Chapter 4 - The Drive Home
The cab of Cole’s truck smelled like cedar air freshener and old coffee—a safe, grounded scent that felt a million miles away from the stench of sweat and malice at Apex Grappling.
I stared out the passenger window as the neon lights of the strip mall blurred into streaks of red and yellow through the rain-speckled glass. My neck throbbed where Derek’s forearm had crushed my windpipe, but the ache in my chest was entirely emotional.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, breaking the long silence as we hit the highway on-ramp.
Cole kept his eyes on the road, his hands resting easily at ten and two on the steering wheel. "For what?"
"For being weak," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "For not being able to handle him. For letting him humiliate me, and then dragging you into his stupid gym drama on your only weekend off."
Cole reached across the center console and gave my hand a firm, grounding squeeze.
"Listen to me, Sarah," he said, his tone softening into that gentle, protective older-brother cadence I hadn't heard since we were kids. "When I first checked into BUD/S selection ten years ago, I weighed one hundred and sixty pounds. I was the smallest guy in my boat crew. Big guys like Derek—guys who use their size to intimidate people who are just trying to learn—they're cowards at heart. They don't want a fair fight. They want a victim."
"I just wanted to learn how to protect myself," I murmured, staring down at my bruised knuckles. "I wanted to not feel scared when walking to my car at night."
"And you will," Cole said firmly. "Just not at a gym run by thugs who protect ego over safety."
"What are we going to do?" I asked, looking over at him. "Marcus and Derek own that gym community. They’ve got thirty other students who think the sun shines out of Derek's black belt."
A slow, quiet smile spread across Cole’s face—the kind of smile that usually preceded a very complicated, highly organized tactical operation.
"Well," Cole said smoothly, "first, we’re going to help you finish moving your apartment into your new place. Second, we’re going to file a formal complaint with the state athletic commission and corporate insurance. And third... I happen to know a guy who runs an actual, legitimate martial arts academy downtown. A guy named Master Lee. No egos, no bullies, just real technique."
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I let out a shaky breath, the tight knot in my stomach finally beginning to loosen. "You think Master Lee will take me?"
"After I tell him you're my sister and you survived fifteen seconds in a death choke from a 210-pound ego-maniac?" Cole chuckled. "He'll probably hand you a gi on the spot."
