From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180: A little Bet?

The evening of the bout had finally arrived, and the students of Brinhurst could feel it, an electric buzz in the air that danced along their skin like static.

When was the last time an event like this had happened? Something open, public, and talked about by practically every school from east to west? It had been too long, which was exactly why no one wanted to miss it, whether the rumors were real or not.

Every school, regardless of their side or allegiance, had shown up to witness it.

The location of the event was a familiar place: the Court. It sat just beyond the edge of Brinhurst, nestled beside the sea. A wide track looped around the area, the kind people used for running laps or walking with friends. And in the center of it all was a battered old basketball court, caged in with metal fencing and worn lines that had faded from years of scuffed sneakers.

Normally, it was a place where kids shot hoops or hung around after school, but tonight, it was the stage.

Most of the delinquents from West Brinhurst had already arrived. But rather than cause any trouble or make a scene, they’d chosen to stay on the sidelines, observing in silence. Some had even left shortly after arriving, not wanting to start a mess before things really began.

Students from all over were beginning to surround the outside of the basketball cage, trying to claim the best viewing spots for the upcoming fight. The anticipation was thick enough to taste.

Because it was summertime, even though it was already 6 p.m., the sun still lingered in the sky, bathing everything in a warm golden glow. Each school had brought around eight students, give or take. They didn’t want to risk getting reported for overcrowding, and the leaders had made sure things stayed under control.

Eventually, the students from East Brinhurst started showing up. And not just any students, these were from the Clapton Alliance.

They arrived in coordinated groups, each one moving with the kind of quiet confidence that drew attention. No loud entrances, no shouting. Just nods, short and sharp, toward the other delinquent factions already gathered. There was a silent acknowledgment, a mutual understanding: tonight was important.

Whispers spread like wildfire. Small conversations sparked between groups as eyes scanned the crowd, picking out familiar faces, rivals, and names that had become stories.

Then, finally, Clapton himself arrived, along with Rick.

"What the heck!" Rick snarled, spitting on the pavement as he looked around. "We’re here before any of the other guys even show up? And he’s the one who organized this whole damn thing? He’s gonna make us wait?"

"Maybe he ran off scared," one of the guys muttered with a shrug.

"Hey, but look over there," another pointed out. "Those guys, those are the ones from Brinhurst. The Black and White."

The comment was directed at the two groups who ruled all of West Brinhurst.

There was a reason they hadn’t gotten too involved with the East before, because their own turf was already a battlefield.

Just like in the East, the schools in the West had been constantly clashing, locked in an endless back-and-forth of fights and feuds. But over time, two individuals had managed to rise above the chaos, rallying a large number of schools under their banners.

The first was a guy named Print, known for his short buzz-cut hair and the heavy black leather jacket he wore no matter the weather. Even now, in the background, his motorcycle was parked like a throne at the edge of the court. No one dared to touch it, let alone try to steal it. His presence alone was enough to make most step back.

The other was Erik, dressed in a clean white hoodie, standing casually among his schoolmates.

Because of the way the two leaders dressed, and the symbolic contrast between their styles, the groups they led had come to be known as the Black and White.

Surprisingly, Rick from Clapton and Erik were standing side by side, both of them looking into the cage with an air of familiarity. From the outside, they almost looked like friends.

"You wanna place a friendly bet on who’s going to win this thing?" Erik asked with a half-smile tugging at his lips.

Print let out a low grunt. "You really think that’s necessary? I’m pretty sure everyone already knows how this’ll end."

He glanced at Rick. "It’s gonna be him, Rick, from Clapton High. I’ve had to clash with the guy a couple of times myself. We exchanged a few hits... and let me tell you, there’s no one his age that hits harder than him. One clean blow from him, and you’re not getting back up. Not for a while, anyway."

"You know how it is," Print said with a dismissive wave. "Whenever someone new shows up, everyone acts like they’re the next big thing. It’s no different this time. If that guy was really all that, he would’ve already handled Rick. But from what I heard, Dipter wasn’t even focused on fighting other schools."

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