---
Chapter 8: The Weight of Blood
The warehouse buzzed with chaos. The stench of sweat, beer, and blood hung in the air like a heavy fog, choking the fighters and spectators alike. Lex Navarro sat on a wooden bench in the corner of the locker room, his mind quiet and focused despite the cacophony outside. He could hear the crowd roaring as another match ended, their bloodlust palpable.
Tomas stood beside him, wrapping his hands with fresh tape. The old trainer's face was grim, his eyes scanning Lex for any sign of hesitation.
"Your next opponent isn't just tough," Tomas said, pulling the tape taut. "He's dangerous. Name's Arturo. He's a year older than you, a foot taller, and mean as hell. They call him 'El Lobo' for a reason."
Lex glanced at Tomas. "What reason?"
"Because he doesn't stop until his opponent is down," Tomas replied. "For good."
Lex nodded, absorbing the information like a sponge. His body ached from the last fight, but the fire inside him burned brighter than ever. He wasn't just fighting for survival anymore—he was fighting for dominance.
---
Entering the Ring
The crowd erupted into deafening cheers as Lex stepped into the ring. Across from him, Arturo "El Lobo" stood like a tower of muscle and aggression. His shaved head gleamed under the flickering light, and a jagged scar ran down his left arm.
Arturo sneered when he saw Lex. "You're smaller than I expected," he said, cracking his knuckles.
Lex ignored the taunt, slipping into his stance. His hands were high, his feet steady, his mind already calculating Arturo's reach and movement. The bell rang, and the fight began.
---
Arturo came out swinging, his massive fists cutting through the air like sledgehammers. Lex ducked the first punch and sidestepped the second, but Arturo was relentless. He drove Lex into the ropes with sheer brute force, his punches hammering Lex's arms and ribs.
Pain exploded through Lex's body, but he held his ground, using the ropes to absorb some of the impact. He saw the opening when Arturo overcommitted to a wild hook, leaving his side exposed. Lex countered with a sharp jab to the ribs, followed by a quick uppercut to the jaw.
Arturo staggered back, his eyes flashing with rage. The crowd roared, sensing a shift in momentum.
Lex pressed the attack, staying low and targeting Arturo's midsection. Each punch landed with precision, chipping away at the bigger fighter's stamina. But Arturo wasn't done. With a guttural growl, he swung a massive haymaker that connected with Lex's shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The referee moved to separate them, giving Lex a chance to get back on his feet. His vision blurred, but his focus remained razor-sharp. This wasn't just a fight—it was a war.
---
As the match wore on, the tension in the warehouse reached a boiling point. The crowd's cheers turned to angry shouts when a group of drunken gangsters began heckling the referee. They belonged to a rival cartel, their presence a calculated move to intimidate Los Soles.
One of them, a burly man with bloodshot eyes and a gun tucked into his waistband, stumbled toward the ring. "Call it in favor of my boy!" he slurred, pointing at Arturo.
The referee ignored him, his focus on the fighters. This only enraged the gangster, who climbed onto the apron, shouting obscenities.
"Get out of here!" Tomas yelled from the sidelines, but the man pulled his gun, aiming it at the referee.
The sound of the gunshot shattered the warehouse's frenzy, silencing the crowd. The referee collapsed to the mat, blood pooling beneath him. Chaos erupted as spectators scrambled for the exits, gangsters drew weapons, and the ring became a battleground.
---
Arturo took advantage of the chaos, charging at Lex with a feral roar. Lex ducked under the attack, his instincts honed by hours of training. He grabbed a loose board from the edge of the ring, swinging it with all his strength. The improvised weapon cracked against Arturo's head, sending him crashing to the mat.
But Arturo wasn't unconscious. He lunged at Lex again, his face a mask of blood and fury. Lex dodged and brought the board down on Arturo's skull a second time. This time, Arturo didn't get up.
Lex stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. Blood dripped from the board, staining the canvas beneath him.
The burly gangster who had killed the referee turned his attention to Lex, his gun still raised. "You think you're tough, kid?" he sneered, stepping into the ring.
Lex didn't think—he acted. Grabbing the referee's metal stool, he hurled it at the gangster's hand, knocking the gun loose. The crowd gasped as Lex lunged forward, tackling the man to the ground.
The fight was brutal and fast. Lex's fists found their mark again and again, his rage fueling every blow. When it was over, the gangster lay motionless on the mat, his face unrecognizable.
---
The warehouse fell into a stunned silence. Lex stood in the center of the ring, his body covered in blood—some his own, some not. Marco was the first to break the silence, clapping slowly as he stepped into the ring.
"Well done, Navarro," he said, a twisted grin on his face. "You just earned your place with us."
Lex didn't respond. He looked down at his bloodied hands, his mind replaying the moment he had taken a life. It wasn't regret he felt—it was something darker.
As Tomas led him out of the warehouse, Lex knew he had crossed a line. There was no going back now.
---