As afternoon bled into evening, Markus left early to prepare.

  Before heading out, he handed out tickets like promises.

  “Front row,” he grinned. “So you can watch me dominate. I’m about to smash everybody in that ring.”

  “You got this,” Dramaine said. “Next stop, pay-per-views.”

  Markus pulled Aisha close. “This is it, baby. Our lives are about to change.”

  “Just go out there and have fun,” she said softly. “We’ll be there no matter what.”

  Isiah leaned in. “But if star-wrestler money happens… that’d be nice too.”

  Markus laughed and left.

  The venue was packed by the final match.

  Markus entered first, radiating confidence. He circled the ring, hyping the crowd, then locked eyes with his people and flashed a thumbs-up.

  They returned it.

  His opponent’s music hit.

  The bell rang.

  They locked up center ring.

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  At first, it was clean. Controlled. The kind of match that builds a career. Slams. Counters. Crowd work.

  Fifteen minutes in, Markus hit his finisher.

  The ref dropped.

  One.

  Two—

  Kick-out.

  Too fast.

  The crowd shifted uneasily.

  Markus hesitated.

  That was all it took.

  The opponent surged up and drove a stiff forearm into Markus’s jaw.

  Not staged.

  Real.

  Another strike.

  Another.

  Markus staggered.

  Then two more wrestlers stormed the ring.

  No music.

  No cue.

  Just violence.

  They swarmed him.

  Boots. Fists. Elbows.

  Markus curled in, protecting his head as the crowd erupted in confusion.

  “That’s not right,” Naomi said, already moving toward the barrier.

  Dramaine was on his feet.

  Isiah gripped the steel rail so tight it creaked.

  Dramaine reached forward—

  And then Markus looked up.

  Through blood.

  Through chaos.

  He smiled.

  And the flame ignited.

  Not wild.

  Not uncontrolled.

  Focused.

  Roaring.

  It surged in rhythm with his breathing, wrapping around his body like living armor.

  Markus rose.

  He threw the first attacker off him like dead weight.

  The second flew into the ropes.

  The third hit the mat hard enough to shake the ring.

  The crowd saw a comeback.

  Dramaine saw power.

  The blue flame coiled around Markus’s arms, snapping forward with every strike. Each punch landed heavier than physics allowed. Every grapple crushed with unnatural force.

  A clothesline folded one man in half.

  Another was launched clear out of the ring, crashing into the crowd barrier.

  The last barely had time to react before Markus lifted him high—

  And drove him down.

  The ring shuddered.

  Silence.

  Then the crowd exploded.

  Markus stood alone in the center, chest heaving.

  The flame still burned.

  Bright.

  Hungry.

  Victorious.

  Three bodies lay at his feet.

  The arena roared.

  Dramaine didn’t.

  He just watched the fire.

  And for the first time—

  It scared him.