Chapter 6 - FIGHT NIGHTBy six o’clock the next evening, the arena parking lots were full.
Fans wore Ethan Cross shirts.
His face covered banners twenty feet high.
CHAMPION.
UNBREAKABLE.
FEARLESS.
I stood inside an unmarked police van three blocks away while Detective Ruiz fitted a microphone beneath my shirt.
“You understand the rules?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Repeat them.”
“I enter the arena. I meet Ethan. I do not provoke him. I do not touch anybody unless immediate physical safety requires it.”
“And?”
“I leave the moment you tell me.”
“And?”
I sighed.
“I am not twenty-five.”
Marcus laughed from the corner.
Ruiz pointed at him.
“You’re not helping.”
“I rarely do.”
Lily sat beside a monitor.
I had argued against her coming.
I lost.
She wasn’t entering the arena, but she had insisted on remaining with the police command team.
“You promised,” she reminded me.
“I remember.”
“If he tries to make you fight him—”
“I walk away.”
“Dad.”
“I walk away.”
She searched my face.
Then nodded.
At 7:42, I entered through a service entrance.
The arena shook with noise.
Music pounded.
Fans shouted.
Security guards recognized me.
So did everyone else.
Phones appeared almost immediately.
“There’s Lily’s dad!”
“Yo, old man!”
“Fight Ethan!”
I ignored them.
A member of Ethan’s team met me near a restricted hallway.
“Mr. Cross is expecting you.”
“I gathered.”
He escorted me downstairs.
Through concrete corridors.
Past storage rooms.
Past medical stations.
Finally, we reached Ethan’s private locker room.
The door opened.
He was alone.
Or appeared to be.
Ethan sat on a bench wrapping his hands.
No shirt.
Fight shorts.
Tape.
Gloves nearby.
He looked exactly like the man sports networks sold to millions of people.
Disciplined.
Powerful.
Controlled.
He looked up.
“You came.”
“You knew I would.”
“I knew you’d pretend you didn’t want to.”
“Where’s the computer?”
He laughed.
“Straight to business.”
“You threatened my daughter. I’m not here for conversation.”
“You should be.”
He stood.
“You think Lily is innocent in all this?”
I didn’t answer.
“She stole from me.”
“She escaped you.”
“She copied private documents months ago.”
That was new.
I kept my face neutral.
“She knew about the development.”
I didn’t believe him.
But the microphone beneath my shirt heard everything.
“Why should I trust anything you say?”
“You shouldn’t.”
He walked closer.
“But ask yourself why the phone was sitting somewhere she could find it.”
“Because you’re careless?”
His eyes flashed.
Still easy to provoke.
Good to know.
“She wanted to ruin me.”
“You handled that yourself.”
He stepped closer.
“We could have fixed everything.”
“You hurt her.”
“She pushed me.”
I felt something very old and very dangerous rise inside my chest.
I pressed it down.
“What did she do that justified locking her in a room?”
His mouth opened.
He realized too late.
I watched the mistake register.
“Who said she was locked in?”
“Lily.”
“She’s lying.”
“You just told me she pushed you.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“You also told the television audience nothing happened.”
He pointed at me.
“Don’t play lawyer.”
“I’m not.”
I looked toward the ceiling cameras.
“I’m just listening.”
He moved close enough that I could smell liniment on his skin.
“You humiliated me in your yard.”
“You attacked me.”
“You got lucky.”
“I got old. There’s a difference.”
“Then prove it.”
He gestured toward the training mat inside the suite.
“One round.”
“No.”
His smile faded.
“Scared?”
“No.”
“Then fight.”
“No.”
“All those stories about you training elite soldiers…”
“No.”
“I wonder how good you really were.”
“No.”
Then he said exactly what I expected.
“Maybe Lily got her cowardice from you.”
I remained still.
He stared at me.
Nothing.
His smile vanished completely.
“You came wearing a wire.”
My pulse changed.
He stepped forward.
“You think I’m stupid?”
I didn’t answer.
He grabbed my collar.
I knocked his hand away.
The door opened.
Two of Ethan’s team members entered.
Then another.
My earpiece crackled.
Ruiz’s voice.
“Raymond, exit now.”
I moved toward the door.
The largest man blocked it.
Ethan laughed.
“You’re not leaving.”
“Police are listening.”
“Good.”
He stepped toward me.
“Maybe they’ll hear you confess.”
“To what?”
He produced a small audio recorder.
He pressed play.
My own voice came through the speaker.
Except I had never said the words.
“I should have killed all of them.”
Another sentence.
“Lily belongs with me.”
Another.
“If Ethan touches her again, I’ll bury him.”
Synthetic.
Convincing.
Ethan smiled.
“Technology is incredible.”
“You’re threatening to fabricate evidence while police are listening?”
He looked amused.
“No, Raymond. I’m showing you what somebody sent me.”
Smart.
Always one layer of deniability.
“You said you had the computer.”
“I do.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“Then give it to police.”
“You really think police can protect you from Sloan?”
Something in his voice changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
That interested me.
“This isn’t only about you anymore, Ethan.”
“It was never about me.”
“What did Sloan do?”
Ethan looked at his teammates.
“Leave.”
They hesitated.
“Now.”
They went.
Ruiz’s voice whispered through my earpiece.
“Keep talking.”
Ethan sat back down.
For the first time since meeting him, he looked tired.
“He owns everything.”
“Sponsors?”
“Everything.”
“Illegal gambling?”
He laughed.
“Illegal?”
“Yes.”
“You think that’s the worst part?”
I remained quiet.
“Sloan doesn’t fix fights to make money.”
“What does he do?”
“He fixes careers.”
I waited.
“If an athlete signs with the right agency, Sloan builds him. Rankings. Promotions. Sponsors. If you don’t cooperate, you lose.”
“Lose fights?”
“Lose everything.”
“What happened to Caleb Morgan?”
Ethan looked up sharply.
There.
The real wound.
“He left.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You told Sloan Morgan wouldn’t talk.”
His face changed.
“How do you know that?”
“The phone.”
Ethan went pale.
For the first time, I believed he had not realized exactly what Lily carried.
“What was on it?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You sent men to recover it.”
“Sloan sent them.”
“You called me afterward.”
“Because he told me to.”
This was becoming more complicated.
“You beat my daughter because Sloan told you to?”
Ethan exploded.
“No!”
The room went quiet.
Then he lowered his voice.
“That was me.”
At least he admitted one thing.
“I lost control.”
“You had seven months to find it again.”
He looked away.
“I know.”
There was no forgiveness in me.
But something else emerged.
Understanding.
Ethan was both abuser and victim of another system.
One truth did not erase the other.
“What does Sloan have on you?”
Ethan stared at the floor.
“My first professional fight.”
“What happened?”
“I was twenty-two.”
He rubbed his wrapped hands together.
“My opponent was supposed to lose.”
“Did you know?”
“No. Not before.”
“And afterward?”
“Sloan showed me the betting records. Told me if I ever left, he’d make it look like I arranged the fix.”
“So you stayed.”
“I won.”
His laugh was empty.
“Then I kept winning.”
“Some legitimately?”
“Most.”
“But enough were controlled.”
He nodded.
“What about Caleb?”
“He found out.”
“And?”
“Sloan’s people hurt him.”
“Did you?”
Silence.
“Ethan.”
“I helped.”
My jaw tightened.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Sloan moved him.”
“Is he alive?”
“I think so.”
A knock sounded.
Ethan looked toward the door.
His face drained.
“That’s not my team.”
Ruiz’s voice came through my earpiece.
“Raymond, we’re moving in.”
The lights went out.
The entire locker room fell dark.
I heard the door crash open.
Someone shouted.
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
I turned.
Another man struck from the side.
Pain exploded across my ribs.
I stumbled into the lockers.
Ethan yelled.
A struggle broke out.
Emergency lights flashed red.
I saw three men wearing arena security uniforms.
But they weren’t arena security.
One held Ethan against the wall.
Another reached beneath my shirt.
“The wire!”
I caught his wrist.
Twisted.
He struck me again.
I trapped his elbow and drove him into the lockers.
The third man pulled something from his jacket.
Not a gun.
A syringe.
He lunged toward Ethan.
Ethan kicked him backward.
“What the hell is that?”
The man recovered.
I slammed a bench between them.
Police flooded the hallway.
“DOWN!”
“POLICE!”
Everything stopped.
Almost.
The man holding the syringe ran toward a side door.
Ruiz tackled him.
Two officers restrained the others.
Ethan stood against the wall breathing heavily.
His face had lost all color.
Ruiz picked up the syringe with gloved hands.
“What is this?”
One attacker said nothing.
Ethan stared at it.
Then at me.
“They were going to kill me.”
I didn’t answer.
He looked suddenly much younger than the champion on the posters.
“They were going to make it look like an overdose.”
Ruiz faced him.
“Mr. Cross, I think it’s time you decide whether Victor Sloan is worth protecting.”
The arena announcer’s voice boomed overhead.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the championship main event begins in thirty minutes!”
Twenty thousand people roared.
Ethan stared toward the ceiling.
His entire life was waiting upstairs.
The belt.
The cameras.
The fame.
Then he looked at the handcuffed men sent to silence him.
“I’ll testify.”
Ruiz nodded.
“Good.”
“But first,” Ethan said, “I need to finish something.”
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
I thought he wanted to fight.
May you like
Instead, he picked up his championship jacket.
“I need to tell twenty thousand people the truth.”
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