Wolf turned his attention away from Max and gave a quick command to the Pit members lingering nearby.
"Make sure Chad doesn’t do anything stupid," he ordered.
The group obeyed immediately, surrounding Chad and standing close enough that any movement would be noticed. But they didn’t need to force him down or tie him up. Surprisingly, Chad didn’t resist. In fact, he seemed more compliant than any of them had expected.
Maybe it was the fear.
He’d already been terrified of the Black Hounds, forced into working under them. And now, seeing a completely different crew swoop in and wipe out some of the Hounds’ strongest fighters, he knew he was outmatched. These weren’t just street thugs. They were something else. And now, they were the ones guarding him.
"What are we supposed to do with the rest of them?" Joe asked, stepping next to Wolf with concern in his voice. "This was a whole gang we just messed with, right? And this wasn’t even all of them."
He glanced at the scattered bodies of the fallen Black Hound fighters, most of them still breathing but out cold.
"If the rest of the gang finds out we attacked them... won’t they come for all of us? Or anyone wearing a Bloodline uniform?"
Wolf didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to Max, still unconscious in Steven and Joe’s arms. He had a feeling Max had been about to say something important before he passed out. Something that might’ve answered that exact question.
Thankfully, someone else stepped forward to fill the silence.
"I’ll handle the rest," Aron said, his tone as sharp as a blade.
All eyes turned toward him as he adjusted his sleeves and pulled out his phone. His expression was cold and unwavering, the kind of calm that only came from someone used to cleaning up messy problems.
"I’ll make sure none of these people say a word," he continued. "They’ll be locked up for what they’ve done today. No media. No visitors. Nothing will leak."
He glanced at the unconscious or restrained gang members.
"I’ll bury this entire situation. You have my word."
Aron’s confidence was unshakable as he began dialing numbers on his phone, already preparing to mobilize resources.
But the manager, still the only Black Hound standing, let out a bitter, mocking laugh.
"Ha! Do you even know who you’re messing with?" he barked. "You think you’re hot stuff just because of some fancy uniforms and tough talk?"
His voice rose with each word, his panic poorly hidden beneath his arrogance.
"No one’s even heard of the Bloodline Group! You’re nothing. But we, we’re the Black Hounds. And when they find out what happened here tonight, they’ll hunt every last one of you down. It won’t stop with you. They’ll come after everyone you care about. Your families. Your friends. Anyone tied to you."
Wolf shrugged, utterly unfazed.
"Well... the Pit’s made up of runaways anyway," he said. "Most of us don’t have anyone left for them to target."
"My family doesn’t care about me," Joe added, voice flat but honest. "Haven’t spoken to them in years."
Steven gave a dry laugh as he crossed his arms. "Guess that’s something we’ve all got in common, huh?"
There was a strange moment of solidarity between the group. A quiet bond, not born of shared victories, but shared abandonment.
That was when Aron, still holding his phone, walked slowly toward the manager. He hadn’t made his calls yet, he didn’t need to. Not until he made a point.
Just like with Chad, a couple of Pit members flanked the manager, keeping him in check. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Aron stopped just a few feet away, his eyes locking onto the manager’s.
"You’ve said enough," Aron said, voice quiet, dangerous. "Now it’s time you listened."
"I think you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with," Aron said firmly, stepping even closer to the manager. His eyes narrowed, and there was a steel edge to his voice that made everyone listening fall quiet. "It seems like you knew who that person was, what his real identity is... didn’t you?"
The manager flinched.
For a moment, he had indeed forgotten. Maybe Chad was expendable, just a pawn who didn’t carry any real protection from the powerful family behind him. But Max?
What if Max was different?
What if Max wasn’t just some runaway playing gangster? What if he was protected, and not only that, but had someone who knew how to wield that power, that money, like a weapon?
His blood ran cold at the thought. He didn’t need to guess for much longer.


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