From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 354

Chapter 354: A Test of Strength

There was a sharp contrast between the men and women sparring in the Fortis Group’s training hall and the people Max had come to know in his Bloodline Gang.

The Bloodline Gang had been built from the ground up out of delinquents, people society had already discarded. They weren’t children with bright futures or professionals trying to climb a corporate ladder. They were survivors. People who had already accepted they had no place in the ordinary world and chose to carve out their own path in the underworld. After everything that had happened with the Chalkline Boys and the Rejected Corps, the Bloodline Gang members had entered that life with open eyes. They knew exactly what they were stepping into, and they knew the risks.

The Fortis Group, however, was another story entirely.

Their guards were recruited from polished resumes and athletic careers, not back-alley fights and broken homes. They were Olympians, ex-soldiers, and decorated athletes. They were professionals lured by promises of high salaries, cutting-edge facilities, and a sense of prestige. They weren’t like Wolf’s hardened fighters or Na’s blood-and-steel kind of warriors.

Which made Max wonder: if these people couldn’t be used like his own gang, what roles could they fill? Could they be turned into something useful for his broader goals? Could they serve as a respectable front while his own men worked in the shadows?

There was only one way to know for sure, he had to see what they were capable of.

Nesa caught herself stealing glances at Na. He stood silently at Max’s side, towering in his dark suit. The cut of his shoulders, the thickness of his arms, the way he carried himself, it all screamed power. He wasn’t just big; he was built like a man who lived his life in combat.

She tried to keep her tone even, but a flicker of worry tugged at her words. "Although your guard seems... fit for purpose, and I’m certain he does a fine job protecting you, putting him against our personnel might be... unfair."

Max tilted his head, studying her carefully.

"I mean no offense," she hurried to add. "But many of our recruits were the best of the best in their fields before coming here. Ex-soldiers. World-class athletes. Champions in their own right. And unlike most personal bodyguards, they train every single day, together, under a system that refines them constantly. I’m sure your man is strong, but I don’t think a comparison would prove much. Still, I’d be more than happy to show you a demonstration between some of our own people."

Nesa wasn’t just being polite. She was worried. They had already risked offending the Billion Bloodline Group once. If Max’s guard was humiliated in front of everyone, what impression would that leave? Not a good one. In her mind, the safest outcome was no fight at all.

Max, however, wasn’t letting her off so easily. "I think you weren’t fully aware of the situation," he said casually. "Earlier, when your colleagues tried to attack us, Na was the one who dealt with them in seconds. I’d say that puts him on par with some of your personnel."

Nesa forced a polite smile. "The men at reception... are actually our lowest-ranked employees. It’s the entry-level post, more about presence and courtesy than skill. Even the ones Chief Nonto brought down weren’t exactly our finest. They participate in training, yes, but they aren’t like the people you see here." She gestured toward the fighters below, men and women slamming batons into each other with sharp cracks that echoed through the hall. "Besides, our people can get... extremely competitive. It’s not uncommon for injuries to happen, and I’d rather avoid that."

Max’s smirk told her he wasn’t convinced.

Before she could argue further, movement drew everyone’s attention. From the tunnel connected to the training floor, a familiar figure swaggered into view, tight black tank top stretched across his chest, gum popping between his teeth as though he owned the place.

Darno.

Max’s eyes narrowed. The very same man who had nearly run him over outside, the same arrogant thorn from reception, had strolled straight into the hall.

He turned, clearly irritated at being interrupted, but the moment he saw her face, saw who stood beside her, he straightened his back and shifted his demeanor. The swagger faded. He gave a sharp nod and quietly turned back toward the others. He knew exactly why she was calling out. It wasn’t a request. It was a warning. Behave. You’re being watched.

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