asphalt, a lucky trip.

He needed to prove it. He needed to find the trucker, corner him, and

beat him into the dirt where there were no slippery puddles and no

chance for a lucky escape. Damien’s older brother, Greg, worked as a

dispatcher for a regional freight logistics company based out of

Midland. It took Damien exactly 24 hours of leaning on his brother and

calling in favors to run the plates of the Peterbilt, which Leon had

managed to memorize, and track down the driver’s manifest. “His name is

Dominic Hayes,” Greg told Damien over the phone, sounding uneasy.

“He’s an independent owner-operator. He’s got a drop-off scheduled at a

steel yard in Lubbock late Thursday night.” “Why do you need this, D?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Damien hung up. By midnight on Thursday, Damien,

Leon, and Brad were sitting in Damien’s lifted black Ford Raptor, parked

with its lights off in the shadows of the deserted industrial sector of

Lubbock. The steel yard was a massive fenced-in compound surrounded by

abandoned warehouses and empty lots. There were no streetlights here, no

cameras, no witnesses.

I don’t know about this man, Brad said from the backseat, staring

nervously at the imposing gates of the steel yard. That guy there was

something wrong with him. He didn’t fight like a civilian. He’s a

nobody, Damian snapped, his knuckles turning white on the steering

wheel. He got lucky.

Tonight we show him what happens when he steps into my world. He doesn’t

leave this lot walking. At 1:15 a.m., the deep guttural rumble of a

diesel engine broke the silence. The bright LED headlights of Dominic’s

Peterbilt swept across the cracked pavement as the massive rig made a

wide turn toward the steel yard’s loading gates. Damian threw the Raptor

into gear.

He slammed the gas pedal, the truck roaring to life and shot out of the

shadows. He positioned the Raptor directly in front of the locked steel

yard gates, aggressively cutting off the Peterbilt and forcing Dominic

to slam on his air brakes. The massive semi hissed to a halt, nose to

nose with the pickup. Damian kicked his door open and stepped out into

the cold night air. Leon and Brad followed, grabbing heavy aluminum

flashlights from the center console.

Inside the cab of his truck, Dominic Hayes sat perfectly still. He

looked down at the three men illuminated by his headlights. He

recognized the arrogant kid from the diner, his arm still moving a

little stiffly. Dominic let out a long, heavy sigh. He reached over and

turned off the engine.

When Dominic stepped down from the cab, the atmosphere in the loading

dock shifted. This wasn’t a rainy diner parking lot. This was a dark,

isolated arena. Dominic’s demeanor had completely changed. In Odessa, he

had been a man trying to avoid a conflict.

Tonight, assessing the vehicle block, the numbers and the weapons in

their hands, Commander Hayes realized avoidance was no longer a tactical

option. These men had hunted him. They intended to do severe bodily

harm. The civilian switch in Dominic’s brain clicked to the off

position. The operator awoke.

“Three on one.” Damien yelled, his voice echoing off the corrugated

metal walls of the warehouses. “Nowhere to run, old man. No slick

puddles to hide behind. You humiliated me. Now I’m going to break your

jaw.” Dominic didn’t speak.

He walked slowly toward the front of his rig, stopping directly in the

glare of his own headlights. He lowered his center of gravity slightly.

His hands rested loosely at his sides. Brad was the first to make a

mistake. Eager to impress Damien, he lunged forward swinging the heavy

aluminum flashlight at Dominic’s head like a baseball bat.

In professional fighting, you block and counter. In warfare, you

eliminate the threat. Dominic burst forward with a speed that defied his

age. He didn’t back away from the swinging weapon. He stepped directly

into the attack.

He jammed his left forearm into Brad’s bicep, stopping the swing dead in

its tracks, while simultaneously driving the heel of his right hand

upward in a devastating palm strike directly under Brad’s chin. The

impact sounded like a cracking branch. The concussive force snapped

Brad’s head back violently, rattling his brain stem. Brad’s eyes rolled

back into his head, and he crumpled to the concrete like a puppet with

its strings cut, entirely unconscious before he hit the ground. The

flashlight clattered uselessly away.

Total elapsed time, 2 seconds. Leon froze, his flashlight trembling in

his hand. The swagger drained from his body instantly. He looked at

Brad, out cold, and then at Dominic, who hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Leon took two steps backward, dropping his weapon.

“I’m out. I’m out, man. I don’t want this.” “Coward!” Damien screamed,

his rage blinding him to the reality of what he had just witnessed.

Damien charged. He abandoned his technique, throwing a wild, ferocious

overhand right fueled by pure adrenaline and hatred.

Dominic didn’t dodge. He executed a brutal close-quarters defense taught

exclusively to elite military operators. He stepped slightly off line

and aggressively drove his lead elbow directly into the path of Damien’s

incoming fist. Damien’s knuckles smashed into the solid bone of

Dominic’s elbow. A sickening crack echoed through the lot.

Damien shrieked in agony as two metacarpal bones in his right hand

shattered upon impact. But Dominic didn’t stop. He was actively

neutralizing the threat. As Damien recoiled, cradling his broken hand,

Dominic grabbed the back of Damien’s thick neck with his left hand,

pulling him downward. Dominic drove his right knee upward with

piston-like force, burying it deep into Damien’s solar plexus.

All the air evacuated Damien’s lungs in a violent rush. He gagged, his

eyes bulging, his legs turning to jelly. Dominic maintained his grip on

Damien’s neck, forcing the larger, younger man down onto his knees.

Dominic stood over him, his breathing steady, his face an emotionless

mask of cold, hard steel. “You hunted a man you didn’t know,” Dominic

said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with a terrifying,

absolute authority.

“You cornered me in the dark. That was a tactical error.” Before Damien

could process the pain or the terror, the piercing wail of sirens

shattered the night. Red and blue strobe lights painted the brick walls

of the alleyway as three Lubbock Police Department cruisers came

screeching around the corner, boxing in the Raptor and the Peterbilt.

Tires smoked as the officers jumped out, weapons drawn. “Hands in the

air!

Everybody freeze.” a voice commanded over a PA system. Damian, gasping