A Sponsor's Interest

While Max was grabbing drinks, a man in a suit dripping with jewelry stopped him, immediately locking eyes with him.

"Do you have a fighter here?" Max asked casually, already piecing together the man's identity.

"Max the One-Eyed," the man replied, grinning and flashing his silver teeth. "Your fights on the deep web are some of the most viewed."

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small box, and opened it to reveal a car key.

"Do I need to guess?"

"My name's Robert," the man said, "and this is the key to a custom race car parked outside. Inside the car, there's half a million dollars and some additional gifts. If you fight for me, you'll get this and much more."

Max shook his head firmly. "I'm not interested."

As Max turned to leave, Robert quickly stepped in front of him. "Fight my guy tonight. He's the best fighter I've trained in years. If you beat him, you can take the gifts. Forget about long-term deals for now; we'll discuss that later."

The last thing Max wanted was to get involved with men like this—men who could very well be tied to organized crime. But outright refusing a challenge wasn't his style either. Still, with his friends here, he wasn't eager to get into any fights tonight.

"Think it over," Robert called after him with a bright smile. "I can offer you far better incentives if you fight in front of my sponsors tonight."

Turning to one of his men, a heavily tattooed bodyguard, Robert added in a murmur, "Prepare the gift. Tell him this is just for tonight's fights."

The bodyguard hesitated. "Weren't you saving him for the European tournament?"

Robert smirked. "I looked into him. He's got money, but if he ever needs more to pursue his true goals, he won't hesitate to work with us."

"You're talking about that, aren't you?"

"Exactly. If the deal is fair, tell him we'll eliminate one of the men who killed his father—and if he wants us to handle the other, that can be arranged too. That should be enough to get him to fight for me in the tournament. But tonight, he just needs to show me he's worth the investment."

Robert was no ordinary talent scout; he found fighters to entertain the wealthiest sponsors in the underground world. Max had caught his attention through his brutal and rule-defying performances, particularly in China. However, Robert had also unearthed fights in the U.S. where Max had mercilessly defeated opponents twice his age.

Delving deeper, Robert discovered that Max came from a well-off family, meaning money alone wouldn't be enough to sway him. But what truly piqued Robert's interest was the tragic history surrounding Max and his family. With his connections, Robert could eliminate those responsible for Max's pain within hours—something no one else could offer him.

And that was the key to unlocking Max's potential. All it would take was the promise of retribution to make Max fight anyone, anywhere.

...

When Max returned, he found Devon chatting with Ryan's girlfriend, Baja Miller, while Miguel was deep in conversation with a scruffy-haired boy.

"Having fun?" Max approached with drinks and plates of food, placing them on the table where his friends were sitting in a private lounge.

"This party's awesome," Miguel said enthusiastically.

"I just met your friend, Max. She's absolutely lovely," Baja chimed in with a smile at Devon.

Max responded with a faint smile, but before he could sit, a man in a suit approached with a silver tray holding a folded note.

"What's this?" Max asked.

"A gift. You should take it."

Curious but cautious, Max picked up the note. As his eye scanned the words, his expression turned ice-cold. "Who sent this?"

"The man you were speaking with earlier."

"Is this a joke?"

"Not at all. Mr. Robert holds you in very high regard."

Max crumpled the note in his fist, his voice dropping to a chilling tone. "I'll take out his fighter first. Then I'll make sure he keeps his word—or I'll knock out every one of his shiny teeth wherever he's hiding."

Without another word, Max stormed off toward the locker room, where Ryan was organizing the fighters for the night.

Devon, puzzled, picked up the discarded note and read it. Her heart sank as she saw the message:

"If you fight tonight, one of your parents' killers will stop breathing within days."

"This can't be happening," she whispered, her mind racing as she began to piece together the weight Max had been carrying all along.