Chapter 10 - Ambush at the Gym
The next morning, I refused to stay locked inside the house.
Discipline is the anchor of a fighter's life. When the world outside turns chaotic, you return to the mats. By 6:30 AM, I was inside *Vance Combat & Fitness*, unlocking the roll-up glass doors, turning on the high-bay industrial lights, and setting out the sanitizer buckets for the morning Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class.
My left shoulder was still tender from the burns, but Dr. Patel had cleared me for light conditioning and pad work as long as I kept the area dry and covered.
I was wrapping my hands near the heavy bag rack—weaving the black cotton tape between my knuckles with mechanical precision—when the front bell jangled.
I looked up, expecting my assistant coach, Marcus.
Instead, three men walked in.
Leading them was Richard Sterling. He was no longer dressed in his soft cashmere vests; he wore a heavy leather bomber jacket, flanked by two towering men with shaved heads, thick necks, and cauliflower ears of their own. They didn't look like country club socialites. They looked like the kind of low-tier bouncers and enforcers hired out of underground fight clubs to settle debts.
"Gym’s closed for another half hour, Richard," I said without looking up, pulling the wrap tightly across my wrist.
"We aren't here for a membership, Maya," Richard said, stopping five feet from the edge of the mat. His voice was shaky, trying to sound authoritative and failing miserably. "Serafina spent two nights in a cell before my family could scrape together the cash bail. Her face is pale. She’s having panic attacks."
"She should try yoga," I said. "Helps with anxiety."
"You drop the charges," Richard stepped onto the canvas, his boots squeaking against the vinyl. "You call the DA, tell them you lied, and tell them it was an accident. Otherwise, things are going to get very complicated for this place."
One of the thugs behind him cracked his knuckles, a deliberate, theatrical show of intimidation. "Nice gym. Lots of expensive equipment. Shame if an electrical fire started in the locker rooms."
I finished securing the velcro on my right wrap, took off my track jacket, and stepped onto the center of the ring canvas.
"Richard," I said calmly. "Do you know what the primary difference is between an amateur tough guy and an eight-time professional world champion?"
The thug on the right smirked. "What's that, sweet—"
Before the word could leave his mouth, I closed the distance.
In the cage, distance management is everything. I didn't throw a strike. I didn't violate the law. I stepped deep into his blind spot, caught his outstretched wrist with a two-on-one Russian tie, pivoted on my right heel, and dropped my center of mass.
Two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle went flying through the air in a textbook Harai Goshi hip throw.
*THUD!*
The thug slammed onto the canvas with a bone-jarring impact that knocked every molecule of air out of his lungs. Before he could process what had happened, my knee was planted firmly on his sternum, my right forearm tucked beneath his chin in a dominant, suffocating position.
The second thug reached into his jacket pocket.
"Don't," a booming voice echoed from the front entrance.
Marcus stood by the reception desk, a heavy steel tire iron resting casually across his shoulder, his phone held high in his left hand, recording the entire incident.
"That's a class-A felony commercial trespass, witness intimidation, and attempted extortion," Marcus said, grinning. "All livestreamed directly to the precinct's secure server. You boys want to stay for the morning sparring session, or are you taking your trash out now?"
Richard’s face went entirely white. He looked at the groaning giant pinned under my knee, then at Marcus, and finally back at me.
"Get off him," Richard whispered, his voice cracking. "We're leaving."
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I stood up smoothly, stepping off the man’s chest. The thug rolled over onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for breath.
"Tell Delphine," I said, leaning down so Richard could hear every word, "that every time she sends someone to intimidate me, the settlement demands go up by a million dollars. Now get out of my gym."
