"Come on." She looked at him. Move. He leaned closer. His voice dropped so only Maya and the nearest few could hear.
"Come on, black belt." Everything inside Maya went still. Not calm. Still, she looked directly at him. Schler smiled.
Show them what you really are. There it was. Proof. Not legal proof. Not yet, but certainty.
He knew this had never been random. Every insult, every complaint, every careful escalation. Tai had been building toward this exact moment. Maya straightened. Take a step back.
He didn't. Instead, he reached for the strap of her gym bag. His hand closed around it. The zipper tore. Small sound.
Metal against canvas. The bag fell open. A towel slid out. Athletic tape. A water bottle.
Then the black and gold tag dropped into the dirty runoff. Brooks National Open. Walter saw it. So did Ma. Eer glanced down and laughed.
What is that supposed to be? Maya bent quickly and picked it up. Tyler grabbed her wrist. The crowd made one sound, a collective intake of breath. Maya froze, not from fear, from decision.
She looked at his hand around her wrist, then at his face. Let go. He tightened his grip. Or what? Maya's voice stayed low.
Let go. He leaned closer. You're supposed to be dangerous. That was the last invitation. Maya moved.
Her right foot planted. Her hips turned. Her forearm rotated against his grip. She didn't yank, didn't strike, didn't swing. She simply changed the angle.
Tyler's hold disappeared. His balance went with it. Maya guided his wrist downward and stepped outside his line. For one stunn, Tyler found himself on one knee. No punch, no kick, no impact, just control.
The courtyard went completely silent. Maya released him immediately. Stepped back, hands open. Walk away. Eer's face burned red.
He stood too fast. The laughter was gone now. So was the confidence. People were watching him differently. That made him reckless.