Page 27 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

I catch myself turning down the road, and that's when it hits me. I'm being drawn to her, pulled toward her like a fucking magnet, and I don't know how to stop it.

This is a mistake. Getting involved with Marla would complicate everything, especially with Alex and Nick both interested in her too. The smart thing to do would be to turn around, go home, and forget about her entirely.

But as I drive down the dark road, the trees closing in on either side, I realize I'm not going to do the smart thing.

I'm going to see her.

9

ALEX

The underground fight club is packed tonight, which means money is flowing and deals are being made in the shadows between rounds. I stand on the private balcony overlooking the ring, watching the crowd more than the fighters.

Down below, two men are beating the shit out of each other while wealthy businessmen in expensive suits shout encouragement and wave fistfuls of cash.

Local politicians stand shoulder to shoulder with known criminals, all of them united by their love of violence and their willingness to gamble on it.

This is why I opened the club ten years ago. Not for the money, though there's plenty of that.

Not even for the fights themselves, though I enjoy watching skilled fighters work. I opened it because places like this reveal people's true nature.

When men think they're anonymous in the dark, when they're drunk on adrenaline and the thrill of watching blood spill, they show you who they really are.

They make deals they wouldn't make in boardrooms.

They reveal weaknesses they'd never admit to in daylight. And they test loyalties and forge alliances based on shared appetites for violence.

I've learned more about the people in this city from watching them at my fight club than I ever could from surveillance or interrogation. A man who cheers when a fighter breaks his opponent's arm is a man who enjoys cruelty.

A man who turns away is a man with limits.

A man who bets everything on the underdog is either desperate or stupid, and both qualities are useful to know.

The current fight ends with a brutal knockout, and the crowd roars its approval.

Money changes hands rapidly as bets are settled and new ones are placed.

I watch a city councilman slip an envelope to one of my captains, payment for some favor or another.

I watch a rival family's lieutenant lose badly on a bet and immediately start negotiating with one of my men for a loan. Information, leverage, and opportunity. It's all here if you know how to look for it.

The truth is, I'm a very good fighter myself. I've trained in multiple disciplines over the years—boxing, Muay Thai, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, Krav Maga. I can handle myself in any situation, and I've proven it more times than I can count.

But I'm also a man who values control above almost everything else, and that means I can't afford to lose my temper or let my emotions dictate my actions.

The fight club gives me an outlet when I need one.

When the pressure builds and the violence inside me demands release, I can step into that ring and let it out in a controlled environment where the rules are clear and the consequences are manageable.

Tonight, though, I'm content to watch.

The fights are good, the crowd is engaged, and everything is running smoothly.

My security team moves through the warehouse keeping order without being obvious about it.

The bartenders keep the drinks flowing, and the bookies keep the bets organized. It's a well-oiled machine, and I'm proud of what I've built here.

Midway through the evening, one of the fighters loses badly.