The footsteps grew closer.
Two sets—one confident and measured, the other slightly behind and more cautious.
Lucius stood near the medical bed, wearing the compression shirt they'd given him after treatment. His torso was wrapped beneath it, ribs still protesting with each breath. His combat clothes had been cleaned and folded on the chair nearby.
The door opened.
A woman stepped through first.
She stood about five-foot-seven, professional bearing evident in her posture. Black hair fell past her shoulders in maintained waves that spoke of careful attention rather than natural ease. Round-framed glasses sat on a face with sharp features—high cheekbones, defined jawline, the kind of bone structure that photographs well. Blue-gray eyes, intelligent and observant, currently fixed on him with focused intensity.
Dark blue vest over white collared shirt. Professional. Expensive. A small red bow on her collar—the only touch of personal aesthetic in an otherwise corporate presentation.
There was a subtle tension in her expression. Not obvious, but present if you knew to look for it. The bearing of someone who'd learned to hold themselves a certain way regardless of what they actually felt.
Behind her, another woman in an immaculate black suit entered—dark hair in a neat bun, sharp features showing competence and controlled wariness. She positioned herself slightly to the first woman's left.
Lucius's mind worked through the information immediately.
'The mess hall. The evaluator.' His eyes moved between them, noting the professional setup, the timing right after finals concluded. 'District Head's daughter. Has to be.'
Then his eyes returned to the first woman's face.
Recognition hit.
'The rooftop.'
Months ago. The girl searching for her cat. Those same blue-gray eyes, that same carefully maintained composure with something else underneath.
'Rooftop girl is the District Head's daughter.'
He'd thought she was just some wealthy individual at the time. Hadn't realized—
His expression didn't change, but internally he was recalculating that entire encounter.
And now she was here.
The woman's eyes were already on him, studying his face. Her hands rested at her sides, professional, controlled.
'Does she recognize me?' Lucius thought. 'Possible. Hard to tell.'
"King," she said, her voice carrying professional warmth. "I'm Hannah Gibson. District Head's daughter for New Kong."
So that was her name.
"This is my assistant, Charlotte," Hannah continued, gesturing slightly.
Charlotte gave a brief nod, her expression neutral but evaluating.
"You were in the mess hall," Lucius said. "Evaluating fighters."
"I was." Hannah stepped closer, maintaining appropriate professional distance. "I've been observing since Round 3. Your performance has been... impressive."
"Thanks."
"I'm here to make you an offer. A position working for me. As my bodyguard."
Lucius reached for his combat clothes on the chair, began pulling on his pants over the compression shorts. "Not interested."
Hannah blinked. "You haven't heard the terms yet—"
"Doesn't matter."
"Then what does?"
Lucius fastened his pants, then pulled on his shirt. "I prefer working for myself. Freelance. Made substantial money from betting during the tournament. Enough to be comfortable for a while. Don't need employment that comes with constant supervision."
"This isn't about the money—"
"It's about autonomy." Lucius's tone remained even. "Bodyguard positions mean background checks. Monitoring. Loss of privacy. Someone always looking over your shoulder." He looked at her directly. "That's not how I operate."
Hannah's jaw tightened slightly. "And how do you operate?"
"Independently. Take jobs when I want them. Leave when they're done. No strings."
"So people have tried to hire you before?"
"Few times. Different situations. Always the same core offer—resources and protection in exchange for loyalty and compliance." Lucius sat down to put on his boots. "Always turns out to be more complicated than advertised."
Charlotte shifted slightly, her expression sharpening.
Hannah was quiet for a moment, reassessing. "You prefer staying independent even when it's dangerous?"
"Danger's relative."
"Is it?" Her voice carried an edge now. "You made quite an impression here. On people who don't forget easily. People who collect talented individuals for their networks."
Lucius laced his boots methodically. "People move on. Find new interests."
"Not people like Executive Ross."
His hands paused for just a moment on the bootlaces. "The one who sponsored Davis Brown."
"Among others. He's been watching you. Since the tribunal." Hannah's tone grew more serious. "Mike Ross doesn't just observe. He acts. And when he wants someone in his network, he doesn't take no for an answer."
"So your solution is I work for you instead?" Lucius finished lacing and stood.
"My solution is you work for me and certain people can't touch you. Structure. Hierarchy." Hannah's hands moved slightly, then stilled. "It's not perfect, but it's better than being exposed with no protection."
"Appreciate the warning and the offer. But I'll take my chances." Lucius moved toward the door.
"What about Odd?"
He stopped.
Hannah's voice was quieter now. "The fighter from yesterday. The one Adam nearly killed. Odd, wasn't it?"
Lucius turned back slowly. "What about him?"
"Mike Ross doesn't just target the person he wants. He finds leverage. People who matter. Friends. Family." Hannah met his eyes directly. "You might be okay with the risk to yourself. But are you okay with the risk to him? To his daughters?"
"Odd and I aren't friends. Just two guys who happened to meet in a tournament. Might've faced each other if the bracket went differently."
"You're not fooling anyone."
Lucius's expression didn't change. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you forfeited your match with Adam. After dominating completely. After winning." Hannah's voice was firm now. "You gave up the championship to keep a promise. To save Odd's life. People don't do that for strangers. For 'just two guys who happened to meet.'"
The room was quiet.
"You have a code," Hannah continued. "Standards you hold yourself to even when it costs you. That's rare here. Valuable." She paused. "But it also makes you predictable. Mike Ross will figure out what you care about. And he'll use it."
Lucius remained still, processing.
"Work for me, and I can extend protection," Hannah said. "Not just to you. To Odd. To his family. Official protocols. Documented. Even Mike Ross has to respect certain boundaries when it comes to personnel under District Head family protection."
Lucius looked at her directly. At the genuine concern in those blue-gray eyes. At the tension she was trying to keep controlled. At someone who was clearly operating on more than just professional recruitment.
'She recognized me from the rooftop,' he thought. 'This isn't just about my fighting. This is personal for her. Something about that encounter mattered.'
But she wasn't bringing it up. Waiting to see if he would.
He wasn't going to. That complication wasn't necessary.
'Lucius, you son of a bitch,' he thought. 'You've gone and done it again.'
'Shut up,' he told himself.
'Getting people invested. Making them care. Using that leverage—'
'I said shut up.'
But the internal voice had a point. This felt wrong. Like taking advantage. Hannah was offering protection for Odd because she thought it would convince Lucius. And it was working. Which meant using her feelings—whatever she felt from that rooftop encounter—to manipulate the situation.
Exactly what he didn't want to do.
But Odd's daughters. Maya and Ruby. Two kids who needed their father alive.
"I need time to think about it," Lucius said finally.
Hannah's eyes widened slightly. Clearly not the response she'd expected. "Time?"
"To consider properly. Weigh the complications." He looked at her directly. "This isn't a simple decision. Won't treat it like one."
Hannah exchanged a glance with Charlotte, then nodded slowly. "Alright. That's... fair. How much time?"
"Few days. Tournament formalities wrap up soon. I'll have an answer before I leave."
"How will you—" Hannah paused, then seemed to realize. "Right. No personal devices allowed down here."
"Exactly."
Hannah thought for a moment. "There's a lounge area near the main mess hall. I'll be there around 8 PM two days from now. When you're ready, find me there."
Lucius nodded once. "Understood."
"Thank you for considering it," Hannah said, and the genuine relief in her voice was stark. "I mean that."
She moved toward the door, Charlotte following.
Then Hannah paused, looking back. "Whatever you decide... be careful. The attention you've attracted doesn't just fade. Not here."
She left, Charlotte closing the door quietly behind them.
Dr. Lois, who'd remained silent by the wall this entire time, finally spoke. "She's right, you know."
Lucius didn't respond immediately.
"Mike Ross and people like him—they don't let talented individuals just walk away." Dr. Lois moved away from the wall. "They find leverage. Use it. I've worked here long enough to see how it operates. You're talented. Dangerous in ways they find valuable. They won't just let you disappear."
"So you think I should accept?"
"I think you should be very careful whatever you decide." Her expression was serious. "Because either choice has consequences. Accept, and you lose freedom. Decline, and you lose protection. There's no clean answer."
Lucius moved toward the door.
He reached the door, pulled it open.
Then stopped.
Turned back.
Walked back to Dr. Lois.
She looked up at him, curious and wary.
Lucius leaned in close and began speaking quietly, his voice too low for any potential listening devices. Not just a few words—an actual conversation, though one-sided. He spoke for nearly a minute, his tone serious, his words deliberate.
Dr. Lois's eyes widened progressively. Shock. Disbelief. Understanding. More shock.
When Lucius finally straightened, her expression was one of complete astonishment.
"Think about it," he said quietly.
Then he turned and walked out, leaving Dr. Lois standing there, staring after him with her mouth slightly open.
---
Intensive Care Unit - 7:15 PM
Lucius stood outside the observation window, looking into Odd's room.
The father lay unconscious, surrounded by medical equipment. Monitors tracked vitals—heart rate steady, breathing assisted, multiple IVs running. His face was heavily bruised, features swollen. His neck showed dark discoloration from where Adam had been choking him.
But alive. Stable.
A nurse noticed Lucius and approached. "He's doing well, considering. Critical but stable. Should wake up in the next day or two."
"Long-term?"
"Full recovery expected. Takes time, but he should be okay." She checked her tablet. "You're King, right? He asked about you before he went fully unconscious. Wanted to know if you were alright."
Something shifted in Lucius's expression—subtle, but present. "Tell him when he wakes up—he fought well. Tell him his daughters would be proud."
The nurse smiled slightly. "I will."
Lucius remained at the window for another moment, then turned and walked away.
---
TO BE CONTINUED