“If he wants to teach you.”
Marcus looked toward the warehouse doors.
“And if he doesn't?”
Raymond's answer was immediate.
“Then you leave him alone.”
Marcus said nothing.
Raymond understood that silence.
“You're thinking about challenging him again.”
“I'm thinking about finding out what he knows.”
“Those are not necessarily different things when you're the one asking.”
Marcus looked away.
Raymond placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Listen to me. The best fighters I ever met were not the ones who believed they could beat everyone. They were the ones who understood how much they still had to learn.”
Marcus watched the bag settle.
For once, he did not argue.
But by the time Raymond left, Marcus had already made up his mind.
He was going to find Samuel Bennett.
And this time, he intended to ask the right questions.
Samuel was repairing a broken fence when Marcus's black SUV pulled into the driveway.
The vehicle looked absurd against the weathered barn, the rusted tractor, and the rows of equipment arranged beneath a tin-roofed shelter. It was polished so thoroughly that the late-afternoon sun reflected from its windows.
Samuel drove a fence staple into the post, then straightened slowly.
Marcus stepped out wearing a black training shirt, athletic trousers, and expensive sneakers that were entirely unsuitable for the muddy ground.
“Mr. Bennett.”
Samuel looked at him.
“Mr. Reed.”
“You remember me.”
“You're difficult to forget.”
Marcus glanced at the fence.
“Need a hand?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly that Marcus almost laughed.
“Straight to the point. I respect that.”
Samuel returned to his work.
Marcus remained beside the SUV, uncertain how to proceed. He had prepared several speeches during the drive, but none seemed appropriate now that he was standing in front of a man who appeared completely uninterested in his presence.
“I came to apologize,” he said finally.
Samuel set down the hammer.
“For what?”
“For the way I treated you.”
“That was unnecessary.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Marcus frowned.
“I wouldn't have driven all the way out here if I didn't.”
Samuel studied him for a moment.
Then he nodded toward the farmhouse.
“There's coffee inside.”
Marcus followed him across the yard.
The kitchen was small and orderly. A wooden table stood beneath a window overlooking the fields. A calendar hung beside the refrigerator, and several unpaid bills had been arranged into neat piles at one end of the table.
Marcus noticed them but pretended not to.
Samuel poured coffee into two mugs.
“You wanted to ask me something.”
Marcus accepted the mug.
“I want to know where you learned to move like that.”
“Years of work.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that teaches you to pay attention.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“Raymond Cole saw the video. He recognized the technique. He said you might have taught it to military personnel.”
Samuel's expression hardened.
“Raymond Cole?”
“You know him?”
“I knew someone who knew him.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No,” Samuel agreed. “It isn't.”
Marcus placed the mug on the table.
“I'm serious. I want to learn.”
Samuel looked at him with quiet disbelief.
“Learn what?”
“How to defend myself the way you did.”
“You already know how to defend yourself.”
“I know how to fight.”
“Those aren't the same thing.”
The words struck Marcus with surprising force.
Samuel continued.
“You've spent years learning how to hurt people efficiently. That's a skill. A difficult one. But it doesn't automatically teach you how to control yourself when someone insults you, challenges you, or refuses to behave the way you expect.”
Marcus felt his face warm.
“I came here to apologize.”
“And I accepted your apology.”
“Then why are you lecturing me?”
“Because you asked me to teach you.”
Samuel sat opposite him.
“Before I teach anyone anything, I need to know why they want to learn.”
Marcus had never been asked that question by a coach. Trainers asked about goals, weaknesses, and schedules. Managers asked about rankings, earnings, and promotional opportunities.
Nobody asked why he wanted to become stronger.
“I have a fight in six weeks,” he said.
“Then you should train with your coach.”
“My opponent is better than anyone I've faced.”
“Then you should respect him enough to prepare properly.”
Marcus looked at the bills again.
“Is the farm in trouble?”
Samuel's eyes followed his.
“That's none of your business.”
“I'm not trying to offend you.”
“Then don't.”
Silence settled between them.
Marcus realized that he had come expecting to negotiate. He was accustomed to people responding to money, status, or the promise of opportunity. Samuel appeared unmoved by all three.
Finally, Marcus stood.
“I understand. You don't want to teach me.”
Samuel walked him to the door.
“I didn't say that.”
Marcus turned.
“You didn't?”
“I said I need to understand why you want to learn.”
“And how long will that take?”
Samuel looked out toward the fields.
“As long as it takes.”
Marcus exhaled sharply.
He had expected rejection, but uncertainty was worse.
At the SUV, Samuel spoke again.
“Mr. Reed.”
Marcus turned.