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Before they could add anything else, a voice from another table called out to Claire. she turned toward the sound, raising a hand to signal she was coming, then gave them a warm smile.
"I'm glad you came today. Hope to see you again, guys."
With a light touch on Nate's arm and a smile at Alice, she walked away with a quick step.
Nate and Alice remained in silence for a few seconds, staring at the empty cup in front of them, before standing up. They paid at the counter, saying a final goodbye with one last glance at Claire, who was already leaning over another table, listening intently to a customer speaking to her with enthusiasm.
They left the diner at a calm pace as they walked back to the car.
Once inside, they remained silent, watching through the windshield as people came and went from the place.
Alice broke the silence, turning slightly toward Nate.
"Seemed like your dad was trying to recruit her."
Nate rested his hands on the steering wheel, eyes fixed forward, before nodding slowly.
"Yeah. And the 'job' description was really vague. Everything he said sounded too general, like he was avoiding giving her details."
He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling, turning his gaze to her.
"We should talk to someone else from the logbook. We need to make sure this wasn't an isolated case."
Alice pulled the notebook from Nate's backpack, opening it on her lap as she flipped through the pages carefully, her golden eyes scanning each page quickly.
"Let's see… here are a couple of options. A 'suspicious' nurse in Arlington, and a 'cautious' cashier working at a 24-hour store."
Nate reached out, flipping through the pages with her until his fingers stopped on a specific entry. He tapped the name lightly with two fingers, a soft thud sounding against the paper.
"No," he said, a determined glint in his eyes. "I want to try someone more direct."
Alice tilted her head slightly, reading the name aloud softly.
"Sergei Ivanov."
Nate nodded, his gaze fixed on the notes in the margin.
"Aggressive. Direct. With an incredible fighting instinct," he read softly, almost to himself. "Works at a gym about twenty minutes from here."
Alice closed the notebook gently, keeping it on her lap as she looked at him calmly.
"Are you sure you want the next person to be someone with 'aggressive tendencies'?"
Nate started the engine, his expression calm but with a firmness that Alice was finding increasingly familiar.
"Yes. I want to see another side of this story, Alice. If my father was really looking for something with these people, I need to understand what he saw in each of them."
He turned the wheel, merging into traffic while Alice leaned back in her seat, the notebook resting in her lap.
"All right," she murmured as she looked out the window. "Let's see how direct Sergei Ivanov really is."
The hum of the engine filled the air as the car rolled through the streets of D.C., the scent of coffee still clinging to their clothes, and the notebook, now heavier than ever, resting in Alice's hands.
.............................................
According to the logbook, Sergei started work later, so they killed some time walking around the streets of D.C. They went into a couple of stores hand in hand, enjoying those quiet moments before talking to Sergei.
When the time came, they headed to the gym. Nate glanced at Alice as he parked.
"If you'd rather wait in the car, that's fine."
Alice turned her head, her short hair brushing her cheek as she raised an eyebrow.
"No. I'm coming with you."
Nate gave a small smile before stepping out of the car.
As they entered, the first things they noticed were the smells of sweat, metal, and rubber flooring. The place felt old-school: free weights, hanging heavy bags, a ring in the center, and large windows that let anyone passing by see people training inside, as if the place fed off that attention.
Several people were working out, lifting weights or hitting the bags with sharp punches that echoed through the air. An old radio in the corner played low music, while heavy breathing and the constant thudding filled the room.
Nate kept his focus, walking directly toward the reception desk, where a burly man in a sweat-stained tank top was flipping through a notebook while chewing gum.
"What d'you need?" he asked without looking up.
"I'm looking for Sergei Ivanov."
The man raised his head with a frown, looking Nate up and down, then glanced at Alice, who stood calmly behind him.
"You here to collect a debt or something?" he asked, annoyed.
Nate shook his head, keeping his tone calm.
"No. I just want to talk to him."
The man clicked his tongue before letting out a short, humorless laugh.
"Today's not the best day, kid. Sergei's in a bad mood, and trust me, you don't want to deal with him when he's like that."
Nate held his ground, not stepping back.
"I still need to talk to him."
The man huffed, raising a hand in mock surrender.
"Your call, kid." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the ring in the middle of the gym.
Nate and Alice followed the direction of his hand, finding a tall, muscular man with short blond hair, his torso covered in tattoos that stretched as he threw punch after punch. He was beating another man in the ring, each strike landing with a dull thud that cut through the air.
The guy in the ring could barely defend himself while Sergei moved with surprising speed for his size, his breathing controlled, his pale eyes locked onto his opponent with an almost animalistic intensity.
Alice leaned slightly toward Nate, whispering softly, a spark of caution in her golden eyes.
"Well… he definitely looks like someone with a 'fighting instinct.'"
Nate swallowed, his blue eyes locked on Sergei as he analyzed every movement, every punch, every breath.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice firm as his hands tightened into fists with determination. "Now let's see how we get him to talk to us."
Sergei ended the fight with a brutal right hook that cracked through the air. The man he was facing collapsed heavily onto the mat, unconscious, as a couple of assistants climbed into the ring to drag him out. Sergei didn't even look at them, breathing calmly as he wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm, his pale, cold eyes scanning the gym like a satisfied predator.
Nate seized the moment and approached the edge of the ring, speaking in a firm tone that rose above the murmurs of punches and the shouts of encouragement from others training.
"I want to talk to you."
Sergei turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto Nate with a flash of disdain in his eyes. He looked him up and down before spitting to the side.
"Get lost, kid. I don't waste my time with punks."
Nate's jaw tightened, feeling frustration rising in his throat. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm before saying:
"Did you talk to my father, Richard Winter?"
For a moment, something seemed to flicker in Sergei's gaze. He looked Nate over again, more carefully this time, before tilting his head with a crooked smile.
"That pushy idiot who looks like you? He said a bunch of crap before I kicked him out of here."
Nate felt anger burning in his chest, but forced himself to keep his composure as he analyzed Sergei: how he stood, how his shoulders remained relaxed yet ready, how his eyes evaluated him with the calm of a lion sizing up a rival before striking.
With a sigh, Nate tried to calm himself before insisting:
"What exactly did my father say to you?"
Sergei let out a short laugh before spitting to the side again.
"I got nothing to say to a loser… unless you've got the guts to step into the ring with me."
Nate narrowed his eyes, holding Sergei's gaze as he replied:
"I don't see why that's necessary."
Sergei's laughter boomed in the ring, dripping with mockery.
"Doesn't surprise me, coming from the son of a scrawny loser like your old man."
The insult cut through Nate like a whip. He clenched his fists, feeling the heat of anger rising in his face before letting out a snort.
"Fine," he muttered in a low voice, glancing to the side as he grabbed a pair of gloves resting near the ring. "You asked for it."
As he put on the gloves, Alice quickly stepped closer, her gaze fixed on him with a worried glint in her golden eyes.
"Are you sure? I know you're good at fighting, but that guy looks strong… even the logbook says he's got a brutal fighting instinct."
Nate gave her a small smile, a spark of excitement mixed with determination in his eyes.
"I know," he said, tightening the straps on the gloves as he lifted his gaze toward Sergei, who was watching him with that predatory half-smile. "But he won't talk until I entertain him a bit."
Alice frowned before letting out a resigned sigh, crossing her arms as she stepped back, her eyes never leaving him.
Nate stepped into the ring with a single thought in his mind:
Let's see what my father was looking for here.
He felt the slight creak of the mat under his boots as he adjusted his gloves. One of the assistants raised a hand, giving the signal, and the match began.
Nate took his time, raising his guard calmly as he watched Sergei, trying to sense exactly what his father had seen in him.
Sergei didn't wait. He lunged forward with fury, almost like an animal, letting out a guttural roar as he unleashed a flurry of punches that sliced through the air with violence. Nate responded with precise dodges and blocks, stepping back slightly, measuring every move as he analyzed his opponent's rhythm.
The fight continued with Sergei throwing heavy, brute-force punches. Nate, however, didn't throw a single punch, staying on defense as he tried to read him, to decipher the essence of his fighting style.
It didn't take long for Nate to realize Sergei was physically stronger than he was. Every blocked punch rattled his arms, and every step Sergei took echoed with crushing weight.
At one point, Sergei paused, a mocking smile on his split lips.
"What's wrong, kid?" he spat, cracking his neck. "Too scared to throw a punch? Even your girlfriend's bored of watching you act like a coward."
Nate frowned and, unable to help himself, glanced at Alice.
She was about to storm out the door, but froze when she heard Sergei's words. She let out an exasperated sigh before crossing her arms, looking around with frustration before locking her eyes on the ring.
Confused, Nate looked away for a moment, scanning around. That was when, through one of the gym's large windows, he spotted the silhouette of a man dressed in black, standing on a nearby rooftop, silently watching.
He squinted, trying to get a better look, but that second of distraction was all it took.
Crack!
Sergei's fist crashed into his ribs with the precision of a hammer, knocking the air from Nate's lungs. He doubled over slightly, a burning pain clouding his vision, instantly reminding him of the blow he'd taken in the same spot during his encounter with James.
The pain forced him back, and in that instant of clarity, he realized something that made his jaw tighten:
Sergei knew exactly where to hit.
He remembered how, throughout the fight, Sergei seemed to attack the exact spots where Nate's guard was weakest or the sensitive areas he'd neglected in previous fights. His "ability" wasn't just brute force but an almost animal instinct to find weak points and exploit them without mercy.
Critical hits. That was his skill.
Nate took a deep breath, straightening up as he pressed a hand against his aching ribs. His pulse pounded in his ears as he lifted his gaze toward Sergei, who was smiling with a twisted grin, his breathing steady.
"Ready to give up, little boy?" Sergei taunted.
Nate exhaled, letting calm return to his mind as he lowered his guard slightly, letting Sergei think he was weakened. But this time, Nate began analyzing Sergei's breathing, every weight shift, every instant his shoulders tensed before throwing a punch.
The Russian lunged again with fury, but Nate had seen the pattern.
When Sergei raised his right fist for a hook, Nate slipped to his left, deflecting the punch with his forearm before landing a quick jab to Sergei's jaw, making him stumble back a step.
Another attempt, another dodge. This time, Nate ducked, throwing a short hook to Sergei's side, a measured, precise punch aimed at a point that opened for just a second.
Punch after punch, Nate began to control the fight's rhythm. Every strike landed at the exact moment Sergei dropped his guard, each impact sounding with a dull thud that echoed through the gym, where some people had stopped to watch.
Sergei, surprised, began to lose his composure. His breathing grew heavier, his movements less precise as he tried to respond with the same aggression as before, but Nate had already read his fight.
Finally, after a quick exchange, Nate dodged a punch from Sergei and saw his opening: the Russian's guard lifted as he tried to protect his torso, leaving his chin exposed.
Nate rotated his hips and launched a clean right hook, straight to the chin.
Crack!
The punch echoed in the ring as Sergei's head snapped violently to the side. His eyes went blank for a moment before his entire body collapsed backward, hitting the mat with a heavy thud.
Sergei lay there, gasping, dazed, his eyes unfocused as he tried and failed to get up.
Nate, his chest rising and falling with exertion, looked at him with a mix of exhaustion and determination as he slowly removed his gloves.
Now Sergei would have to talk.
Nate gave Sergei a few minutes to catch his breath. From the mat, he watched as some of the gym members, still shocked by the fight's outcome, climbed into the ring to help Sergei sit up.
Nate calmly removed his gloves, looking at Alice, who had stepped a bit closer to the ring with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp.
"What is it?" Nate asked from above.
Alice, her expression serious and a slight glint of irritation in her golden eyes, replied quietly:
"I smelled something. I'll tell you when we leave."
Nate nodded, understanding, turning back to Sergei.
The Russian, now leaning against a corner of the ring, chest heaving as he caught his breath, kept his head lowered, letting sweat drip to the floor. The men who had helped him up stepped back, exchanging glances with Nate before leaving the ring, giving them space.
Sergei slowly lifted his gaze, his pale eyes meeting Nate's. Instead of anger, a fierce smile appeared on his face, revealing a broken tooth as he wiped his jaw.
"No one's ever beaten me like that," he said with a ragged laugh, a mix of respect and adrenaline in his voice. "And with such ease, too. You should join the gym, kid. No one here can fight like that."
Nate lowered his guard, breathing steadily as he shook out the tension in his knuckles.
"I'm just passing through," he replied honestly. "But I need to know what my father told you."
Sergei sighed, letting his broad shoulders relax, his expression now much calmer, almost reflective.
"Your dad… Richard, right?" Sergei adjusted himself, tilting his head a bit as he searched for the words. "I remember him well. His scrawny frame stuck out around here, in the middle of all this muscle. He came by many times, too persistent, if you ask me."
He scratched at the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.
"At first, every time he approached me, I'd tell him to get lost. I didn't have time to listen to a guy like him. But one day… I don't know, I got tired of him coming back and decided to hear him out."
Sergei's eyes drifted for a moment, as if seeing a distant memory.
"He was a smart guy, I'll give him that. He told me he'd seen me fight, said it was clear I didn't have a real challenge. If I wanted to feel a real fight, one that would make my heart race like never before, he could show me real opponents. The only condition was that I had to leave the city and abandon everything here."
His voice dropped, tinged with nostalgia.
"He said it would all be worth it for someone like me, who lived to fight."
He paused before giving a bitter smile.
"And you know what, kid… I was tempted. I haven't felt a good fight in years. I live for this. But…"
His gaze softened as he looked down at the floor.
"A few years ago, I met a woman. Now I've got a daughter. I love fighting… but I love them more."
Sergei let out a short laugh.
"I told your old man that. I appreciated the offer, but I couldn't leave my family behind for a fight. He just stood there, looking frustrated, and… he never came back."
Nate stayed quiet, taking in every word, piecing together everything he had learned.
Finally, he took a deep breath and extended a hand to Sergei.
"Thanks for telling me this."
Sergei looked at him before letting out another rough laugh, shaking Nate's hand firmly.
"Before you leave this city, come fight me again, Winter. I want to see if I can return that punch."
Nate gave a small smile.
"I'll think about it."
With that, he stepped down from the ring, feeling the firm floor beneath his boots as he walked over to Alice, who watched him with her arms crossed and a flicker of restrained frustration in her eyes.