Haley’s grin told me she’d already decided.
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
She rolled her shoulders like someone loosening up before a street fight.
“You said we need access,” she replied.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means exactly that.”
The next fight in the Pit had already begun. Two new fighters circled under the floodlights, their bodies slick with sweat and chalk, the crowd screaming wagers down from the railings.
Haley leaned slightly closer to me.
“Think about it,” she murmured. “You’re the handler. I’m the talent. We get inside the fighter corridor. Once we’re through the gate, we find the kid.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because the plan was good.
Too good.
Doc practically purred inside my skull.
See? She gets it.
Belmont was less enthusiastic.
Reckless.
Doc laughed.
Reckless wins fights.
Haley tapped the rail lightly.
“Well?”
I exhaled.
“Fine,” I said.
Her smile widened.
“Attaboy.”
We moved toward the booking table near the fighter corridor entrance. A heavyset woman with braided gray hair sat behind the table flipping through a clipboard thick with sheets.
She didn’t look up when we approached.
“Walk-in or scheduled?” she asked.
“Walk-in,” I said.
Now she looked up.
Her gaze swept over Haley.
Paused.
Then flicked back to me.
“She fight?”
“She wins,” I said.
The woman leaned back in her chair slightly.
“You got paperwork?”
“No.”
“Contract?”
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“No.”
“Recommendation?”
“No.”
She snorted.
“Then why should I waste my time?”
I placed the black token from earlier on the table.
Then slid a folded stack of bills beside it.
“Because we’re interesting,” I said.
The woman studied the money.
Then Haley.
Then the money again.
Finally she shrugged.
“Fine,” she muttered. “House rules apply. No weapons. No outside interference. She goes down, she stays down.”
Haley leaned forward.
“That only applies to the other guy,” she said.
The woman barked a short laugh.
“Get her wrapped,” she said, waving toward the corridor.
One of the guards opened the reinforced gate.
Just long enough for us to pass through.
?
The VIP corridor above the Pit was quiet.
Too quiet.
The roar of the crowd filtered through thick concrete walls, distant and muffled now, like thunder heard underwater.
Two guards dragged Luca forward by the arms.
His legs worked, barely, but they didn’t trust him to walk alone.
Not after what he’d done in the ring.
The door ahead opened.
Inside waited a room that looked like a luxury office had been dropped in the middle of a slaughterhouse.
Polished wood desk.
Leather chairs.
Glass liquor cabinet.
And sitting behind the desk like he owned gravity itself—
Rico.
He was laughing.
Not politely.
Not politely at all.
He leaned back in his chair, one hand over his eyes as if the sight in front of him was the funniest thing he’d seen all week.
Luca’s coach lay on the floor in front of the desk.
Beaten.
Bloody.
Barely conscious.
“Look at him,” Rico said between chuckles.
His men laughed with him.
Luca’s fists clenched.
“You said—” Luca started.
Rico wiped a tear from his eye.
“Oh I remember what I said,” he replied.
He leaned forward slightly.
“I said if you won… I’d leave your neighborhood alone.”
Luca swallowed.
“And I meant it.”
Rico nodded toward the coach.
“Your little barrio is safe.”
The coach still wouldn’t look at him.
Wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Luca’s chest tightened.
“You drugged me,” Luca said quietly.
The coach flinched.
Still didn’t look up.
Rico waved a hand dismissively.
“Yes yes, very tragic betrayal, all that.” He leaned forward slightly, studying Luca with open curiosity. “But I must say… the part where you still won?”
He grinned.
“That part was spectacular.”
The room laughed again.
Luca took a step forward before the guards jerked him back.
“You said if I won you’d let him go,” Luca said.
Rico nodded.
“I did.”
He gestured lazily.
“Let him go.”
One of the guards hauled the coach up by his collar and shoved him toward the door.
The man stumbled past Luca without looking at him.
Not once.
Not even when their shoulders brushed.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Silence.
Luca stared at the floor where the man had been.
“You kept your word,” he said finally.
Rico smiled.
“I always do.”
Then his smile sharpened.
“But you misunderstood the deal.”
Luca looked up.
Rico stood slowly.
“You see,” Rico continued, strolling around the desk, “our agreement never included letting you walk away.”
The guards tightened their grip.
Luca’s stomach dropped.
“You’re strong,” Rico said, circling him like a buyer inspecting livestock. “Stronger than anyone expected.”
He stopped in front of Luca.
“And now you belong to me.”
The room laughed again.
Luca jerked forward against the guards.
“You can’t—”
Rico slapped him.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the room.
“Don’t be dramatic,” Rico said calmly.
He turned toward the guards.
“Chain him.”
Two men stepped forward carrying a thick set of dark metal restraints.
The moment they locked around Luca’s wrists and ankles—
The warmth in his chest flickered.
Not gone.
But muted.
Like a fire suddenly buried under wet sand.
Luca’s eyes widened.
“What did you—”
“Energy dampeners,” Rico said pleasantly.
He stepped close enough that Luca could smell his cologne.
“You’re a gladiator now, little kitty.”
The room erupted in laughter again.
Rico patted Luca’s cheek.
“Win enough fights,” he said, “and maybe I’ll let your corpse go back to your family one day.”
The guards dragged Luca toward the door.
Rico’s voice followed them.
“Put him with the other fighters.”
The door slammed behind him.
?
The fighter corridor smelled worse than the arena.
Sweat.
Blood.
Fear.
Metal.
Haley was already wrapping her hands as we walked.
“You good?” I asked quietly.
She smirked.
“You worried?”
Doc snickered.
You should be.
Belmont remained silent.
Ahead of us, the corridor opened toward the holding kennels.
And somewhere behind those reinforced doors…
A kid named Luca had just become property.
Haley finished tightening the tape around her knuckles.
“Have a little faith,” she said.
