Damon kept working the bag, the rhythm steady, jab, cross, slip, hook, but every few exchanges, his instinct twitched. His right hip rotated too far, his knee almost lifted for a kick. Other times, his elbow wanted to follow through the punch. Years of MMA muscle memory bleeding into something that no longer allowed it.
He caught himself again, shaking his head with a frustrated chuckle. "Seems I have to get used to this."
"You're goddamn right."
The deep voice came from behind him. Damon turned, startled, towel in hand, and froze. Standing beside Victor was none other than Iron Tyron, one of the greatest boxers of all time.
For a moment, Damon just stared. The legend himself, multiple-division champion, technical genius, power in both hands, right here in his gym.
Victor smirked, clearly enjoying Damon's reaction. "Told you I'd get someone who could teach you how to box, not just punch."
