Grit and Suspicion

The muffled thud of fists on leather cut through the clang of weights and grunts of exertion. Sweat and chalk thickened the air—a scent that stripped away pretenses, leaving only grit. This wasn’t a gym for casuals. It was a proving ground. A place where reputations were forged and legacies tested.

Logan Drake stepped inside, his polished shoes clicking against scuffed concrete. Beside him, Grizz moved like he belonged, boots thudding in contrast to Logan’s sharp steps. Logan straightened his loose tie—a half-hearted gesture, like wearing the suit was more habit than choice. In this temple of grit, he was an outsider.

Across the room, Colton Hayes was pummeling a punching bag, his movements precise and unrelenting. Each strike sent the bag swinging violently on its chain, the force of his punches echoing in the cavernous gym. Colton Hayes was all precision—lean muscle, sharp features, short-cropped black hair. His gaze never wavered, carved from years of discipline. A fighter, through and through.

Grizz stepped forward first, his voice cutting through the din. "Colt, you old bastard," he called out, his tone warm and familiar.

Colton turned, his expression breaking into a grin as he pulled off a glove to shake Grizz’s hand. "Grizz, you son of a bitch," he said, his voice rough but filled with genuine camaraderie. "Didn’t think I’d see you walkin’ in here."

"Good to see you too, Colt," Grizz replied, his voice carrying an ease that only years of friendship could bring.

But the moment the pleasantries ended, Colton’s gaze shifted to Logan. The warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by a sharp, unyielding scrutiny. His grin disappeared as he sized Logan up, his expression hard as granite.

Logan stepped forward, extending his hand with a polite smile. "Colton Hayes. It’s an honor to finally meet you."

Colton ignored the hand. Without a word, he turned back to the bag and unleashed a brutal flurry of strikes. The chain groaned under the force. Then, as if Logan didn’t exist, he yanked off his glove and slung a towel over his shoulder.

"Grizz," Colton said, his voice carrying across the room, "I only agreed to this meeting because of you." He turned to face Logan, his jaw clenched. "But I don’t trust him."

Logan’s hand dropped awkwardly to his side, but his expression remained calm. He’d been expecting resistance—especially from someone like Colton Hayes. A decorated MMA veteran and a respected figure in combat sports, Colton was a man who valued integrity and despised anything that felt like a cash grab. Logan’s reputation as someone sleeping with a corporate giant didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

"Colt, take a breath," Grizz interjected, stepping between the two. His tone was steady but firm. "Logan’s not here to screw you over. He’s got an idea—one I think you’ll want to hear."

Colton crossed his arms, his muscles bulging against the fabric of his tank top as he leaned back against the punching bag. "I’ve heard enough about this idea," he said, his eyes never leaving Logan. "A tournament? MMA vs. wrestling? Sounds like another suit making a buck off guys like me.”

Grizz chuckled, stroking his beard. "You’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, Colt. That’s what this is—a challenge. And I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was worth your time."

Colton snorted, a derisive sound that carried his skepticism. "You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t getting a cut."

Grizz grinned, unbothered. "Damn right I’m getting a cut. But you know me—I don’t put my name on just anything. You’ve known me long enough to know that."

Colton’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Grizz, as though searching for cracks in his old friend’s conviction. When he found none, he sighed, the sound more a growl than a breath.

"Alright, Grizz. You’ve got my attention. But he’s got about thirty seconds to convince me this isn’t a circus."

Logan straightened his posture, trying to mask his relief as he stepped forward. "Colton, I get it. I know what people think of me. I don’t blame you for being cautious. But this isn’t about corporate greed—it’s about something real. A chance to remind people why they love this sport."

Colton’s piercing gaze didn’t waver. "And why should I believe you?"

Before Logan could respond, Grizz stepped in. His voice carried a weight that only years of hard-earned respect could bring. "Because I believe him."

For the first time, Logan saw a flicker of something other than suspicion in Colton’s eyes. It wasn’t trust, not yet, but it was something close—a begrudging respect, perhaps, or at least the willingness to listen.

Colton nodded slowly, pushing off the punching bag and tossing the towel onto a nearby bench. "Alright, Grizz, but if this turns into a circus, I’m out. And if he screws me over…" He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes locked on Logan.

"I won’t," Logan said firmly, meeting Colton’s gaze with as much sincerity as he could

muster. "I promise you that."

Colton nodded again, the tension in his stance easing slightly. "Fine. Let’s talk."

The three men moved to a quieter corner of the gym, their voices soon lost in the

background noise of fists meeting bags and weights clanging on racks. Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just cleared a major hurdle. But as he glanced at Colton Hayes—gruff, skeptical, and unapologetically tough—he knew this was just the beginning.

The road ahead was still long, and every step would be a fight.