Page 165 of Reckless Obsession

He lifts a brow. “What does it look like, Tristan?”

“I’m asking why you’re showing me.”

“The men in those videos are dead.”

The statement settles between us, heavy and calculated. I force myself to breathe once, slowly, before answering.

“Before every Circuit match, both fighters sign a death waiver. They know the risks. They agree to them.”

Jake’s smile widens.

“That’s the interesting part.” He leans forward slightly. “None of those three signed.”

For a moment, I only stare at him.

The irritation I felt when he walked into my office changes shape. It becomes colder. A lawyer’s instinct, taking over before panic gets the chance.

“What do you mean?”

He gives a soft, mocking laugh. “You don’t understand English now?”

“Careful.”

“Maksim killed those men,” Jake says. “None of them made it out of that ring alive, and none of them signed the paperwork that makes their deaths legally defensible.”

He picks up his phone and turns it once in his hand as if it holds nothing more consequential than a calendar reminder.

“So tell me,” he raises a brow. “How long has the Petrov family’s golden lawyer been sleeping with their golden son—the one who kills people off the books?”

I don’t answer.

Not yet.

The room tightens around us. Outside the glass, the city keeps moving, indifferent to the fact that the ground beneath my feet has shifted.

“Cameras are prohibited at the Elite Circuit,” I say. My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “They are never allowed in. How did you get that footage?”

“I have my ways.”

He shrugs.

My hands curl into fists beneath the desk.

His ways.

The answer is too easy. Too practiced.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Jake says nothing. He only watches me, that smug, victorious look in his eyes making something dangerous stir beneath my skin.

Then the pieces fall into place.

Not all of them, but enough.

“Did you set him up?”

Jake’s smile becomes almost lazy.