From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 151

When Max arrived at the meeting spot, he wasn't alone.

Wolf was already there, waiting like they'd agreed the day before. But something was... off. It took Max half a second to realize it wasn't Wolf himself. It was what he was wearing.

Wolf noticed the look.

"What?" he said, shrugging. "I can't risk giving myself away, right? Us Pit members have a look. So I figured I'd wear the exact opposite of it."

He motioned to the woolly jumper he was wearing, even though it was mid-spring and definitely not sweater weather. He had on loose brown trousers and, topping it off, a pair of round, fake glasses that made him look like a professor from some low-budget mystery drama.

"The glasses are too much," Max said, deadpan. "Actually, all of it's too much. But start by ditching the glasses."

Wolf sighed and pulled them off, tucking them into his pocket.

Just like last time, the car arrived right on cue, sleek, expensive, and clearly designed to impress. The whole over-the-top, luxury aesthetic screamed still trying to win Max over. But there was one key difference this time.

It wasn't the same car, it was a BBW, still high-end, but not quite the show-off model from before. And when they slid into the backseat, there was only one other person waiting for them.

Dud.

The moment he laid eyes on Wolf, he didn't even try to hide his reaction.

"What the heck are you wearing?" he blurted. "Is your plan to get beat up for charity or something?"

"It's the weekend," Wolf said casually, reaching for the glasses that weren't there, then stopping mid-motion as he remembered Max made him take them off.

"This is how I dress on weekends."

Dud just shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

The setup was familiar, same kind of job, same kind of tension, but the people were different. The backup this time was a new crew, smaller in size and unfamiliar. Max and Wolf didn't recognize a single face.

They weren't at some back alley or grimy warehouse this time, either. This place was fancier, a restaurant inside a larger commercial building, nestled on the fourth floor. Offices surrounded it. It felt more corporate, but that only made things feel more off.

"We've had to spread our forces out," Dud explained as they approached the building. "Multiple hits at once. Turns out the Chalkline boys aren't dumb enough to just sit around and wait. So this is us adapting."

He stopped at the elevator, pressing the call button with a sigh.

"Which means we're gonna be relying on your manpower more from now on. So try not to lose a finger. Or a hand. I'm not picking up that crap for you unless it's got a ring on it."

The routine was the same as before, storm the restaurant, shut it down, and clean house.

Only this time, Dud didn't wait for the guests to leave. He walked in and started swinging.

The chaos spread instantly. Screams. Chairs crashing. People scrambling to get out. In the end, the result was the same, the place cleared itself.

But Dud hadn't been lying earlier. With fewer backup members this time, both Max and Wolf had to get their hands dirty fast. There was no easing into it, they were thrown right into the deep end.

Max didn't mind. Not even a little.

He welcomed the pressure. Every punch, every move, every bit of the adrenaline-fueled rhythm, it was waking something up inside him. Something old. Something sharp. The instincts were coming back. Muscle memory. Flow. Power.

He moved like he belonged in the fight.

One opponent swung. Max blocked and countered without thinking. Another charged him, he slammed them into a table. A third came from the side, but Max spun, ducked, and cracked the guy across the jaw.

He backed himself against a wall, tightening his position so he only had to deal with what was in front of him. It was efficient. Brutal. Precise.

Wolf wasn't far off, holding his own with the kind of unpredictable style that kept people guessing, and bleeding.

The current members of the Rejected Crops watched the two of them work. Some of these guys had never seen Max or Wolf in action before. Now, they couldn't look away.

When the last opponent hit the floor, the outcome was obvious.

Another win. And a surprisingly easy one, all things considered.

"I'll think about it," Max said, nodding slowly. "The offer's... really good. And honestly? I enjoy being here. But I'm not sure I'm ready for full-time yet. There's only one more year of school, it'd feel weird to quit now, you know?"

Chrono didn't say a word.

He just twirled his fingers together, looking thoughtful, or at least trying to seem like it, then turned his gaze to Wolf.

Waiting.

Wolf gave a lazy shrug and pointed at Max. "I'm following him," he said simply. "He's the reason I'm even in this life. He's the one who recommended me to you. So wherever he goes, I'm going too."

Max thought it was a decent answer. It pushed the attention back on him but without sounding like a flat-out rejection. Clean. Low drama. But still… he didn't like the way Chrono was looking at them.

The smile was gone.

"Both of you, feel free to head home," Chrono said, waving a hand like he was dismissing kids from detention.

Max didn't need to be told twice. The tone in Chrono's voice said enough, he was not happy.

Once the two were out of sight, Chrono turned toward Na, who had been standing quietly beside him the whole time.

"What do you think of Max?" Chrono asked, his eyes still on the door. "It felt like he was dodging my offer."

"I believe so too," Na replied coolly. "And… there's been talk. Some of the other members have started complaining about the favoritism you're showing him. The higher pay. The luxury. The attention."

Chrono's tone sharpened. "So you think I'm making a mistake?"

"Of course not, sir," Na said quickly. "But if we're investing this many resources into one person, money, image, trust, we need to make sure it pays off. Maybe…"

He paused just long enough to make it matter.

"Maybe we find a way to control him. Just in case things… get out of hand."