I Built The Underworld While You Called Me Useless

Chapter 8

The concrete floor of the "Pit" was slick with a cocktail of sweat, cheap beer, and fresh blood. In the center of the ring, Jax—a mountain of a man with a shaved head and knuckles scarred into ivory—was finally on his knees. Five debt collectors, dressed in heavy leather jackets and brandishing steel pipes, circled him like hyenas around a wounded lion.

"Stay down, Jax!" the lead collector, a man known as 'The Hammer,' spat. "You’ve lost. The house always wins, and your tab at the Golden Cage is six figures deep."

Jax wiped blood from his lip, his eyes still burning. "I don't... pay... for fixed fights."

"The boss doesn't care about your pride," Hammer sneered, raising his pipe. "He cares about the vig. Since you can't pay with cash, we’ll start taking it out in bone density. Break his ribs."

"I wouldn't do that," a voice rang out from the entrance.

The collectors turned. Lucian stood there, framed by the flickering neon of the basement. He looked out of place in the grime, yet he walked forward with a terrifying lack of hesitation.

"Who the hell is this?" one of the collectors laughed. "Hey, kid, you looking for the library? This is a private party."

"I’m the guy who’s closing your tab," Lucian said, stopping ten feet from the circle.

"You got six figures on you?" Hammer asked, tapping the pipe against his palm. "Because if not, you’re just the next body on the pile."

"I have something better," Lucian said. He pulled out his phone and hit a speed-dial. He tapped the speakerphone icon.

The ringing stopped instantly. "What?" a gravelly, high-stress voice barked from the speaker. It was Vinny 'The Ghost' Moretti, the man who ran the city’s underground gambling circuit.

"Hello, Vinny," Lucian said.

There was a dead silence on the other end. Then, the sound of a chair screeching back. "Mr. Croft? Is that you? I thought... I heard you were in the slums."

"I am. I’m standing in your 'Pit' right now. Your men are about to break the ribs of a man I need."

"What?" Vinny’s voice went up an octave, shrill with panic. "Hammer! Is Hammer there?"

Hammer looked at the phone, his face contorting in confusion. "Yeah, boss. We’re just collecting from the fighter. He’s a deadbeat."

"You idiot!" Vinny screamed through the tiny speaker. "Drop the pipe! Drop it right now or I’ll have your head on a spike by morning! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?"

"Boss, it’s just some kid—"

"That 'kid' bought my gambling markers from the Syndicate ten minutes ago!" Vinny howled. "He owns me! He owns the Golden Cage! He owns the shoes on your feet! If he tells you to jump, you ask him how many miles high! Let the fighter go! Now!"

The pipes hit the concrete with a series of heavy clangs. The collectors backed away, their bravado evaporating into sheer, cold terror. Hammer looked at Lucian, his jaw hanging open.

"We... we didn't know, sir," Hammer stammered. "We were just—"

"Leave," Lucian said.

They didn't wait for a second invitation. The five men scrambled for the exit, nearly tripping over each other to get out of the basement.

Jax remained on the floor, breathing heavily. He looked up at Lucian, his eyes narrowing. "You bought Moretti? Nobody buys Moretti. He’s a shark."

"Every shark has a hook in its mouth, Jax. I just happened to find the line." Lucian walked over and offered a hand.

Jax ignored the hand and stood up on his own, wincing. He towered over Lucian, his presence suffocating. "I’ve seen men like you before. Rich kids playing at being legends. You think because you have a phone and some bank codes, I’m yours?"

"I don't think you’re mine," Lucian said. "I think you’re tired of losing fights that are decided in a back room before you even lace up your gloves."

"I don't follow men," Jax growled, stepping into Lucian’s personal space. "Men are weak. Men break. I’ve seen the way you moved through those collectors. You didn't even flinch. I don't follow men. I follow demons. Which one are you?"

Lucian didn't back down. He leaned in, his voice a low, vibrating hum of power.

"I’m the one who signs your paycheck, Jax. And starting tomorrow, the only people you'll be fighting are the ones who think they’re untouchable."

Jax stared at him for a long beat. The silence in the Pit was heavy. Then, slowly, the giant of a man lowered his head in a gesture of absolute, grim submission.

"The Vales?" Jax asked.

"The Vales," Lucian confirmed. "We start with their private security. I want the 'Cleaners' dismantled piece by piece."

"Then I’m your hound," Jax said.

Lucian’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. A new message from Silas—the traitor-turned-spy—appeared.

The Vales are moving the 'Ghost' server to the docks. Midnight. They have a gunship.

Lucian smiled, a sharp, predatory expression that made even Jax take a half-step back. "Change of plans, Jax. We aren't just dismantling them. We’re sinking them."