Chapter 16 - Midnight footsteps
Marcus regarded Travis for a long, silent moment. The gym clock ticked against the wall, each second dragging out like a slow drop of water. Finally, Marcus gestured toward the wooden bench near the equipment rack. "Tessa, bring the antiseptic from the first-aid kit and two rolls of elastic wrap. His fourth rib is cracked."
"Dad—" Tessa began, her tone questioning.
"Do it, honey," Marcus replied gently, his voice carrying undeniable authority. "A man who chooses honor over cowardice earns a bandage in this house."
Tessa nodded once and disappeared into the back office. Marcus pulled down the heavy canvas blinds across the gym’s front display windows, plunging the room into soft, muted shadows lit only by the single work lamp near the desk. He locked the double steel deadbolts with practiced ease.
"Who is The Contractor?" Travis asked, wincing as he sat down on the polished bench.
Marcus did not answer immediately. He walked to the old gunmetal locker behind the counter, spun a five-digit combination dial, and swung the heavy door open. Inside hung no trophies, no boxing belts, and no framed certificates. Resting on the upper shelf was a modular tactical radio, an encrypted black hard drive, and a pair of reinforced carbon-fiber knuckle guards, dull and scuffed from years of hard use.
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"Fourteen years ago, before I turned wrenches in Oak Ridge, my unit tracked military-grade supply theft along border corridors," Marcus said, his tone devoid of emotion. "The Contractor was a broker who bought decommissioned military hardware and sold it to private corporate militias. When our operation ended, sixty crates of encrypted guidance chips went missing near the rail yard. Mayor Henderson didn't run this town on local tax revenue, Travis. He ran it on bribes paid to keep those rail yards unmonitored."
Suddenly, the halogen lights overhead flickered twice, buzzed with an erratic hum, and died completely.
