The Pit was the same as before.The warehouse. The ring. The crowd. The hunger. The desperation. The violence. The air was thick with sweat and blood. The noise was deafening. The crowd was hungry. Desperate.Nathan walked through the entrance. The guards parted for him. They had heard about him. The soldier. The killer. The man who couldn't be broken. The man who had come back from the dead.He walked through the crowd. They stared at him. Whispered about him. They knew why he was here. They knew what was at stake.Vance was waiting in the center of the room. His eyes were cold. His smile was cruel. He was standing on the platform, arms crossed, surrounded by his men."Nathan Cole," Vance said. "I was wondering when you'd come."Nathan's voice was cold. "Where is my son?"Vance smiled. "He's here. Somewhere in the building. If you win, I'll tell you where he is. If you lose, you'll never see him again."Nathan's fists clenched. "Then let's fight."Nathan climbed onto the platform. Hi

Nathan sat on the steps of the gym, staring at the stars.The night air was cold. The city hummed in the distance. The lights flickered in the windows of the buildings across the street. Sarah was inside with Ryan, sleeping peacefully. For the first time in years, his family was safe. Together. Whole.But Nathan couldn't sleep.His mind kept racing. Vance was in prison. The network was in chaos. But there were others. Others who had helped Vance. Others who were part of the conspiracy. Others who would come for him again.He needed to find them. He needed to stop them. He needed to protect his family.Elena walked out of the diner. She sat beside him on the steps. Her face was tired. Her eyes were sharp."You can't sleep either?" Elena asked.Nathan shook his head. "Too much on my mind."Elena nodded. "I know the feeling."They sat in silence. The stars were bright. The night was quiet."Elena," Nathan said. "How do you know so much about the underground? About the network? About Vanc

Nathan stood in front of the small apartment, staring at the "FOR RENT" sign in the window.The building was run-down. Cracked paint. Broken stairs. The kind of place where people went to disappear. The kind of place where hope went to die. The front door was chipped. The windows were drafty. The fire escape was rusted and sagging. The neighborhood was rough. The kind of neighborhood where you locked your doors and kept your head down.But it was all they could afford. It was all anyone would give him. The prison record followed him everywhere. The dishonorable discharge. The accusations. The lies.Sarah stood beside him. Her face was pale. Her eyes were tired. She had been through so much. They all had. The years of hiding. The years of fear. The years of waiting."Are you sure about this?" Sarah asked. "We could find something better. Something safer."Nathan shook his head. "This is all we can get. My record follows me everywhere. No one will rent to me. No one will hire me. This i

Nathan sat on the steps of the small apartment, staring at the empty street.The sun was rising. The sky was turning pink and gold. The city was waking up. Cars honked. People shouted. The world kept moving, indifferent to his pain. Indifferent to his desperation.His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in two days. There was no food in the apartment. No money in his pocket. No hope in his heart.Sarah was inside, sleeping on the thin mattress in the corner. Ryan was beside her, curled up like a child, his face pale and thin. They were both hungry. Both tired. Both broken.Nathan had failed them. He had promised to protect them. He had promised to provide for them. And he had failed.He needed money. He needed food. He needed a way to survive.He thought about the underground. The fighters. The gamblers. The money. He had fought there before. He had won before. He could do it again.But the underground was dangerous. Brutal. Men died in the ring. Men were killed for less.Nathan looked a

Nathan spent the next three days training.Every morning, he woke before dawn. The sky was still dark, the stars still visible. He pulled on his worn-out sweatshirt and ran through the empty streets, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. His legs burned. His lungs ached. But he pushed himself harder. Faster. Further.He found an empty lot behind the apartment building. It was overgrown with weeds, littered with broken glass and rusted metal. But it had a rusted pull-up bar. It had space to move. It had everything he needed.He did push-ups until his arms gave out. Pull-ups until his hands bled. Shadowboxing until his vision blurred. He threw combinations in the cold morning air, his fists cutting through the darkness like knives.Jab. Cross. Hook. Duck. Move. Repeat.His body screamed. His ribs ached. His knuckles were raw. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.The tournament was in eleven days. Fifty thousand dollars. A chance