From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 386

Chapter 386: Finally

When people found themselves in tense situations, moments that cracked open fear, anger, or a choking rush of emotion, each person reacted in a different way. Some froze, some raged, some fled. Sheri’s reaction was the kind that betrayed a lack of experience with violence: her body shut down and her mind stuttered. She could feel Anton’s grip at the fabric of her shirt, the cloth stretched across the reception desk as he hauled her forward.

The rawness of it registered in every taut line across her shoulders. He was not a weak man; Anton trained his body with some regularity and carried himself like someone who believed physical force could solve problems. He had recently been rubbing shoulders with people who ranked high in the local hierarchy of strength and influence, and that confidence hardened him.

Sheri had never been a fighter. She had almost no history of physical altercations, and in this moment, adrenaline did something strange to her: it did not sharpen her, it numbed her. She could not find a foothold for resistance.

It was as if her limbs had gone through a fog and shut down, her muscles refusing to respond to the commands her mind was giving them. All she could do was feel the panic rising in her chest and the heat of humiliation crawling up her neck.

"Please... please... don’t do this," she whispered. The words came out small, wet at the edges. Tears tracked down her face and fell onto the cotton of her blouse. Her voice trembled; each syllable was a plea that did nothing to slow Anton’s momentum.

Anton did not relent. His anger seemed to have a slow-burning source that no simple apology could douse. Last time he had shown up at this building he had been on the receiving end of a punch, an event that had branded itself into his pride, and now he wanted retribution.

The old grievance tightened his jaw and narrowed his vision until all he could see was target and heat. He drew her closer, the desk a shallow barrier between them, and lifted a fist, ready to strike. "Say SOMETHING!!" he shouted, voice rough with rage as he drew back for a blow.

The sound that interrupted him was small, ordinary: the ding of the elevator. It sliced through the charged air and shifted Anton’s focus. The elevator doors slid apart, and a red-headed man stepped out, framed by the stainless steel opening.

Max walked forward from the elevator with a presence that made the room take notice; even in the brief instant before Anton registered who it was, the tension in the reception room rebalanced. Max’s eyes were hard, an unmistakable fury burning there, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He did not hesitate.

"Let go of her," Max said, voice sharp and low. The command was simple, but he said it as if it were an order that should have been obeyed without discussion.

Anton’s body writhed in pain, and for the space of a second the astonishment of his position, sprawled and humiliated on the polished floor outside the reception doors, registered. Max did not linger. He dragged Anton by the head toward the automatic doors; they parted obediently, and Max flung Anton’s body out of the building with the same brusque efficiency of someone clearing parcels from a doorway.

The man hit the pavement and rolled, stunned and gasping, while Max had already turned and stepped back inside as if the mess outside was no longer his to watch.

Anton rose slowly to his feet, lips split and nose already beginning to bruise into a dark, angry bloom. For all the indignity of his unceremonious ejection, his eyes shone with a new, furious light: rage that promised the matter was not settled.

He spat a word between clenched teeth as he staggered away from the threshold, voice hoarse but clear even at distance. "This... this is the second time this place has made a fool of me. I don’t care if we’re partners or not... you will pay for this... Max Stern!"