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Chapter 17 - UNINVITED LIGHTS

Thomas stopped with his hand on the brass doorknob. His head snapped toward the treeline to the north. His eyes, calm a second ago, narrowed instantly into hard, calculating slits.

Tyler turned around, squinting into the pitch-black lane. "Did you order something?"

"No," Thomas said, his voice dropping an octave into a tone of chilling, tactical command. "Did you tell anyone where you were going?"

Tyler’s face went white. "I... I mentioned to Marcus Cole that I was coming to find you. He wanted to know where the veteran lived to see if we could set up an official exhibition match to salvage the PR. And... and my videographer Kevin was in the office when Dave Miller looked up your address."

"Fool," Thomas hissed.

Down the driveway, two heavy black SUVs—unmarked, tinted windows, heavy brush guards mounted over their grilles—roared up the incline, kicking up sprays of wet dirt and rocks. They didn't slow down politely. They slid into a coordinated flanking formation, blocking Tyler’s sports car against the ditch and shutting down the exit lane completely.

The headlights cut across the porch, washing Thomas and Tyler in brilliant, blinding white halogen glare.

Four doors slammed open simultaneously.

Men stepped out into the mud. They were not tournament fighters in gis, nor were they corporate PR agents with clipboards. These men wore heavy tactical outerwear, utility trousers, and combat boots. Their body language was rigid, professional, and aggressive. Among them stepped a man in a bespoke charcoal overcoat—tall, broad-shouldered, with scarred knuckles and cold, predatory eyes that belonged to someone who managed the dirtier side of high-stakes underground sports promotions.

It was Victor Vancevic, the primary financial backer of the Continental Combat League and the owner of several unlicensed private fighting venues operating along the Pacific Northwest coast.

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"Tyler!" Victor’s deep, accent-tinged voice boomed across the clearing. "You lead us right to the treasure. Good boy."

***

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