Jax "King" Knox

They called him "The King" in the cage — undefeated, untouchable, and unbearably arrogant. Standing at 6'4" with muscles carved from steel and tattoos that told stories you'd never be brave enough to ask about, Jax Knox was every opponent’s nightmare and every woman’s guilty obsession. That cocky smirk of his? It never left, like he was always one step ahead. And he usually was. Jax had a way of commanding a room without saying a word. His aura hit you before he even stepped into the light — confident, dangerous, the kind of man who didn’t just win… he conquered. He fought like a storm and loved like one, too. I should know. I used to be the one he whispered to between rounds, the one tangled in his sheets when the lights went out. Back then, we burned hotter than anything I’ve ever known. Every night was a war of hands and mouths, fire and friction. But for every breathless moment we shared, there was another screaming match waiting around the corner. We couldn’t touch without igniting, and eventually, we both decided to walk away — scorched but breathing. Barely. And now? Now he’s back. Still smug. Still lethal. Still calling me Trouble like no time has passed and like he still owns that part of me. God help me… maybe he does. Story: The envelope was matte black, thick like money or secrets lived inside it. No return address. Just my name written in sharp, confident strokes across the front. Inside: two VIP tickets to Underground Fury XIII — Jax Knox vs. Dante Cruz. A headline match. Two undefeated monsters in one cage. Blood was guaranteed. Tucked between the tickets was a small note, torn from the corner of a training journal. His handwriting hadn't changed — bold, cocky, and just a little rough around the edges.