Old Wounds

Jayce returns to the gym the next morning, his body sore but his focus razor-sharp. The place is quiet, just the dull thuds of bags being punched and the occasional grunt of effort. As he starts his warm-up, the door slams open.

Trey Vex walks in, flanked by two tough-looking men. He hasn’t changed much—same scar under the eye, same swagger, same grudge in his eyes. The gym seems to pause for a beat.

“Jayce Carter,” Trey sneers. “Didn’t think I’d see your face again, not after what you pulled.”

Jayce doesn’t flinch. “You mean surviving?”

“You mean running,” Trey growls. “You left us behind. You let the Serpents burn our crew to the ground. You chose yourself.”

Jayce’s hands clench into fists. The memory stings—his old gang, the street war, the fire, the betrayal. But he also remembers the chaos, the moment he chose to save his mother instead of staying to fight a doomed war.

“I did what I had to do,” Jayce says quietly.

“Yeah?” Trey spits on the mat. “Then I’ll do what I have to.”

A fight nearly breaks out then and there, but the gym owner steps in. “You want to settle this, do it in the ring. Not here.”

Trey grins. “Fine. Next qualifier. You and me. Let’s see if that Iron Flame still burns.”

Jayce watches him leave, anger boiling in his chest. But deep down, he knows this fight isn’t just about proving Trey wrong. It’s about facing his past. And if he wants to be king, he has to confront every ghost that tries to drag him down.

The rest of the day, Jayce trains with fury. He pushes past his pain, his knuckles splitting against the heavy bag. Each punch echoes with years of silence, resentment, and guilt. His coach watches from a distance, saying nothing, just nodding in approval.

Later, Jayce visits the old neighborhood where it all went wrong. Burnt walls, crumbling bricks, and silence where there once was noise. He stops at the alley where the final battle happened, memories hitting like cold rain. A torn bandana still hangs from a fire escape above.

A young man steps out of the shadows—it’s Malik, Trey’s younger cousin. “They say you’re back,” he says, eyes wary. “You really think the streets will forget what happened?”

“I don’t expect them to,” Jayce replies. “But I’ll earn their respect back.”

Malik nods once, then fades into the alley. Jayce stands alone again—but not defeated.

Back at the gym, he finishes his final set and wraps his bruised hands with fresh tape. The next qualifier is just days away. Trey will be there, waiting.

But Jayce won’t just be fighting for pride.

He’ll be fighting for redemption.

That night, as he lies in bed staring at the cracked ceiling, old memories flicker behind his eyes. He remembers running with Trey and the crew, their loyalty forged in broken glass and blood. He remembers the last time he saw Trey before it all fell apart—a burning warehouse, Trey screaming, and Jayce vanishing into smoke.

He never explained. He never got the chance. Maybe he didn’t want to face the truth—that he wasn’t ready to die for a street that gave him nothing but scars.

Now, he had something to live for. And something to prove.

He gets up before dawn, hitting the road for his usual run. Every footfall is a vow. Every breath a promise.

“I’m not running this time,” he mutters. “I’m coming back.”

And this time, he means to stay.

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