Dominic looked at Damien.
"Sit down."
The words were quiet.
Damien smiled.
"Or what?"
Dominic sighed.
It was not a dramatic sigh.
It sounded tired.
"I don't want trouble."
Damien laughed.
"You already got it."
Then he shoved Dominic.
Hard.
Dominic moved half a step.
No more.
Damien stared.
The diner held its breath.
Dominic looked at him.
"I said sit down."
Damien's face darkened.
"Make me."
The second mistake had been made.
The Mistake
There are moments in life when a room changes.
Nobody announces it.
No music plays.
No warning appears.
But every person present understands that something has shifted.
The moment Damien Cole threw his first punch, O'Malley's Diner changed.
Dominic saw the shoulder move before the fist.
He saw the weight transfer.
He saw Damien's chin lift slightly.
The punch was fast.
It was powerful.
It was technically sound.
Against most men in the diner, it would have been devastating.
Dominic moved.
Not backward.
To the side.
Damien's fist passed through empty air.
Before the fighter could recover, Dominic caught his wrist.
Not violently.
Firmly.
He redirected the momentum.
Damien stumbled.
One step.
Two.
Then Dominic released him.
The fighter turned.
His eyes were wide.
The diner remained silent.
Dominic stood exactly where he had been.
"You missed."
Damien's face turned red.
Leon whispered, "Damien."
"Shut up."
Damien came forward again.
This time, he was angry.
Anger made him faster.
It also made him predictable.
He threw a combination.
Dominic blocked.
Redirected.
Moved.
Damien punched air.
Again.
Again.
The fighter's breathing became louder.
Dominic's did not change.
Sarah stood behind the counter with one hand covering her mouth.
Brad backed away.
Leon finally understood that something was wrong.
Damien attacked again.
He changed levels.
Shot for Dominic's legs.
The movement was clean.
Fast.
Professional.