The Voice Makes His Pitch

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the cracked asphalt. Cade Mercer stepped out of Ironworks Gym, sweat clinging to his skin, the scent of rubber and chalk still thick in the air. Another session done. Another step forward.

Then—he heard it. The low hum of an idling SUV. Black, sleek, tinted windows catching the last of the sunlight. Three men stood beside it—polished shoes, crisp suits, the sharp bite of expensive cologne out of place in the gym’s musk.

Clayton Reed.

Cade exhaled, slow and steady. He knew this was coming. Clayton approached first, his easy grin firmly in place, the kind of expression that made people think he was their friend before they even knew him. Behind him, Ethan Carter and Brent Norris stood slightly apart, their presence silent but calculated.

"Been trying to reach you, Cade," Clayton said smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his jacket like this was his arena, not Cade’s.

Cade dropped his bag into the back of his battered pickup, not bothering to look at them.

"I know."

Clayton laughed like it was a joke between old friends. "And yet, here we are."

Ethan smirked, arms crossed. Brent, as always, said nothing, but his watchful eyes gave Cade the same once-over he had the night of the championship.

Cade turned, finally facing them, his stance firm, arms crossed over his chest. "What do you want?"

Clayton chuckled, shaking his head. "Straight to business. I like that."

A pause. The air between them stretched.

Then Clayton’s tone dropped, the salesman charm fading just slightly. "I'm here to offer you something, Cade. Something real."

Cade arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? And what’s that?"

Clayton took a step closer. "The world."

For the first time, Cade gave him his full attention.

Clayton’s voice was softer now, but precise, every word a calculated hook. "Size. Skill. Presence. You could dominate—football, wrestling, MMA—hell, all three. But here’s the truth, Cade. Talent alone doesn’t cut it. You need someone who knows the game. Someone who opens doors before you even see them."

Cade let the words sit for a beat before responding, his voice flat. "And that’s you?"

Clayton didn’t hesitate. "It is."

Behind him, Ethan chimed in, his tone cocky. "You’ve got the tools, kid. We’re just here to sharpen ‘em."

Brent finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Clayton doesn’t waste time on people who don’t have it. If he’s standing in front of you, it’s because you’re the real deal."

Cade's gaze flicked between them. He saw what they were doing.

Surrounding him. Pressuring him.

He didn’t like it.

"And what’s in it for you?" he asked.

Clayton grinned, the shark emerging from beneath the charm. "Money. Power. Influence. Same things you’ll get. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend this is some noble calling. You win, I win. But the difference between me and the other vultures circling you?" He leaned in just slightly. "I’m willing to bet on you first."

Cade’s expression didn’t change, but Clayton knew hesitation when he saw it. Time to play his next card.

"Tell you what," he said, shifting gears. "First thing we do? Get you a new car. Something that doesn’t look like it belongs in a junkyard." He gestured toward Cade’s truck with mock sympathy. "No offense, of course."

Cade rolled his eyes.

"And while we’re at it," Clayton added, voice light but firm, "we’ll get you a proper suit. Important people wear suits, Cade. And you? You’re about to become very important."

Cade smirked at that. Finally, a flicker of emotion.

He leaned back against the truck, arms still crossed, but that faint smirk lingered. Clayton had his opening.

"Look, kid," Clayton said, softening his tone. "I know you’ve got options. Maybe you’re thinking about football, basketball. Maybe wrestling or MMA. You don’t have to decide today. But whatever path you take, you need someone who knows how to play the game. That’s me."

A silence stretched between them.

Cade glanced down at the ground, jaw tightening. He didn’t trust Clayton. But there was something dangerously compelling about him.

He wanted to say no. He really did.

But the idea of being more than just another name on a roster had already started to sink in.

Clayton took a step back toward the SUV, sensing the moment. "You’re not gonna trust me right away. That’s fine. But you’ll see soon enough, Cade."

His voice was quiet now, almost conspiratorial.

"Monsters don’t wait. They take."

He gave Cade a nod before turning and walking back to the SUV, his associates following closely behind. Ethan glanced back once, still smirking. Brent gave a small, approving nod.

Cade watched them go, the seed was planted.

And as the black SUV disappeared down the road, Cade climbed into his truck, gripping the steering wheel tightly. For the first time, the road ahead wasn’t just a choice. It was a gamble.