With a minute shift of his feet, Thomas pivoted. He didn't use muscle to stop the younger man; he simply guided Brandon’s momentum past him. As Brandon stumbled forward, Thomas’s hand clamped onto the back of Brandon’s collar, pulling downward and snapping Brandon’s posture.
Brandon hit the mat face-first with a heavy thud.
He scrambled up immediately, face flushed red with embarrassment. He swung a heavy collar tie, trying to muscle Thomas into submission. Thomas accepted the grip, his expression entirely unchanged.
For the next three minutes, the gym watched a masterclass in invisible mechanics.
Brandon fought with fury, burning energy, grunting as he tried to throw the older man. But every time he pushed, Thomas yielded, slipping away. Every time Brandon pulled, Thomas crowded him, disrupting his balance. It was like fighting water.
Sweat poured off Brandon. His breathing, already heavy from his round with Jenna, turned ragged. Panic began to set in, not from pain, but from the sudden, terrifying realization of utter helplessness. He was being dismantled, not by speed or power, but by timing and absolute control.
Thomas finally decided the lesson had gone on long enough.
As Brandon lunged for a desperate single-leg takedown, Thomas sprawled, his hips sinking heavy and dead into Brandon’s back. Brandon flattened out under the crushing weight.
Thomas transitioned smoothly, sliding his knee precisely onto Brandon's hip—the exact position Brandon had used on Jenna. He secured Brandon’s far wrist, pinning it immovably to the mat.
Brandon thrashed. He bucked his hips. He shoved with his free hand.
Thomas didn't budge. He felt immovable, a statue cast in iron. The older man’s breathing was entirely normal.
“Breathe,” Thomas whispered, echoing Brandon's earlier taunt.
Brandon gritted his teeth, straining with every ounce of muscle he had.
“Relax,” Thomas said, shifting his weight just enough to make Brandon’s lungs burn for oxygen.
Brandon slapped the mat with his free hand. A loud, frantic tap.
Thomas didn't move.
“That wasn’t a real tap,” Thomas said, his voice carrying clearly across the dead-silent gym. “That was frustration.”
Brandon’s eyes widened in panic. He tapped again, faster, harder.