Oscar and Miranda shared a pleasant moment, laughing and chatting as if the outside world did not exist. But deep down, Miranda knew that time was slipping away.
"Oscar, I think you should go," he said, his voice heavy with concern. Brown heard that you came here and has sent to monitor this area more often. What will we do if they find you here again?
"Yes, you're right," Oscar replied, his expression turning serious. If they saw me here, it would only complicate things more. It was a pleasure being with you.
He stood up, and the air between them became thick with the impending farewell. They said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, a simple but meaningful gesture. Oscar felt a knot in his stomach as he walked away, each step towards the door echoing with the sadness of what he was leaving behind.
As he left the house, the weight of the outside world hit him like a cold winter wind. He walked slowly towards his apartment, reflecting on what that brief encounter had meant.
As he walked through the streets, the sound of his phone broke the silence. It was his representative, David. Oscar took out his device and answered the call, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination.
—Oscar, do you have everything ready and prepared? Remember that our bus leaves at 9:00 pm and it's already 5:00," David said, his urgent voice echoing in Oscar's ears.
Oscar sighed, aware of the weight of the decision he had to make.
—No, I can't leave. "Sorry, I'll have to stay a little longer," Oscar replied.
David's frustration was palpable on the other end of the line.
—What the hell is wrong with you? You know what it cost me to get this. Now that you have the opportunity, will you waste it? David exclaimed, his tone full of disbelief.
Oscar felt a whirlwind inside him. On the one hand, there was the excitement and connection he had found in those brief moments with Miranda; on the other, the relentless pressure of his career. Was it selfish to want more time for himself?
—Hey, relax, David. "I'm a little frustrated too," Oscar said, trying to find a way to smooth the conversation. —Is there a possibility of changing the trip? Are there tickets for another day?
David took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
—I think the last day the bus runs is Wednesday. But as your representative, I advise you to leave as soon as possible.
A defiant smile crossed Oscar's face, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the frustration.
—But there is another day. Change the ticket for Wednesday; We'll go out then. Today is Sunday, only 3 days left. "I will do my best to arrive on time," he stated with determination.
David paused, as if weighing Oscar's words.
—Okay, I'll change them. But I hope this time it's final," David said before hanging up, his tone still heavy with concern.
Oscar stared at his phone for a few moments after hanging up, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. He had made a decision, but would it have been the right one?
Meanwhile, in Thomas Brown's club, the music pulsed softly behind the walls. Jhon Bell entered the private room, the air thick with nervousness. I knew every word counted.
"Excuse me, boss, sorry for interrupting you," Jhon said, as he closed the door behind him. I bring you good news.
Brown stood up from his seat, his expression changing to a mix of curiosity and caution. He walked towards Jhon with his arms crossed behind his back, his authoritative stance reflecting his power in the room.
—Perfect, tell me what it is about. "I hope it really is good news," Brown decreed, his grave tone echoing through the room.
Jhon felt a slight relief when he noticed the boss's attention. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.
"I've gotten what you asked for..." Jhon began, feeling the tension rising in the air. We get information about the man who ordered, the one who bothers Miranda.
Brown raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on Jhon like a hawk stalking its prey.
—His name is Oscar Cooper. He was a UFC fighter... He lifted the title once.
—So Oscar Cooper... A fighter? said Brown, his lips curling into a wry smile. I see, no wonder he hit you easily.
Jhon swallowed nervously, but continued: —Yes, that's right. But that's not all. According to sources, Oscar Cooper is wanted by police after beating his former manager to death. According to the news, he died in the hospital after Oscar's attack. And we find out that he is not from this city; It comes from a place that is about seven hours from here.
Brown sat back down, leaning back in his chair, letting the information sink in. His expression changed to a mix of interest and satisfaction.
—How interesting... I congratulate you, Jhon. Since he's a fugitive... That changes things. A violent and savage murderer. What will Miranda say when she finds out that Oscar is all that? —Brown said with a calculating smile, as if he were already hatching a plan.
John felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw the spark in Brown's eyes.
In another part of the city, Oscar was in his apartment, already at night. The flickering city lights illuminated his window, but he was focused on his training.
"Twenty-four... twenty-five..." he counted quietly, feeling his muscles burn. —Pff, it's been a long time since I did one-arm push-ups. I finally finished this series of exercises.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and stretched, enjoying the feeling of the moment.
"Now I will bathe and go to sleep in the name of the Lord," Oscar murmured, as if saying those words would bring him some peace.
After a quick shower, he lay down on his bed. He looked at the ceiling, lost in thought.
"There are only three days left..." he whispered before closing his eyes, excitement and anxiety mixing inside him as he drifted off to sleep.
Monday morning.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating Oscar's room. He stretched out on the bed, feeling the energy of the new day.
He stood up and began arranging his bed, each movement almost automatic. As he gathered his clothes, he thought about what awaited him.
"I have to go to the club," Oscar said, his voice still heavy with sleep, but with a flash of determination.
Without thinking twice, he left the apartment. The fresh morning air gave him a little boost, and he felt the adrenaline begin to rush through his veins. He walked quickly, enjoying the bustle of the city awakening around him, each step bringing him closer to his goal.
Finally, Oscar arrived at the club and placed his foot firmly on the threshold. With every step he took, the atmosphere changed; The air became dense, charged with energy and secrets.
Two guards at the entrance looked at him with disdain.
—It's you again. You are prohibited from coming here. "Go away," said one of them, crossing his arms like a wall.
"I'm just here to talk to your boss," Oscar responded, his voice firm but with an undertone of nervousness that he tried to hide.
The guard gave a mocking laugh. —He doesn't want to see you. Get out of here.
Oscar stood there, his determination growing as he felt the guards' defiant gaze. He wasn't going to leave so easily.
—Don't you understand? —he said, looking at his companion with suppressed fury—. Let's kick him out of here.
The other guard smiled, a spark of amusement in his eyes. But Oscar wasn't going to let them intimidate him.
They approached Oscar slowly, the calm atmosphere of the club contrasting with the tension growing between them. In the mornings, the place was deserted, like an empty stage waiting for the performance.
Suddenly, one of the men swung a quick fist at Oscar. With sharp reflexes, Oscar contained the blow with the palm of his hand, feeling the force of the impact. Without wasting time, he clenched the attacker's fist and, with an agile movement, kicked him directly in the stomach.
The sound of air being expelled was almost deafening as the man collapsed, flying backwards. He slid across the floor and crashed into a nearby table; The drinks flew into the air, drenching him in alcohol and ice.
The calm of the club was broken for a moment.
-Bastard! The remaining man shouted, his voice full of rage.
Without hesitation, he attacked Oscar with a rapid combination of punches and kicks, but Oscar moved like a shadow, dodging each attempt with ease. The energy of the confrontation grew, and the air felt charged with adrenaline.
The man stopped, drawing back his fist as if he were channeling all of his strength into a single devastating blow. With a battle cry, he thrust his fist forward, but Oscar did not move. Instead, he hardened his abdomen, prepared to receive the impact.
The blow connected with a dull sound; Oscar had received worse. The sensation of pain was familiar, almost comforting in the midst of the chaos.
It was his turn. With a lightning movement, Oscar launched a hook straight into the aggressor's face. The impact was brutal, sending the man flying backwards. He collided with a table with a deafening crunch, the wood breaking under his weight like paper.
The echo of the roar echoed through the empty club, filling it with palpable energy. Oscar took a deep breath and closed his eyes, seeking a moment of peace after the brief confrontation. But that calm was interrupted by a resounding applause that brought him out of his meditation.
He opened his eyes quickly, scanning the place until his gaze met Thomas Brown, who was approaching with a serious expression on his face, slowly clapping his hands.
"Bravo, bravisimo," said Brown, his tone laden with irony. Do you think you can come to my club like it's nothing? Cause chaos and break things?
Oscar felt the adrenaline begin to fade.
—I didn't want to do it, but it was inevitable. "They asked for it," Oscar clarified.
The tension between them was palpable; but... Why did Oscar go to Thomas Brown's club?