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No trust funds. No investors. Just grit. Hustle. And a vision.

"You double check those trainer applications from the email blast?" I asked Riq, who was now balancing himself one-legged on a Bosu ball like a toddler with too much energy.

"Yeah," he said. "Couple of solid ones. One girl certified in boxing and strength training. Another dude with a background in high-performance athletics. I say we bring 'em in for trial sessions."

"Cool," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. "Need that front desk hire locked in too."

"Already working on it," Sticks called from the other side of the gym. "Sent the top three to your inbox this morning."

I grunted, appreciative.

It was coming together. Slowly, sure. But damn if it wasn't real. I could feel it every time I looked around. The squat racks we'd installed ourselves. The scuff marks from moving treadmills that damn near killed us. The logo on the wall that the guys and I had sketched out on a napkin years ago, back when the dream still felt like fantasy. Now it lived on a thirty-foot accent wall above our custom mat flooring.

I looked around and tried to picture my younger self standing here. Eighteen-year-old me, angry and lost and drowning. The kid who felt like life had already closed every door before he ever had a chance to knock. The one who watched his big brother get sentenced and his mama fade into nothing before his very eyes. The one who stood at the edge of everything and chose the Marines because it was the only way he knew how to survive.

If I told that boy this would be his future—a gym of his own, a shot at building something better for his people, a circle of brothers who had his back, a best friend who still showed up for him after all this time—he wouldn't have believed me.

Hell, I barely believed it now.

But I was here.

And I was becoming the man I used to pray I'd grow into. Still rough around the edges. Still got a long way to go. But closer. Stronger.

And maybe—just maybe—worthy of all the good that was finally starting to find its way back to me.

I'd watched the full version of the video I'd taken of them at least five times. Each time I caught a new laugh, a new inside joke we shared, a new glimpse of her being free. That spark in her eyes was back—the one Gavin had been slowly dimming for years. I didn't even realize how much I'd missed it until I saw it again.

And that grown woman body was doing things to me I was too respectful to say out loud. Those fluffy ass pajama shorts from Sister Sunday had no business fitting like that. It had taken everything in me not to respond with something reckless. The kind of text that would've opened a door I wasn't sure either of us was ready to walk through.

* * *

Maleek

Eight Years Ago

Cap said basic training would be hard.

He didn't mention that leaving would be harder.

Angelica had always been dramatic, but the way she stalled outside the airport felt more like desperation than flair. She was fighting for more time. I could feel it in every breath she took, every look she gave me like I might vanish if she blinked too long.

"You know she's gonna try to tow your shit if you don't get out there soon," I said, nodding toward the drop-off lane.

"Wondercop Karen ain't towing nothing, 'cause I'm not parked," she said, arms crossed, attitude full throttle. "Tina's just gonna keep looping around until I'm ready to go, and Bella's ready to go full-blown gremlin on anyone who takes their job too seriously. We're fine."

I stole a glance through the revolving doors. Sure enough, that security guard with the power complex was back at the window, waving her hands like she had somewhere important to be. Tina didn't flinch. She just rolled forward with a slow middle finger in the air, Bella making faces through the backseat window like a petty-ass cartoon villain.

I snorted. "They're gonna get arrested."

"They're gonna get us ten more minutes," she said, turning back to me, voice quieter now. "And I'm not wasting them."

I needed to go. I knew that. But standing here, looking at her—eyes full of fire and hurt and love—I couldn't remember why I ever thought I could do this without her.

"Honestly," I said, trying to keep my tone light, "I think I got it from here, Angel."

Her face twitched, like her blood had turned to ice in her veins. Just for a second.

Then she covered it with a smirk. "You know how to check your bags?"