"What did you just say?" Joe shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief. "Stop bullshitting! Why would you even say something like that? What kind of sick, cruel prank is this, how the hell can he be dead?!"
Joe practically lunged forward, nearly throwing himself at the doctor, but Aron stepped between them and slapped his arm away with a firm hand.
"Aron, what the hell are you doing?!" Joe yelled. "You can’t seriously believe this guy! We were just talking to him a few hours ago! We literally had lunch together today, he was breathing fine! What does he mean, dead? Dead?! Max, say something! Tell him he’s lying, tell him he’s making this crap up!"
But Max didn’t say a word.
He just stood there, frozen, his eyes locked forward in a hollow stare. Not even a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
It wasn’t the first time Max had heard those words.
He had heard them too many times before. And while people often said that hearing it got easier the more it happened... that wasn’t true. Not even close.
The thing Max had learned about death was, it was never the same. Each time hurt differently. It wasn’t about the act of someone being gone. It was about the memories you shared, the time you’d spent together, and what that person had come to mean to you. All those pieces decided just how deep the pain would cut.
And this time, for Max, the pain cut deeper than he’d expected.
’Damn it... I haven’t even spent that long in this body... so why does it hurt this much? Is it because... in such a short time, that idiot did so much for me? Crap... that damn idiot... that damn idiot...’
Max dragged his sleeve across his face, wiping the tears that slipped down without warning.
"You didn’t even give me a chance... to say thank you."
Eventually, Max and Joe were told to sit down while Aron spoke quietly with the doctors, handling whatever came next.
Neither of them really heard what was being said. The words floated in one ear and slipped right out the other like meaningless noise.
Joe sat staring at the ceiling, his fists clenched and eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn’t blinked since the news hit.
"What... happened, Max?" Joe finally muttered. "What are we even supposed to tell everyone? How could this happen... to Pinky?"
Leaning forward, Max clasped his hands together tightly. He sat that way for a moment, before lifting one to run through his hair, brushing it back and sweeping it away from his damp face.
"This is the life we live in," Max said quietly, his voice heavy and low. "Following me means accepting that this kind of thing... it can happen at any time, around any corner."
He exhaled sharply through his nose.
"As the leader of this group, I should’ve done better. I should’ve been more prepared. I should’ve made it clear to you all what the risks were."
Then, without looking at Joe, Max asked the question that had been forming in his gut ever since they got the call.
"After what just happened... are you still sure you want to be in the Bloodline group?"
He didn’t want to pressure him, but he had to ask. Joe had already been through so much in such a short amount of time, there were more than a few moments where Max was sure Joe had come close to losing his life.
And now... someone had lost theirs. Someone they knew. Someone in their group. It made everything real.
Joe lowered his head, quiet for a long moment.
"Max..." he finally said, voice trembling, "I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this before. Not like this."
His hands tightened in his lap.
"But I liked hanging out with everyone. I liked the Bloodline group. Being with you guys... it felt like I finally had something that mattered."
No one in my family ever really cared about what I did or what I was trying to do," Joe said, voice quieter now. "They gave up on me pretty quick."
He looked up, red-eyed, but steadier than before.
"But hanging out with all of you... it started to feel like I actually had a family. Not just people I fought alongside, but people who chose to be there."
What surprised Max even more... was how real everything had become. This time around, the group he’d formed wasn’t just about power or usefulness, it was made of genuine people. People like Joe... and Jay.
’I wonder... back when I ran the White Tiger gang, would any of them have said the same thing? I wonder if even one of them would’ve risked their life to save mine, like Jay did.’
"Can I tell you what I do want to do?" Joe asked suddenly, his fists shaking at his sides. "Who the f*ck did this to him? I want to find out who’s behind it, and I want to pay them back. Ten times worse. For what they did to Jay."
"We need to pay them back. Ten times worse than what they did to us. And not just for revenge, for a warning. So no one ever thinks about trying something like this again."
"And honestly, I don’t think even that will be enough to calm my anger."

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