Nadia’s stomach tightened.
“Could I work with someone else?”
Rebecca frowned.
“Why?”
Nadia looked down.
“He’s not very patient with me.”
Rebecca sighed.
“Victor can be difficult, but he knows what he’s doing.”
Nadia said nothing.
Rebecca softened.
“I’ll be watching the entire time.”
Nadia wanted to believe that would be enough.
So she agreed.
The following Saturday, more than a hundred people crowded around the main training mat.
Victor entered to applause.
He wore a black rash guard, dark shorts, and the relaxed smile of a man who believed every room belonged to him.
Nadia stood near the edge of the mat, wearing a plain white training shirt.
Her hands were cold.
Rebecca gave her an encouraging nod.
“Just follow the instructions.”
Nadia stepped forward.
Victor looked at her.
Then toward the audience.
“Today we’re going to demonstrate what happens when an inexperienced fighter faces someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
A few spectators laughed.
Nadia forced a smile.
Victor circled her.
“What’s your name again?”
“Nadia.”
“Right. The scholarship girl.”
Her cheeks warmed.
Victor grinned.
“Don’t worry. We’ll try not to break anything.”
More laughter.
Nadia glanced toward Rebecca.
The coach was standing beside the referee.
She gave a small reassuring nod.
Victor positioned himself behind Nadia.
He explained the mechanics of a rear choke.
At first, the demonstration was controlled.
He showed the audience how positioning could restrict an opponent’s movement.
Then he asked Nadia to attempt an escape.
She tried.
He stopped her.
“Come on,” he said. “Use what you learned.”
She tried again.
Victor adjusted his position.
“Not very impressive.”
Nadia swallowed.
“Could we reset?”
Victor smiled.
“Already giving up?”
“I’m having trouble breathing.”
“That’s the point.”
He tightened the hold.
Nadia tapped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The referee immediately stepped forward.
“Release!”
Victor didn’t move.
Nadia tapped again.
Harder.
Victor leaned closer.
And whispered five words that would later be repeated across the entire town.
“Too late to tap now.”
Nadia’s eyes widened.
She tried to pull his arm away.
Her heels scraped against the mat.
The referee grabbed Victor’s shoulder.
“VICTOR! LET GO!”
But Victor tightened his grip.
The audience began shouting.
A woman screamed.
Several people lowered their phones.
And near the equipment door, an older man set down his paper cup.
“Let her go.”
His voice was calm.
But something about it cut through the chaos.
Victor glanced toward him.
The man appeared to be around sixty, with silver hair at his temples, a weathered face, and broad shoulders beneath an old dark green shirt.
He wore faded trousers and dusty work boots.
He looked like someone who had wandered in from a repair shop.
“Stay out of it, old man,” Victor snapped.
The stranger stepped closer.
“Release her.”
Victor laughed.
“I’m teaching.”
“She’s tapped.”
“So?”
The older man’s expression changed.
Not into anger.
Into something more serious.
“I won’t ask again.”
Victor looked directly at him.
Then smiled.
“Make me.”
The stranger didn’t hesitate.
He moved toward the mat.
But before he reached Victor, Rebecca and the referee forced their way between them.
“LET HER GO!” Rebecca shouted.
Victor finally released.
Nadia collapsed onto her side, coughing violently.
The stranger knelt beside her.
“Can you hear me?”
She nodded weakly.
“Stay still for a moment. Help is coming.”
He looked toward Rebecca.
“Call emergency services.”
Rebecca immediately reached for her phone.
Victor stood and adjusted his training shirt.
“Oh, come on. She’s fine.”
The stranger looked up.
“She was struggling to breathe.”
Victor rolled his eyes.
