The moment Alexander locked eyes with his opponent, the world tilted. It was a ghost—a man he'd buried long ago. A man who knew all his weaknesses.
The fight wasn't just brutal; it was personal. Every punch carried memories, every hit dragging Alexander back to a past he had spent years running from. Blood dripped from his knuckles, his vision blurring with old wounds reopening.
Meanwhile, Eve made a choice of her own. She stormed into Carver's private lounge, standing toe-to-toe with the devil himself.
"Let him go," she demanded. "I'll take his place."
Carver chuckled. "Men like him don't get happy endings, sweetheart. They get graves or ghosts."
Alexander, barely standing in the ring, turned his head just in time to see Carver smirking at Eve from the sidelines. The realization hit him like a freight train—she had just made a deal that could cost her everything.
Alexander (after realizing Eve made a deal): "You were supposed to run, Eve. Not bleed for me."