Vincent walked over and opened it. Standing on the porch was a man in his mid-50s, tall and broad-shouldered with a gray beard and a leather vest covered in patches. His eyes were sharp and cold. "Marcus," Vincent said, nodding. "Vincent. " Marcus stepped inside, glancing at Ethan and Linda.
Heard your boy had some trouble last night. Not trouble, Vincent said. Just a lesson that needed teaching. Marcus grinned. I like this kid already.
So, what's the plan? We're going to pay Derek Hoffman a visit, Vincent said. All of us. Linda stepped forward. Vincent, you can't.
I can, Vincent said gently. And I will. This isn't about revenge. It's about respect. Derek needs to understand that there are consequences for running his mouth.
Marcus looked at Ethan. You coming, kid? Ethan glanced at his father. Vincent nodded. "Yeah," Ethan said.
"I'm coming. " 60 motorcycles rolled through the streets of Oakland in a tight formation, their engines roaring in unison. People stopped on the sidewalks to stare. Cars pulled over to let them pass. It was a show of force, a reminder that some communities still operated by old rules. Rules that had nothing to do with courts or lawyers.
Ethan rode behind his father, his arms wrapped around Vincent's waist, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. He had never seen the club like this altogether moving with a single purpose. It was intimidating and all inspiring in equal measure. They arrived at Elite Strike Martial Arts just after 9:00 in the morning. The gym didn't open until 10:00, but Derek's car was already in the parking lot.
The motorcycles pulled in, filling every available space, their engines cutting off one by one until the only sound was the faint hum of traffic from the nearby highway. Vincent dismounted and walked toward the front door. Marcus and four other men followed. Ethan stayed close to his father, his stomach twisting with nerves. Vincent tried the door.
It was locked. He knocked three sharp wraps that echoed through the empty parking lot. A moment later, Derek appeared on the other side of the glass. His face went pale when he saw the crowd of bikers standing outside his gym. He hesitated, his hand on the lock, clearly debating whether to open the door or call the police.
Vincent knocked again harder this time. Derek unlocked the door and opened it a crack. "What do you want? " We need to talk, Vincent said, his voice calm. I don't have anything to say to you. Then you can listen, Marcus said, stepping forward.
His voice was like gravel, rough and unyielding. You disrespected one of our brothers last night. You called us cowards. That's a problem, Derek's face flushed. I was just making a joke.
I didn't mean you meant it, Vincent interrupted. And then you tried to hurt my son. That's two problems. He challenged me. He's 14, Vincent said.
And you're a grown man with a thirdderee black belt. You should have walked away. Derek looked past Vincent at the crowd of bikers, his fear now obvious. Look, I'm sorry. Okay.
I didn't know he was your kid. I didn't know. You didn't know because you didn't ask, Marcus said. You just assumed. You assumed we were cowards because we ride motorcycles.
You assumed we were weak because we don't wear G's and bow to each other. You assumed wrong. Derek swallowed hard. What do you want from me? Vincent stepped closer.
I want you to understand something. My son kept his promise for 8 years. He never used what I taught him. Not once until you pushed him. And when he did use it, he used it to defend me.
That's honor. That's discipline. That's everything you claim to teach in this gym. Derek didn't respond. You're going to leave him alone, Vincent continued.
You're going to leave me alone. And if I hear that you've been talking about us, if I hear that you've been spreading rumors or trying to get revenge, then we're going to have another conversation. And next time there won't be 60 of us. There'll be 200. Do you understand?
Derek nodded, his face pale. Say it, Marcus growled. I understand, Derek said, his voice barely above a whisper. Vincent turned and walked back toward his motorcycle. The other bikers followed, their boots crunching on the asphalt.
Ethan glanced back at Derek, who stood in the doorway of his gym, looking small and defeated. As they mounted their bikes, Ben, the 19-year-old student, appeared at the edge of the parking lot. He had been watching from across the street, his eyes wide. He walked over to Vincent, his expression uncertain. Sir, Ben said, "Can I ask you something? " Vincent looked at him.
"Go ahead. Last night when Ethan struck Derek, that wasn't just luck, was it? That was real training. " "Yeah," Vincent said. It was Where did you learn it? Vincent was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, "I learned it in places where mistakes get you killed. I learned it from men who understood that fighting isn't about trophies or belts. It's about survival. And I taught it to my son because I wanted him to be able to protect himself and the people he loves. Ben nodded slowly.
Could you teach me? Vincent studied him. Why? Because what I saw last night was real, Ben said. Everything I've been learning in there feels fake now.
I want to learn something that matters. Vincent glanced at Marcus, who shrugged. Then he looked back at Ben. You willing to work hard? No shortcuts, no ego.