“Thomas Reed.”
The students didn't react, but Coach Ellis lost all color in his face. He turned to Brandon, his voice soft. “He was my first coach.”
Brandon laughed, but it lacked its usual bite. “This old guy?”
Brandon, drowning in his own bruised pride, refused to back down. He walked to the center of the mat. “Fine. You understand pressure. Show me.”
Thomas sighed wearily. “Fear is useful. It tells a man where the edge is. You lost yours.”
He stepped onto the center of the mat. He didn't bounce. He didn't shake his arms loose. He just stood there, balanced and calm.
“What rules?” Brandon smirked.
Thomas looked toward Jenna. “She makes the rules.”
Everyone turned to her. Jenna froze.
“You do not have to,” Thomas said softly. “But if this room is going to use your pain as the reason it finally learns, you should have the first say in what is allowed.”
Jenna looked at Brandon, who was staring at her with thinly veiled contempt. She looked at Coach Ellis, who was staring at the floor. Her wrist throbbed.
She stood up. Her voice shook, but she forced the words out.
“No striking,” Jenna said. “Just grappling. And when he says stop... you stop. Immediately. But not before.”
Thomas nodded once. “Understood.”
Brandon barked a laugh. “I’m not gonna say stop, sweetheart.”
“Match begins,” Thomas said quietly.
Brandon didn't wait. He shot forward with explosive speed, aiming to double-leg takedown the older man and end the match in seconds to prove a point. He drove his shoulder hard toward Thomas's hips.
But Thomas wasn't there.