Then the announcer's voice cuts through the speakers, distorted and booming.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the Main event." He pauses, letting the noise swell, the stomping and whistling building until the floor shakes. "Tonight, we have a real treat for you. First up, brought here straight after completing his stretchin a maximum-security prison, and his first foray back into polite society, The Jailer.”
Covered in tattoos, head bald and a manic look in his eyes, a giant brawler of a man ducks under the ropes and shadow boxes his way across the ring.
“And his opponent… you know who's coming, you know what happens next." The roof nearly lifts off the venue as the crowd erupts. "Still undefeated, still absolutely terrifying, it’s THE BEAST."
The chorus of cheers and boos is deafening and split roughly down the middle as the door opens, and a massive figure emerges, ducking his head to walk through.
He's huge. Even on the grainy feed, the size of him is staggering. A loose sleeveless hoodie covers his upper body, hood pulled up to hide his face but does nothing to disguise his immense size. His hands are taped, hanging loosely at his sides, and he walks with the slow, rolling gait of a man who knows exactly what he's about to do while enjoying taking his time.
In the VIP section, Sophia Black sits forward in her chair, hands clasped tightly together.
The fighter reaches the ring, steps through the ropes without any fuss, and stretches his neck from side to side. The crowd noise builds, boos and cheers echoing off the walls, and the stomping of feet that shakes the camera feed.
Van continues to tap on the keys, letting his programs work their magic, scanning for Dimitri or his known associates, looking for any trouble.
But I can’t stop staring at the screen, breath caught in my throat as the fighter pulls his hood back.
"Beau..." Lisa's voice through the earpiece is barely a whisper. "That's… that has to be a Lennox."
Blinking hard, I nod as Van twists in his chair to see my reaction.
"My brother. Caleb," I whisper.
Van waits for more, but the question he's not asking hangs in the air between us: Whether this changes things and if I'm about to blow this whole operation to go and get the little brother we’ve been trying to find from that ring.
“It doesn't change anything. Caleb can look after himself. Amber is the priority.”
“Got it,” Lisa confirms, but Van’s lips press into a thin line.
He knows it’s not that simple.
26
LISA
The beast that is Caleb Lennox fights like an animal playing with its food.
The Jailer comes out swinging, big looping punches that would flatten most men, but Caleb lets them land. He doesn’t even attempt to dodge the first few strikes, just takes a shot to the head, and one to the jaw.
And smiles.
The crowd roars. The Jailer swings again, frustrated with how easily the man mountain in front of him is absorbing his hardest hits. Caleb sidesteps, almost lazily, then puts him on the floor with a single uppercut to the ribs that I hear over the music.
The crunch is sickening.
The Jailer gets up gingerly, but he’s winded and fighting for air. Caleb waits, arms loose at his sides, watching the Jailer find his feet, not seizing the opportunity to wrap this up while he has the chance. When the Jailer charges again, Caleb catches him with a punch that snaps his head back before stepping away, giving the man his back, while his opponent spins on the spot and lands jaw-first on the mat.
"I'm going to do a sweep of the back rooms while everyone’s distracted," Tripp murmurs beside me, straightening his jacket. "Stay put."
He disappears into the crowd before I can argue.
Caleb scans the crowd, nostrils flared, before turning back to the man lying prone on the floor, struggling to get his knee underneath himself.
"Get up," Caleb growls, loud enough for the front rows to hear, and the Jailer does, spitting out blood and maybe a tooth, because what else can he do with three hundred people watching?
A thirty-second fight would not give these people what they came here for.
