Chapter 8

"You vanished for ten days just to watch ten days of underground fighting?"

The FBI Director slammed the hard drive on the table, looking at Miller as if he were an idiot.

On the screen, in a lavish club styled like the Roman Colosseum, two masked behemoths were locked in a bloody battle.

It was a brutal cycle: bloody fights at night, rest and training during the day.

"This is your truth? Miller, have you lost your mind?"

Miller, who had hidden in an abandoned warehouse without food or water for ten days just to film this, was now insisting it was evidence.

He ignored the Director's scorn. His bloodshot eyes remained glued to the screen. "Just watch."

He rushed over, his finger trembling as he hit pause, then zoomed in on the image.

And zoomed in again.

Until the back of the neck of one of the fighters, a man called "the Beast," filled the entire screen.

The fighter was being ground into the mat by his opponent, sweat and blood washing over his skin.

On the back of his neck was a twist