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"𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 you're just tired," Stella said softly, holding the sheets over her bare body.

After getting off work, and after Johnny finished training for the day, he had driven out to Sherman Oaks to spend the rest of the afternoon with her. What was meant to be a steamy reunion turned unexpectedly awkward.

"Stella, I swear, this has never, ever happened to me," Johnny said

"You know... working at the hospital, I do have access to certain... medications. I could have Dr. Halstead write you a prescription. I know he won't mind—" Stella suggested, her hand caressing his arm.

Johnny pulled back, bristling. "What? I don't need pills. I'm 100% all man."

"Okay, then what is it?" she pressed, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Something's going on, and don't give me that 'nothing' bullshit. Please... tell me."

Johnny sighed. "I can't get LaRusso and August out of my head."

"Come again?" Stella propped herself up on her elbow, searching his face.

"They're always together. Working out. Fixing your grandma's car."

"Yes, but August spending all that time over there has given us a chance to spend more time together," she reminded him gently.

"Did you know LaRusso showed August Top Gun?" Johnny grumbled.

Stella rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Our dad loves that movie. He used to make us sit and watch it with him. I don't know why Mr. LaRusso thought August needed to see it, though. But... I'll admit it, Tom Cruise was handsome. Next to Zac Efron, he was my first celebrity crush."

"Cruise is the worst in that. Here you got the real deal, Iceman, best of the best, abs for days. In comes this new guy, total dweeb, calls himself a maverick. You can't call yourself a maverick. Guy didn't even earn a spot at Miramar. Got his wingman killed too. Not cool." Johnny said

Stella chuckled and laid her head back on the pillow. "Okay, so this isn't about Top Gun, or Tom Cruise. This is about my brother. Maybe it's time we tell him—and even my father—about us. They're going to find out sooner or later."

Johnny's jaw tightened. He looked away, his voice lower, edged with honesty. "I don't know. If we're gonna tell your dad... I think I need to buy a bulletproof vest."

"I feel guilty about sneaking around," Stella admitted, her voice soft, vulnerable. "Worst of all, I hate asking my grandma to keep this secret. It's not fair to her. And it's not fair to us. Secrets... they weigh you down."

Johnny sighed, the walls around his heart shifting for her. "Kids can be weird about that kind of stuff."

"How about this," Stella whispered, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone. "You can tell him whenever you're ready. But I know it'll make you feel better. You know, last night, there was more I wanted to say, but I didn't get the chance."

Johnny caught her hand, holding it against his face. "What is it?"

Her eyes shimmered in the low light. "When I first moved here, I was still broken. Losing my mom... it felt like this hole in me would never close. But then you came along. Not pushing me to be okay, not pretending everything was fine. You were just there. And somehow, just by being you... you made the loss a little easier to bear. You gave me a real friend. Sure, I've got the girls, but you—" her voice wavered, "you understood me."

Her gaze drifted, and tears welled in her eyes. "When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares. Instead of buying me a dreamcatcher, Mama would light a candle and tell me it would burn the bad dreams away. Then she'd put a cool cloth on my forehead and sit with me until I fell asleep. She'd whisper that the angels were watching over me." Stella's breath caught as the memory washed over her. "And now I can't help but ask... what kind of angel lets a gentle mother die like that?"

Johnny's throat tightened. He wasn't good with words about heaven or angels, but he couldn't stand seeing her in that kind of pain. He brushed her tears with his thumb, his voice rough but steady. "I don't know how any of that works, Stella. But I know this—if there are angels, your mom's one of 'em. And if she could see you right now, she'd be proud as hell of the woman you've become."

Her tears slipped freely now, but she didn't hide them. She pressed her forehead to his, her voice trembling. "It still hurts that she's not here to meet you. But I know she would have loved you, Johnny. Just like I do."

Johnny kissed her then, slow and reverent, his hands framing her face as if he was holding something sacred. When he pulled back, his voice was rough with truth. "And I love you. Always. I don't care what your dad thinks, or what anybody else says. You're it for me."

Stella smiled through her tears. She nestled against his chest, kissing his shoulder, while Johnny wrapped her in his arms like he'd never let go.

For a moment, silence hung between them, thick with emotion. Then Johnny's eyes softened, and his voice dropped lower, almost shy in a way she'd never heard before.

"You know... my mom, Laura—she would've loved you too."

Stella blinked at him, surprised at the vulnerability in his tone. Johnny rarely spoke about his mother.

"She was... she was tough when she had to be," Johnny said, his gaze drifting upward as if seeing her in the shadows of memory. "But she had this softness about her. She could light up a whole room just by walking in. And she never judged me, no matter how many times I screwed up. She just wanted me to be happy." His voice cracked slightly. "If she was here... she would've taken one look at you, Stella, and known you were the best damn thing that ever happened to me."

Stella's chest tightened, tears welling again—but these ones felt different. Healing. "Then maybe our moms would've been friends," she whispered with a small smile.

Johnny chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Yeah. They'd probably gang up on me, though."

"Good," Stella teased softly, brushing her thumb along his jaw. "Someone has to keep you in line."

He smirked, shaking his head, but there was no bite in his sarcasm—only love. "Guess I wouldn't mind if it was the two of you."

Stella kissed his cheek, lingering there. "Then maybe they are watching over us. Together."

Johnny pulled her against his chest, wrapping her in his arms as if sheltering her from the whole damn world. "If they are, I hope they know we're not letting go."

In that quiet, it wasn't just two people clinging to each other—it was two souls, stitched together by loss, love, and the unshakable belief that their mothers had led them exactly where they were meant to be.

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"Never thought I'd know so much about alternators and power-steering pumps," August said as he and Daniel worked side by side in the LaRusso Auto garage, tightening the last bolts under the hood of Janette's car.

"I'm sorry you had to give up your Saturday to do this," Daniel said.

"Oh, it's fine. At least my grandma will be happy." August grinned. "When y'all fixed Stella's Impala, I figured, hey—at least now she can go on dates again." He chuckled. "Although, maybe you shouldn't have fixed it."

Daniel smirked. "Yeah, I can relate. My mom used to call it 'lunch with a friend.' I hated that. One time, I caught her on a date with Mr. Harris—my history teacher. Talk about awkward. But hey, I got an A out of it."

August laughed. "That would be awkward."

Daniel lowered the hood with a satisfying click. "All right, looks good. Moment of truth."

"Okay." August slid into the driver's seat, turned the key, and the engine purred to life. "Success."

"Look at that—you're a natural," Daniel said, climbing into the passenger side. "Now we just gotta get to a party and meet Amanda and Sam. I'm already running late. Let's go."

"What? I don't know how to drive!" August said quickly. "I mean, Stella and my dad have shown me a few times back home on the backroads, but—"

"Well, then I suggest you back us out. Nice and slow," Daniel said calmly.

August hesitated, then buckled his seatbelt. "Okay..."

A short while later, they were cruising down Encino Commons. Sailing by Christopher Cross drifted from the radio, and Daniel hummed along under his breath.

"That's pretty smooth. Who is this?" August asked.

"Christopher Cross," Daniel said with a smile. "He was huge in the '80s."

"Thought he sounded familiar. My dad liked him too. I'm surprised Sensei never mentioned him."

Daniel chuckled. "Yeah, well, not everything from the '80s was hard rock. There was soft rock too—Michael McDonald, Billy Joel, Chicago."

"Who's Chicago?" August asked innocently.

Daniel turned to him. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that." He pointed ahead. "Yellow light."

Instead of slowing, August pressed the gas.

"You know when you see a yellow light, you're supposed to slow down," Daniel said.

"Uh, sorry. Usually with Sensei Lawrence we kind of—"

"It doesn't matter what he does," Daniel cut in firmly. "If you're driving with my daughter, you take the extra precautions."

August winced. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Daniel's tone softened. "I was pretty shaky at first too. Most kids my age had their dads teach them. But me? I was lucky—I had Mr. Miyagi. He showed me that just because I didn't have a dad didn't mean there wasn't someone who could fill that role."

August's hands tightened on the wheel. "My dad... he's complicated. Especially after my mom died. He was never the same. None of us were. Mom was the mold that held us together... and the glue."

Daniel glanced at him, his voice gentle. "What happened to her?"

"Rodeo accident," August said quietly. "She was barrel racing. When she got off her horse, it spooked and bolted. She was dragged through the arena. Ended up with a subdural hematoma. She was in a coma for a few days before my dad had to make the decision to take her off the vent. Hardest thing he's ever had to do... but he did it."

Daniel's expression softened. "I'm so sorry, August. Is that why your father moved you and Stella out here?"

"Yeah. He said everything back in Texas reminded him of her. Stella and I were so mad—it felt like he was only thinking about himself. Especially since he threw himself back into work right after she died."

"I get that," Daniel said. "I hated my mom for moving us to LA. Thought she was being selfish. But as I got older, I realized... she did it all for me. It wasn't about her career. She was trying to build a better life. Sounds like that's what your dad was doing too."

August thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Daniel added softly, "It may not seem brave, but sometimes avoiding conflict is the most heroic thing you can do. Believe me, I learned that the hard way." They stopped at a red light, both smiling faintly at the thought.

After a beat, Daniel asked, "What was she like—your mom?"

August's eyes brightened at the memory. "She was gentle, larger than life. She captivated everyone around her. And her laugh—it always sounded like it surprised her, like she couldn't believe she was laughing that freely. She was devoted to Stella and me. Never sang us lullabies, though. It was always Hey Jude by the Beatles." He smiled through the ache. "Sometimes, I can still see the wind in her golden hair. I miss her so much, Mr. LaRusso."

Daniel's eyes softened. "She sounds like a wonderful mother. I'm so sorry."

"She was," August whispered. His voice broke with the weight of it. "She really was."

For a moment, the car was quiet except for the hum of the engine. Then Daniel spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of memory.

"Mr. Miyagi once told me, 'When someone you love is gone... they never really leave you. They live here.'" He touched his chest gently. "'If you keep their memory alive, you never lose them.'"

August blinked quickly, his throat tight. "You really believe that?"

"I do," Daniel said softly. "And from the way you talk about her, I'd say you're already keeping her right here. That laugh you remember? The song she sang? That's her way of staying with you."

August's grip on the wheel steadied, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Mr. LaRusso."

Daniel nodded. "Anytime."

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"The drive-in's doing classics tonight," Carter said, casually dipping his fries into ketchup. "They're showing Bloodsport. Who's in?"

"I'm down," Amy said, taking a slow sip of her soda. "I'll text Will, see if he wants to roll."

April smiled as she swirled her straw through her lemonade. "You and Dr. Halstead... that's cute. I always knew there was a spark."

"Bloodsport actually sounds pretty badass," Stella chimed in.

Kara arched a brow, folding her napkin neatly. "Totally. But also... kind of reminds me of your Romeo. How's that situation going? Have you told your dad yet?"

Stella shook her head. "Not yet. You guys and Grandma are the only ones who know. Honestly... I'm scared. He's going to blow a fuse."

Lori tilted her head, pouting a little, her tone dripping playful insistence. "Ugh, babe, no. You have to come. It'll be iconic. Like, major."

Stella laughed softly. "I'm sure. I've seen Bloodsport a million times anyway."

"Well, if you change your mind..." Kara smirked, reaching for her napkin again. "You know where we'll be."

"I know."

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Johnny leaned against the counter, finishing off his Banquet as Stella pulled the casserole from the oven, her movements graceful, practiced.

"Stella, your dad's gonna kill me," he muttered, running a hand through his blonde hair

Stella smirked, hanging the mitts back on the wall. "Good thing you know karate, huh?"

Johnny gave a half-smirk back, but his shoulders were tense. "I'm serious. Can't we... tell him later?"

Stella slipped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his chin. "Johnny, I promised him no secrets. He's my dad. We tell him tonight."

Before Johnny could answer, the doorbell rang. His stomach dropped. Stella moved toward the door with calm elegance, while he yanked another Banquet from the fridge, snapping it open.

"Hi, Daddy," Stella greeted warmly, wrapping Nathan in a hug.

"Hi, hon." Nathan's deep voice carried the steady weight of command. His Ranger's eyes scanned the house before they landed square on Johnny.

Johnny straightened, forcing ease into his posture. "Sir." He extended a hand.

Nathan looked at it—then back at Johnny's face—and walked right past. Johnny's hand curled into a fist before dropping to his side.

At the table, dinner was served. Stella poured herself wine, while Johnny and Nathan both cracked beers.

"So... how was work?" Stella asked, her smile bright, her voice softening the tension.

Nathan leaned back, tone calm but edged. "Busy. Brought in a guy thought he could outrun a Ranger with a truck full of cocaine. He won't be seeing daylight again." His eyes flicked to Johnny, cool and pointed. "Some men never learn. Keep making the same mistakes until someone finally puts 'em down."

Under the table, Johnny's grip on Stella's hand tightened. She answered with a gentle squeeze, grounding him.

Nathan turned back to his daughter, his tone softening. "What about you? Hospital still treating you right? Kara and Lori behaving?"

Stella's face lit. "Yeah. They make the chaos bearable. We've got each other's backs."

Nathan's expression eased—until his gaze returned to Johnny. "And you? Still running those dojos? Still got the Valley split down the middle?"

Johnny leaned forward, meeting his stare head-on. "So far, so good, sir."

Nathan's jaw flexed. "For your sake—and Daniel's—I hope it stays that way. Heard about your old sensei. Man like that? Should've been in cuffs a long time ago. Students ending up in the hospital... doesn't sit well with me."

Johnny's smirk flickered, his voice firm. "Wouldn't have fixed anything. Keeping him in check this way works better."

The meal dragged with small talk, but every so often Nathan slipped in a jab Johnny caught:

"Some men don't grow up, just get older."
"Beer isn't a personality."
"Karate's good for kids, but grown men... well."

Each time, Johnny swallowed it down, squeezing Stella's hand under the table, her thumb brushing over his skin like she knew he was simmering.

Finally, Stella broke the weight in the air. She drew in a breath. "Daddy... we asked you here for a reason."

She laced her fingers with Johnny's and held on. Johnny's swagger softened into something rare, his voice steady when he said, "Sir... I want you to know I'd never hurt your daughter."

Nathan crossed his arms. "I certainly hope not."

Stella's voice carried steady conviction. "We're together."

Nathan leaned back, studying them both in silence. Finally, he sighed. "Stella Blue... you're twenty-eight. You can make your own choices. But I need to know—this really what you want?"

"Yes," Stella said without hesitation. "He treats me better than anyone ever has. He's gentle with me—even if no one else sees it."

Johnny's cocky edges softened instantly at her words, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Nathan leaned forward, voice low and unwavering. "What bothers me, Johnny, is you didn't come to me like a man. My daughter had to carry this secret. That doesn't sit well."

Johnny's jaw tightened, his tone clipped but respectful. "With all due respect, sir... you don't exactly make it easy to sit down for a heart-to-heart."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "You're right. I don't. Because men who hide things usually don't deserve my trust."

"Daddy—stop," Stella said firmly, tension in her voice. "He's not like that. Not with me."

Nathan studied her for a long moment before his tone shifted, deliberate but firm. "Then you both need to tell August. That boy deserves the truth—especially from his sensei."

"We will," Stella promised quickly.

Nathan took a slow drink of his beer, his gaze fixed on Johnny. "Alright. You make her happy? Good. But if you ever don't..." He leaned forward, his voice dropping like a warning bell. "I don't need a badge to deal with you."

Johnny's eyes stayed locked on his. "Understood."

Nathan finally leaned back, the storm in his tone easing as he looked at his daughter. "That's all I needed to say."

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The apartment had gone quiet, the tense weight of dinner fading into shadows. Stella's room glowed faintly from the moonlight peeking through the curtains, and John Michael Montgomery's I Can Love You Like That played softly on the radio.

She was curled against Johnny in her favorite Miss Elaine nightgown — the spaghetti strap one, pale silk brushing against his skin, the one that always drove him crazy.

She was dozing, her breath slow and steady, but Johnny lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. His hand traced idle patterns along her arm, though his jaw was still tight.

Stella stirred, pressing a warm kiss against his collarbone. Her voice came hushed, drowsy but tender. "Want to talk about it?"

Johnny stared upward, the song pressing in on every unspoken thought. "The way your dad looked at me tonight..." His voice was rough, low. "Like I was nothing but some washed-up drunk. Like I wasn't good enough to even breathe the same air as you."

Stella lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes. "Johnny..."

"I'm not imagining it," he cut in, a half-bitter smirk tugging at his mouth. "Guy stared me down the whole damn meal. Every word out of his mouth was some jab about how I'm washed up, or a drunk, or too old to be sitting at the table with his daughter." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration roughening his tone. "Hell, he didn't even shake my hand. Just walked right past me."

Her fingers found his, squeezing gently. "That's his pride talking. You scare him because I love you."

Johnny scoffed, but softer this time. "Yeah, well, not sure that makes him feel any better."

She shifted closer, pressing her cheek against his chest. "He'll come around. He has to. Because you make me happy, Johnny. Happier than I've ever been."

Her hand came up, fingertips tracing the strong line of his jaw. "He doesn't see you the way I do. He doesn't know you like I do." Her eyes locked on his, steady, unwavering. "Everyone else gets the swagger. The fighter. The man who throws punches at the world. But me?" She leaned closer, her forehead against his. "I get the man who's gentle. The man who holds me like I'm his whole world. I always have. From the moment I met you."

Johnny swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He rolled over, bracing himself above her, the silk of her nightgown sliding under his hands. "Princess, you have no idea what you do to me."

His mouth found hers in a kiss that was deep, steady, unhurried—every bit of his fire tempered by how much she meant to him. Stella clung to him like a lifeline, her hands tangled in his hair, her legs drawing him closer.

When he finally entered her, it wasn't rushed—it was slow, steady, filled with the reverence of a man who wanted to show her with every breath how much he loved her. She gasped softly against his mouth, holding him tighter, her whole body clinging to him as if she never wanted to let go.

The song wrapped around them as they moved together, every touch and every kiss a promise—Johnny pouring his soul into her, Stella giving herself back to him with the same desperate devotion.

Their rhythm built, slow at first, then surer, stronger, until it was all heat and closeness and whispered words between gasps of breath. Stella arched into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as if she could anchor herself there forever. Johnny's forehead pressed to hers, his voice breaking on her name as he held her through every wave.

And when they finally finished, it was like everything else fell away—the tension, the doubts, even the weight of her father's disapproval. Stella cried out softly, clinging to Johnny like he was the only thing keeping her tethered, while Johnny held her just as fiercely, shuddering as the intensity overtook him. They were lost in each other, their release not just physical but a rush of love so deep it left them trembling.

For a long moment they stayed that way, hearts racing together, breath mingling in the quiet. Then, with a tenderness that matched everything they had just shared, Johnny slipped out of her slowly, carefully, his hands steady at her waist as if to make sure she never felt anything but cherished.

Stella tightened her arms around him, pulling him back down against her, holding him close like a lifeline. He brushed his lips over her hair, his voice low, rough, carrying that unmistakable swagger that was all Johnny Lawrence.

"Damn it, Stella... I love you so much it hurts. You're it for me. Always gonna be you."

Her hand came up to his jaw, holding him steady so he had to see her eyes. Her voice trembled but stayed fierce. "And I love you, Johnny. Nobody else. Just you. Always."

A crooked grin tugged at his mouth, the kind only she ever got to see. "Guess you're stuck with me, princess. 'Cause I'm never letting you go."

She laughed softly through the tears that had gathered in her eyes, kissing him again, slow and sure. "Good. Because I don't want you to."

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The next morning, the Miyagi-Dos and Eagle Fangs stretched out in the back of the dojo, limbering up for the day's training.

"Henceforth, August Walker shall be known as the Rainmaker!" Demetri announced, trying to add flair as the Miyagi-Dos bent into their stretches.

"El diablo de la lluvia!" Hawk shouted with a grin, sending the group into laughter.

"If they hadn't fallen for it, we would've beaten them," Sam said.

"Maybe," August replied, "but there were still a lot of ways it could've gone bad."

Johnny's voice cut through the chatter. "What could've gone bad?"

"We were about to get in a gnarly fight at the drive-in," Hawk said, "but August saved the day."

"Oh yeah?" Johnny raised a brow. "How'd you pull that off?"

August smiled proudly. "Told the Cobra Kais to meet us at the baseball diamond—right when the sprinklers kicked on."

Johnny stared at him. "So let me get this straight. You set up a fight, didn't show, and then hosed them down?"

"Oh—it was sprinklers," Demetri corrected.

Johnny's glare snapped toward him like a whip.

"...I'll go back to saying nothing," Demetri muttered.

Johnny shook his head. "You just poked the bear. What do you think's gonna happen now? That they're just gonna walk away?"

"Who's not walking away?" Stella's voice rang out as she stepped into the yard, her curious eyes shifting between them.

"We told the Cobra Kais to meet at the baseball diamond—" August started.

"And they poked the bear," Johnny cut in.

Daniel stepped forward, calm but firm. "From what I've heard, it sounds like August showed restraint. He found a way out without anyone getting hurt. What'd you want him to do—jump into a drive-in switchblade fight? I'm proud of him. He's taking Miyagi-Do teachings to heart."

Johnny squared up to him. "Alright, LaRusso. You and me need to have a talk." He started toward Daniel, tension rolling off him.

But Daniel's attention shifted past Johnny. His eyes narrowed. "What the—"

Stella turned to see Kreese striding in, a tall man at his side. She didn't know who the man was, but the fear in Daniel's eyes told her everything she needed to know.

"Mr. LaRusso, are you okay?" Stella asked carefully.

"Gentlemen. Looks like we've got a few things to discuss."

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Nathan sat in his office at the precinct, a steaming cup of black coffee untouched on his desk. His badge and service weapon lay neatly to the side, but his focus wasn't on paperwork. He stared at the wall, jaw tight, replaying the night before.

"Chief?" Janet's gentle voice broke the silence as she stepped in, a stack of reports in her arms. She was in her late sixties, sharp-eyed but with a grandmotherly steadiness about her. She set the files down and studied him for a beat. "You look like a man carrying something heavier than casework."

Nathan leaned back in his chair with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "I thought I was hiding it better than that."

"You're a Ranger," Janet said, folding her arms with a small smile. "But you're still human. What's on your mind?"

He hesitated, then exhaled through his nose. "It's Stella. She and... Johnny Lawrence are together."

Janet raised a brow. "August's karate Sensei?"

"That's him." Nathan's voice was edged with frustration. "He runs a dojo, Eagle Fang. Back in the 80s, he used to run with Cobra Kai. Got into more fights than I can count. He's cocky, hotheaded, got a rap sheet that reads like a laundry list. A fifty-something-year-old punk who still hasn't figured out his own life. And she wasn't supposed to choose him." His fist tapped the desk once, restrained but telling. "Out of all the men in the world—hell, out of all the cowboys she could've picked—she chose him. She could've had better."

Janet studied him, then lowered herself into the chair opposite his desk. "You don't like him."

"Never have." Nathan shook his head. "And I know he's trying—last night he called me 'sir' every other sentence. But I can see it in him. Trouble. I spent a career spotting it."

Janet tilted her head, her voice soft but steady. "Maybe you've spent so long spotting trouble, you can't see when someone's trying to change."

Nathan's eyes flicked up at her.

She smiled kindly. "I've seen that look in Stella's eyes—when she talks about him. That girl of yours is strong, smart, stubborn. You raised her that way. Don't you think she'd know if he wasn't right for her?"

Nathan leaned back, arms crossing, but his eyes betrayed the crack in his armor. "She says he's gentle with her. Can't picture it, but... she seemed sure."

Janet reached across, patting the edge of his desk like she was patting his hand. "The heart doesn't choose who it falls for, Nathan. It knows what it wants, and who it wants. You can fight it, but you won't win. Best thing you can do is trust her. Stand guard if you need to—but trust her. And give him a chance... let him show you how good he can be."

Nathan sat in silence for a moment, staring at the untouched coffee. Finally, he gave a small nod. "Doesn't make it easier."

"No," Janet agreed with a warm smile. "But it makes it worth it."

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"Daniel LaRusso. It's nice to see you again."

Daniel scoffed, stepping toward him like a man ready for war. "Yeah, right. Bullshit."

Silver raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough. I'd react the same way if I were you. My past behavior was... inexcusable. If I could go back and undo it all, I would. All I can say now is I'm truly sorry. And I assure you, I'm not that man anymore."

"I don't know what padded room you crawled out of, Silver, or what twisted game you two are playing, but if you don't get off my property right now, I swear to God..." Daniel's voice cut sharp as steel.

Beside him, Stella leaned in and whispered, "Mr. LaRusso seems pissed. Who is this guy?"

Johnny bent his head just enough for her to hear, his voice low and protective. "I have no idea, princess."

Terry's smile never faltered. "Okay. Okay, I tried. We'll still hold our students to a moratorium on fighting before the tournament, for what it's worth. Provided, of course, you do the same."

Johnny instantly stepped in front of Stella, pressing her back with a protective hand, his glare locking on Silver.

"Just remember our deal," Kreese said as he joined the group, his presence darkening the room. "If Cobra Kai wins the All Valley, you two are done teaching. For good."

Daniel pointed to the gate, his fury boiling over. "That's not gonna happen. Cause you're not gonna win. Now get the hell out of here." He stormed off, leaving Stella standing firmly behind Johnny.

Kreese stepped closer to Johnny, his smirk aimed like a blade. "Has it really come down to this? Johnny Lawrence, playing second fiddle to little Danny LaRusso?"

Johnny didn't flinch. "No one's second fiddle. This is my dojo as much as it is his."

"Really?" Kreese glanced at the sign out front. "Sign says Miyagi-Do."

Johnny's lips curled into a dangerous grin. "Unless you want it crammed up your ass sideways, you'd better take off after your bridge partner."

Kreese chuckled, then turned to follow Silver out the gate.

Johnny finally let out a breath, his arm still hovering near Stella like a shield. "Alright," he muttered, eyes narrowing after the retreating figures. "Who the hell was that guy?" He and Stella turned toward Daniel, who looked rattled in a way Stella had never seen.

Meanwhile, outside the gate, Kreese and Silver strolled toward a sleek black car.

"Daniel LaRusso sure does hold a grudge. Now, what do we do?" Kreese asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

Silver's smile faded, replaced by cold venom. "Now, we get to work. So we can wipe the mat with that arrogant little prick." He gripped the wheel, his tone darkening. "By the way, who was that brunette bombshell standing with your champ? She's gorgeous."

Kreese's eyes narrowed. "That's Stella Walker. August's sister. She's made Johnny weak. We'll have to handle her too."

Silver smirked, slipping the car into drive as dust kicked up behind them. "Don't worry. I have a plan."