Chase Hendrix's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Chase Hendrix wanted one thing in the swamp: to fight the warlord who ruled the arena and take his crown. But the gate guards laughed him off the boardwalk. No sponsor, no name, no fight. Chase gripped the wet railing and watched the arena torches burn across the water. He had trained six years for this. A jaw like a brick and lungs like bellows meant nothing without a man to vouch for him. So he went to find the one man who owed him. Mac Ledger kept his books in a crooked hut on stilts. Keys and rusted locks hung off every board like dead fish. Inside, the bookkeeper hunched over a ledger, sweating through his shirt, adding the same column three times. He had lost a fortune once, and Chase had pulled him out of a debt collector's grip before the man could break his fingers. "Chase." Mac shoved his glasses up his nose. "Whatever it is, I don't have money." "Not money. I need your name." Chase leaned in. "You keep the arena's books. Charlie Blackmire trusts you. Vouch for me." Mac went pale. "You want me to sponsor a fighter to Blackmire? He'd skin me." "You'd be dead in an alley if not for me," Chase said. "I'm calling it in." Mac stared at his ledger a long moment. Then he closed it. "One favor. Then we're square." They crossed the water to the arena gate. The keeper waited there, a short, broad man in a horned helmet, arms crossed over a leather vest. Charlie Blackmire's eyes moved from Mac to Chase and back. "Bookkeeper," Charlie said. "You bringing me meat?" Mac's voice shook, but he said it. "He fights under my name. I vouch for him." Charlie grinned. He looked Chase up and down, poked his chest, felt the muscle. "Big. Square. Loud." He spat over the rail. "Fine. You're on the roster." Chase's heart pounded. He was in. Six years, and he was finally in. Then Charlie's grin widened. He set a heavy hand on Mac's shoulder. "But a sponsor bleeds when his fighter loses, bookkeeper. Old rule. Your man loses his first bout, you pay the house purse. In full." Mac swayed. "How much is the purse?" Charlie named a number. Mac's knees buckled, and Chase caught his arm. It was triple the debt Mac had just crawled out of. Triple what he'd ever owned. "I can't pay that," Mac whispered. "Chase, I can't." "You won't have to," Chase said. "Because I won't lose." But he heard the crowd roar inside for the last fighter carried out on a board. His first opponent was already in the ring, undefeated, waiting. Chase had his spot on the roster. He had also just bet his friend's life on a fight he hadn't seen coming.