The Devil's Deal

The air in Logan Drake’s office was thick with the scent of stale coffee and something heavier—doubt. His desk, once a battlefield of scattered papers, was now a minefield of unfinished business. Notes were scribbled on scraps of paper, some half-crumpled in frustration, others buried beneath empty coffee cups. A whiteboard, covered in chaotic scrawls, loomed over the room, its red marker ink smudged from Logan’s restless hands.  

Across from him, Grizz leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, chewing on the end of a toothpick. His broad frame settled into the chair with ease, the shadow of his weathered bandana obscuring any hint of emotion on his face.

Against the wall, Colton Hayes stood with his arms folded, one boot braced against the peeling paint. His skeptical gaze flicked between Logan and Grizz, watching like a man waiting for a car wreck to unfold.  

Logan exhaled, pressing his fingertips against his temples. "We’ve got Glenn Sterling. We’ve got you, Colton. Big names. Big personalities. But we’re still missing one marquee name—the name."  

Grizz’s toothpick shifted between his teeth. "What’re you thinking?"  

Logan hesitated for a fraction of a second, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Elias Rhodes."

Grizz froze mid-sip of his coffee. His jaw tensed as he set the mug down, his expression darkening. "Titan?" he muttered, his voice edged with disbelief. "Are you outta your damn mind?"

Colton let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know you’ve lost it, Logan. That’s not just playing with fire—you’re dousing yourself in gasoline."  

Logan didn’t waver. "He’s also the biggest draw in the business. The guy sells out arenas. If we want this tournament to be bigger than big, we need him."  

Grizz leaned forward, his eyes cold. "The kind of guy who’s poison backstage. A walking disaster. Hell, there isn’t a locker room in the country that doesn’t have a Titan meltdown story. He’s trouble, Logan. And I’m not gettin’ involved in this one."  

Logan held his ground. "I’m not trying to fix him. I just need him for one night. Three fights….max. That’s it."  

Grizz chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You don’t get it. There is no ‘just one night’ with Titan. The man’s a ticking time bomb. You’re handing him a platform and praying he doesn’t light the fuse."  

Colton finally spoke again, his voice even but firm. "I’ve fought guys like Titan. You think you can control him?" He shook his head. "You can’t. And if he goes rogue, it’s your ass on the line, not his."  

Logan took a slow breath, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. "I hear what you’re both saying. But this isn’t about what’s easy—it’s about what’s necessary. Titan’s name gets people talking. He brings eyes to this tournament. And that’s exactly what we need."  

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.  

Grizz exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head like a man seeing a wreck before it happened. "You’re hell-bent on this, aren’t ya?"

Logan nodded, though his certainty felt heavier now. "I am."  

Grizz stood, adjusting his jacket with deliberate movements. "Alright, kid. You wanna do this? Fine. But I’m out on this one. I want nothing to do with Titan."  

Logan blinked, his stomach tightening. "Grizz—"  

"No." Grizz’s voice was firm, final. "I’ve done my part, Logan. I put my name on the line for you, made the calls, got you fighters. But this? I can’t stand behind it. If you bring Titan into

this, you’re dancing with the devil."

He turned toward the door, his boots thudding heavily against the floorboards.  

Logan’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke. "Grizz, I need you. You’re the one who made this possible."  

Grizz stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn around. His voice, when it came, was quieter, heavier. "You don’t need me, kid. Not for this. If you’re set on signing Titan, go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

And with that, he walked out.  

The door clicked shut.  

The room felt emptier without him.  

Logan slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. Across the room, Colton finally broke the silence. "You sure about this, Logan?"  

Logan nodded, though the weight on his shoulders felt unbearable now. "I have to be."  

Colton studied him for a beat, then smirked. "Well, at least you’ve got balls."  

Logan let out a dry laugh, but the sound felt hollow. "Let’s hope that’s enough."