His opponent, a mountain of a man named Viktor, threw a haymaker that could have decapitated a bull. Elias didn’t flinch. He slipped the punch by a fraction of an inch, the wind of the glove whistling past his ear. In that heartbeat of overextension, Elias saw it: the opening.

But the real "counterpunch" didn't happen in the ring. It happened two weeks later.

Elias didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He just handed Vane a small, manila envelope. "What's this? A bribe?" Vane laughed, tearing it open.

"Time to pack up, Ghost," Vane sneered. "The momentum is all mine."