Chapter 2: Last Hope

Rome's underground boxing rings reek of sweat, blood, and money.

I stood in the preparation area, looking at the unfamiliar face in the mirror. Seven years on the run had made me much thinner, with a stubble beard and tired eyes. It was hard to imagine that this was once "Death" Marcus Kane.

"Tonight's opponent is 'Buffalo' Carlo." Victor walked over and handed me a bottle of water. "A third-rate boxer. Normally, you could take him down with one punch. But..."

"But I'm going to lose."

"Smart." Victor nodded. "In the third round, pretend to get hit by his right hook, then fall to the ground. Remember, make it look real. The audience paid money; they want to see blood."

I did not answer.

Five years ago, I was invincible in this boxing ring. Every punch could kill, every match was a crushing defeat. Back then, I was known as "The Grim Reaper" because no one could last three rounds against me.

Now, I'm going to deliberately lose to a third-rate bastard.

"How is your daughter?" Victor asked.

"Still alive."

"That's good. As long as you keep obeying, she can live indefinitely." Victor patted my shoulder. "Remember, there are no heroes in this world, only business."

The match has begun.

"Buffalo" Carlo was a two-meter-tall, muscular but clumsy man. As soon as he stepped onto the stage, he began waving his fists and roaring like a savage.

The audience chanted his name wildly.

Nobody remembers me anymore.

In the first round, I easily dodged all his attacks. Every time his fist came flying, I could predict its trajectory and then dodge. It was instinct, an uncontrollable instinct.

"Hit him! Kill this old man!" The audience began to express their dissatisfaction.

In the second round, I began to counterattack. But each punch was deliberately deflected from vital areas, making only slight contact. Carlo thought he had the upper hand and his attacks became even more frenzied.

His boxing style was chaotic and full of flaws. I could easily strike his temple and kill him instantly.

But I can't.

In the third round, Carlo threw a right hook. According to the script, I was supposed to pretend to be hit and then fall to the ground.

But in that instant, Sofia's face flashed through my mind.

She was dying in the iron cage, calling out for her father.

And here I am, performing a failed act like a clown.

My fists clenched involuntarily.

No.

I forced myself to loosen my fist and pretended to be hit by Carlo's attack, falling to the ground.

"one two three!"

The referee began counting.

I lay on the boxing ring, listening to the cheers of the crowd. They were celebrating my defeat, going crazy over the victory of a third-rate boxer.

"ten!"

The match is over.

Carlo raised his hands high, basking in the applause like a true champion. And I, "The Grim Reaper" Marcus Kane, became a stepping stone on his road to fame.

Victor nodded in satisfaction and handed me an envelope.

"Fifty thousand euros. That's enough for your daughter's medication for a month."

I took the envelope without saying a word.

"There are two more games next week. If things continue like this, your daughter can survive." Victor patted me on the shoulder. "Isn't that good?"

I left the boxing ring and walked the streets of Rome late at night.

The phone rang. It was Thompson.

"Marcus, I have bad news." His voice was heavy. "I submitted the application to Federal Judge Williams, but..."

"But what?"

"He refused. Not only that, he destroyed all the evidence, claiming it was all fabricated."

I stopped in my tracks.

"Judge Williams said that any act of aiding and abetting treason is a crime. He warned me that if I took the case again, my law license would be revoked."

"He's been bribed."

"I think so too, Marcus. I'm sorry. I really tried my best."

I hung up the phone and continued walking on the empty street.

Legal avenues are blocked.

I returned to my apartment and checked my bank account on my computer. The Swiss bank still showed it as frozen; not a single penny of the $42 million could be touched.

I then tried contacting several other banks' secret accounts. The result was the same: frozen.

The FBI's reach extends further than I imagined.

At three o'clock in the morning, I received a call from an unknown number.

"Marcus Kane," came Victoria's venomous voice from the phone.

What do you want?

"I want you to know that your daughter vomited a lot of blood again today. The doctor said her condition is deteriorating," Victoria's voice was filled with malice. "But it's okay, I've already prepared a little coffin for her. Pink, perfect for a little girl."

I gripped my phone tightly.

"You beast..."

"A beast?" Victoria laughed. "I was merely upholding justice. A traitor's daughter doesn't deserve to live in this world."

"If you dare to hurt her..."

"What can you do?" Victoria interrupted me. "You rat hiding in the gutter, what can you do besides throwing fights to earn a pittance for medical expenses?"

Sofia's faint cough came through the phone.

"Daddy...where is Daddy..." she called out weakly.

My heart is breaking.

"Did you hear that? She's looking for you. But you'll never come back because you're a coward." Victoria laughed cruelly. "Keep being a loser, Marcus Kane. At least that way, your daughter can live a few more days."

She hung up the phone.

I sat in the dark, staring in the direction of the safe.

The satellite phone is right there.

With just one phone call, Shadow will act. Within 48 hours, they can amass enough firepower to raze the entire city of Las Vegas.

But that also means I will become the enemy of the whole world.

Smith's warning still echoed in my ears: "As long as you don't contact those terrorists, we won't touch your family."

I stood up and walked towards the safe.

My finger lingered on the combination lock for a long time.

In the end, I turned around and left.

There is still time.

There are other ways.

There must be other ways.