EPISODE 2
1480 Words
Closing Hook
Across the city, high above glittering towers of steel and glass, Luciano De Luca sat alone in his penthouse.
The room was dark, save for the bluish glow of the fight footage playing on a massive screen. Over and over again, he watched the moment—the exact moment—when the fighter looked up at the camera. When their eyes seemed to meet across a sea of metal and glass.
That smirk.
That calm.
That predator’s stillness.
Luciano’s fingers twitched against the armrest.
He leaned forward, pausing the footage at that precise frame—Jax’s face bloodied but calm, eyes gleaming like he knew exactly who was watching.
Luciano stared at the image in silence, cigarette forgotten between his fingers.
Then, with a slow breath and a faint smile that held more danger than warmth, he whispered to the screen:
“You’re not just a fighter… are you?”
The First Unraveling.
The Fracture Beneath the Surface
Morning.
Light streams in through the half-open blinds. Damon is still asleep, sprawled across the sheets like nothing is wrong.
Jax stands at the stove, frying eggs in silence—but his mind is elsewhere.
On the scent of another man’s cologne.
On the slightly smudged lip gloss on Damon’s collar.
On the faint scratch behind his ear that wasn’t there yesterday.
“Morning,” Damon says, walking up behind him, arms sliding around his waist. “You were gone when I woke up.”
Jax smiles faintly, tilting his head just enough. “Couldn’t sleep. Was thinking about last night.”
Damon presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You were amazing. Scared me a little with all the blood, though.”
“Mm.” Jax flips the eggs. Calm. Measured. Calculating.
His phone buzzes.
Encrypted message from Kael Archives:
“Surveillance audio from Damon’s last 72 hours attached. Proceed?”
He glances at Damon, who’s now humming a tune in the background, completely unaware.
Jax taps YES.
The audio begins to play through his earpiece. Moaning. Laughter. His best friend’s voice. Damon’s voice. Overlapping. Tangled in betrayal.
A pause.
Then Damon's voice, clear as day:
“He’d never find out. Jax is too busy bleeding in that ring to notice what’s right in front of him.”
Jax's hand tightens around the spatula.
But his voice remains soft. Controlled.
“Want coffee?” he asks.
Damon nods, smiling.
Jax smiles back.
But something in him has started to shift.
---
A Web of Smoke and Secrets
Elsewhere in the city, Luciano leans against the black marble counter of his private study, a whiskey in hand. His mind hasn’t stopped replaying that moment—when Jax looked directly into the camera. Saw him. Knew him. Without ever meeting.
He taps the crystal glass once against the counter.
“Find out everything about him,” he says, eyes locked on the paused footage.
His lieutenant—Niccolo—frowns. “Already tried. ‘Jax’ has no birth records, no ID trail before three years ago. Everything leads to dead ends.”
Luciano’s jaw ticks. “A no body don’t fight like that. That precision? That rage hiding under control? That’s training. Not survival.”
He turns, pacing slowly.
“Dig deeper. Underground registries. Legacy codes. Look into Kael Holdings—there’s chatter about a power shift. Someone new pulling strings.”
Niccolo pauses. “You think he’s connected?”
Luciano Shakes his head. “I don’t know, Nic. I just want you to check it out it.”
He walks to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the streets below.
“Power like that doesn’t stay buried forever. Eventually, it rises. Bleeds through the cracks.”
He raises his glass, as if toasting to the idea.
“To whoever he is… I’m going to find him. And when I do…”
A beat.
“I’ll know whether I want to ruin him—or crown him.”
The Unseen Web
Jax’s Apartment – Late Afternoon
The sun is sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows in the room. Jax sits at the kitchen table, the soft hum of a laptop filling the space. He’s staring at the screen, but his mind isn’t there. His eyes are distant, clouded with the knowledge he’s piecing together.
Behind him, Damon moves around the apartment, completely oblivious to the growing storm inside Jax. There’s an unsettling calm in Jax’s movements as he continues his research, his fingers tapping the keys with practiced ease.
Then, his phone buzzes. It’s a message from an unknown number.
“He’s meeting tonight. Same place. Same time.”
Jax’s lips curl into a cold smile. His fingers hover over the screen, but before he hits reply, he hears Damon’s footsteps behind him. The unmistakable sound of a fake smile in his voice.
“Hey, babe. I was thinking, we could go out tonight—celebrate the win, you know?” Damon says, his tone lighter than it’s ever been.
Jax doesn’t turn. He doesn’t even blink.
“You’ve been drinking, Damon?” Jax’s voice is like velvet, smooth and chilling.
A pause.
Damon stumbles, clearly caught off guard. “I—I wasn’t. Just a couple of shots.”
“Go take a shower,” Jax orders, finally turning around. He locks eyes with Damon, the faintest glint of calculation in his gaze. “I’ll be waiting.”
Damon hesitates, his pulse quickening under Jax’s cold stare, but nods and retreats to the bathroom.
The second Damon steps into the bathroom, Jax is already gone hoping to be back before he finishes.
---
Luciano’s Puppet Strings
Underground Club – Same Time
Luciano’s private investigator steps into the dimly lit club, blending in with the shadows as he watches Jax from a distance. There’s no sign of him yet, but the atmosphere in the club feels tense, as if everyone’s waiting for something—someone.
The investigator knows what he’s looking for. Jax, disguised under a hood, leans against the bar, an aura of power cloaking him like a second skin. He looks completely out of place in this underworld setting, yet entirely at ease. Eyes like steel—nothing escapes his notice.
Luciano’s investigator makes his move, sliding into the seat beside Jax. His presence is unnoticed—intended to stay that way.
“So, we finally meet,” the investigator says, leaning forward with a casual grin.
Jax’s eyes flicker toward him, just for a second. No words. Nothing.
Then, with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Jax speaks. “What do you want?”
The investigator doesn’t seem fazed by the cold reception. He’s used to it. “Just keeping an eye on you, is all. Luciano’s orders. He’s… intrigued by you.”
Jax takes a long drag from his drink, studying the man. He knows the game all too well.
“If Luciano wants something from me, he knows where to find me,” Jax says, his voice low and controlled.
The investigator smirks. “I’m just here to deliver a message. That’s all. He’s not someone you want as an enemy.”
Jax watches the man carefully, measuring him. For a moment, there’s silence between them.
“I’m not afraid of enemies,” Jax says flatly. “But if Luciano’s trying to play me… he’ll lose. Just like everyone else.”
He rises from his seat, leaving the investigator with the faintest hint of unease.
The investigator watches him leave, nodding slightly as he taps a message into his phone.
---
The Moment of Truth
Back at Jax’s apartment, Damon is still in the shower, the sound of water splashing echoing through the bathroom. Jax enters the, house and into the closet with a purposeful step. His fingers graze the cold metal of his father's ring, resting among old family heirlooms, but he doesn’t take it out. Not yet.
Instead, he opens the hidden drawer—a place where he keeps his personal ledger, encrypted with financial data from a network no one would dare dream exists. The Kael Holdings legacy. His father’s empire. A trillion-dollar dynasty, buried beneath layers of secrecy.
A series of names scrolls across the screen. Encrypted business deals. Shell corporations. Deals in blood. Everything Jax controls from the shadows. But there’s something new.
A fresh name in the ledger: Luciano DeMarco.
Jax’s fingers freeze, his eyes narrowing.
Luciano knows.
A slow, menacing smile curls on his lips as he closes the laptop. This game—this dangerous dance—is only beginning. And Jax will make sure it’s on his terms.
---
Closing Hook:
Luciano’s Study
Luciano sits back in his chair, watching Jax’s every move through the private surveillance footage. He traces a finger along the rim of his glass, his expression unreadable.
“Let the games begin,” he murmurs, before clicking off the screen.
---
- Writer
