"Good."

Marcus hesitated.

"Jack."

"What?"

"Your old students are talking."

"About me?"

"About the man who trained them."

I sat down.

I had spent years teaching people how to remain composed under pressure.

I had never expected them to remember me.

"Tell them to forget."

"I tried."

"And?"

"They don't want to."

I closed my eyes.

My old life wasn't buried.

It was waiting.

The next morning, Derek came to my house.

He didn't knock.

He stood at the gate.

"You think you're better than everyone here."

I didn't answer.

He continued.

"I know you've been hiding something."

I looked at him.

"You're right."

His expression changed.

"What?"

"I'm hiding a past."

He smiled.

"I knew it."

"But it's not what you think."

"What is it?"

I looked directly at him.

"Something you shouldn't want to discover."

He stepped forward.

"Try me."

I shook my head.

"Go home, Derek."

He laughed.

Then he made a mistake.

He pushed the gate.

I stepped back.

"Don't."

He pushed again.

This time, I didn't move.

He stopped.

For a moment, we simply looked at each other.

Then I said quietly,

"You don't want this."

He smiled.

"You're wrong."

He walked away.

I watched him go.

Then I called Marcus.

"Send me everything."

Marcus was silent.

"You sure?"

"No."

I looked toward Derek's house.

"But I think I need to know what he's involved in."

Because I finally understood.

Derek wasn't the storm.

He was only the first drop of rain.

Marcus sent me a photograph.

It showed a group of young men standing outside an old training facility.

I recognized the building.

It had been closed for years.

The photograph was recent.

"Where did you get this?"

Marcus answered,

"One of our old contacts."

"Who are they?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out."

I stared at the image.

Then I noticed something.

A familiar logo on the wall.

A symbol from a training program I had helped build years ago.

It wasn't public.

It wasn't supposed to exist anymore.

Someone had recreated it.

I drove to the facility.

I didn't go inside.

I simply watched.

People came and went.

Most looked like ordinary gym members.

But a few moved differently.

Not aggressively.

Purposefully.

I remembered that feeling.

I hated it.

Then someone stepped outside.

Derek.

I stared.

He saw me.

His expression changed.

He walked toward my car.

"You followed me?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same."

He looked toward the building.

"I train here sometimes."

"I thought you trained at Apex."

"I do both."

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Because I want to get better."

I studied him.

For the first time, I saw something beneath the arrogance.

Fear.

Derek wasn't simply showing off.

He was desperate to prove himself.

"Who runs this place?"

He hesitated.

"Some people."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Derek looked at me.

"You don't understand."

"Maybe."

"They told me you were nobody."

I frowned.