Chapter 14 - The black wax seal
The quiet inside the gym was suffocating. Travis swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing under his stubbled throat. He kept his palms spread flat at his sides, fingers open, showing no aggression, no posturing, and no hidden blades. He lowered his head, unable to maintain eye contact with Marcus’s piercing stare.
"I didn't come to cause trouble," Travis whispered, his voice cracked and hollow. "I swear on my mother’s grave, Marcus. I wouldn't dare."
Tessa stepped forward, moving quietly beside her father. Her stance was balanced, her guard ready, yet she waited for her father’s command. Marcus raised a subtle finger, signaling her to stand easy. "The mats are for training, Travis. If you're looking for another exhibition, the doors are locked for the night."
"No," Travis stammered, pulling the thick manila envelope from beneath his worn leather jacket. His hands shook visibly as he held it out into the empty space between them. The paper was creased, smudged with oil, and sealed at the back with a circle of hardened black wax stamped with an embossed insignia: two crossed wrenches beneath a heavy anvil.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed instantly. The color did not leave his weathered face, but his breathing altered, dropping into a deep, rhythmic stillness. He knew that stamp. It had not been used in fourteen years, not since a classified detachment of military field mechanics and tactical specialists was decommissioned under a shroud of deniable fire in Eastern Europe.
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"Where did you get this?" Marcus’s voice dropped an octave, quiet yet carrying the weight of a dropped iron anvil.
"Two men cornered me at the truck stop on Highway 9," Travis whispered, cold sweat dripping down his temple. "They broke three of my ribs before asking where you kept your shop records. When I refused, they shoved this into my coat. They said if you didn't reopen the Black Ridge depot by sunrise, they wouldn't just take the town’s deed—they would take your girl."
