The Devil’s Invitation

Chapter 6: The Devil's Invitation

The fight was over. Sammy had won. But the victory didn't sit right with him.

His knuckles throbbed as he walked through the nightclub's dimly lit hallway, his shirt sticking to his skin with sweat and blood. Carlos followed behind, silent. He hadn't said much after the fight, and Sammy wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Rick was already waiting for them near the exit, leaning against the wall with his usual smirk. "Well, kid. You made it loud and clear—you're ready for the next level."

Sammy wiped his busted lip. "And what level is that?"

Rick pulled a small card from his pocket and handed it over. Sammy took it, flipping it between his fingers. It was black with gold lettering. A single name printed in bold font:

Vinnie's Arena

An address was scrawled beneath it. No date, no time. Just a location.

Carlos stiffened. "This isn't a normal fight, Sammy."

Rick shrugged. "Vinnie doesn't set up normal fights. You want in? Show up. If not, well…" He exhaled smoke from his cigarette. "Then you better be happy with where you're at."

Sammy looked at the card again. He had fought to survive. He had fought to prove himself. But now?

Now he was being invited into a world where there were no rules.

And he didn't know if he was ready for that.

They rode back in silence. Sammy sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the neon-lit streets, his fingers still clutching the card.

Carlos broke the silence first. "You don't have to do this."

Sammy didn't answer right away. "If I don't, then what?"

Carlos sighed. "Then you keep fighting scraps, making chump change, waiting for someone bigger to come knock you down."

Sammy turned to look at him. "So you're saying I have to do this."

Carlos met his gaze. "I'm saying if you do this, you need to understand what you're stepping into. This ain't about belts or rankings. This is about power. And once you're in, you don't get out clean."

Sammy didn't look away. "Then I guess I better not lose."

Carlos shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You're a stubborn bastard."

Sammy grinned. "Guess I learned from the best."

The address led them to an old, abandoned parking garage on the outskirts of the city. The place looked empty from the outside, but as soon as they stepped in, the atmosphere changed.

Rows of expensive cars lined the walls. Men in suits stood at the entrance, checking in fighters. There were no posters, no advertisements—this was a place for those in the know.

Rick had been right. This wasn't just another underground fight.

This was something bigger.

As they walked through, Sammy spotted fighters he had only heard about in whispers—men who had no business being in the same room. Some were bruised and battered, others stood tall like kings of the underworld.

And then, at the center of it all, was him.

Vinnie.

He sat in a leather chair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, watching the room like a king surveying his kingdom. He was older, his slicked-back hair graying at the edges, but his eyes were sharp. Calculating.

When he noticed Sammy, he smiled.

"Well, well… Look who finally showed up."

Sammy stepped forward, keeping his expression neutral. "You wanted to see me?"

Vinnie chuckled, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Oh, kid. I wanted to see what you were made of. And you delivered."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me something. You enjoy that last fight?"

Sammy thought for a moment. "I won."

Vinnie smirked. "That's not what I asked."

Sammy exhaled. "It wasn't boxing. It was a street fight."

Vinnie nodded approvingly. "Exactly. And that's why you're here."

He gestured toward the room. "Everyone here fights for something. Some fight for money. Some for reputation. Some for something deeper."

He leaned back again. "So tell me, Sammy—what do you fight for?"

Sammy didn't answer right away. He had been asking himself the same question since he started.

At first, it had been about proving himself. Then it was about survival.

But now?

Now, he wasn't sure.

Vinnie chuckled at the silence. "That's alright. You'll figure it out soon enough." He snapped his fingers, and a man stepped forward, handing him a folder.

Vinnie tossed it onto the table in front of him. "Inside is the name of your next opponent. This ain't just another street fight, kid. This is your real test."

Sammy took the folder and flipped it open.

His stomach clenched.

Inside was a photo of a fighter he recognized immediately.

A man who had never lost in the underground.

A man who ended careers.

The name beneath the photo sent a chill down Sammy's spine.

Dante "The Butcher" Moreno.

Vinnie grinned. "Hope you're ready for hell, kid."

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