From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 391

Capítulo 391: Jett The Enforcer (Part 2)

The Stabels moved fast. Ever since they’d signed the deal with the Billion Bloodline group, everything had accelerated, schedules tightened, contractors answered at odd hours, and promises that had once sounded like bravado began to look like plans. They had done what they said they would. They’d secured a prime position in a shopping mall that hugged the city’s richest stretch of seafront: wide glass walls, marble floors, and a view that glittered with yachts and late-afternoon light. For a family like the Stabels, it was more than a shop. It was a statement.

Anton stood in the middle of the nearly finished showroom, the smell of polish and fresh leather thick in the air. He’d come straight from surgery only a few days earlier and was still raw around the edges, his face stubbornly achy whenever he tried to smile, but his voice carried easily enough as he directed the workers. Men and women in logoed uniforms moved like parts of a single machine, setting lights, angling display cars, and arranging branding cards so each vehicle would look like an object of worship behind the floor-to-ceiling glass.

Several cars had already been rolled into position. Their silhouettes reflected in the panes, like trophies lined up to be admired. The mall itself was technically open, but it felt like a rehearsal: corridors were taped, a temporary railing blocked one entrance, and a security guard lingered at the threshold, clipboard in hand as if waiting for instructions that would never come.

Anton watched his people work and tried to keep his face neutral. The stitches at his jaw tugged whenever he smiled; the effort turned the edges of his mouth into a thin, painful crescent. He forced the motion anyway, because the show must go on, because that was how they kept the illusion of strength intact even when ribs ached and the body demanded rest.

A thought flickered through him and he could not help the crooked smile that almost formed despite the pain. It was childish, petty, and exquisitely satisfying. He imagined the redhead, the one they had spoken about in clipped, careful tones, getting what was coming, beaten and humiliated. “Ah, it’s a shame I won’t be there when they beat that redhead to a pulp,” Anton thought, the image making his chest tighten. The idea of photographs being sent afterward made a different part of him feel steady. Maybe they would send a picture to prove the job was done. Maybe he should have someone follow them, film everything. That would be thorough. That would be him in control.

He hadn’t given Jett a deadline. He knew better than to bind men like that with dates. Still, Anton trusted incentives: a nice car, a fat envelope, a promise that bent reality just enough, people moved fast when a prize dangled in front of them. He expected the work to be done, soonish. Not necessarily today. Not necessarily in person.

Then Jett arrived.

A tall, solid presence filled the doorway before the guard could finish his rehearsed line. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not open today, so I have to ask you to step back,” the guard insisted, voice practised and firm.

It was a request that evaporated when Jett simply stepped forward. He moved like an engine, deliberately massive and impossible to stop: a shoulder against the guard, a casual push, and the man let him pass as if accepting a force of nature. For a second, it looked like the showroom had taken a breath and everything continued around this central motion, the crates were opened, a lamp was adjusted, and someone laughed quietly at a joke Anton didn’t hear.

“If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to call every person in the store,” Jett said coolly to the guard who had already reached for his radio.

Anton raised an arm. “It’s okay,” he called out, half to reassure and half because it felt better to control the moment. “He’s here to see me.”

The truth was, Anton hadn’t expected Jett to come by himself. There had been no appointment. Yet the idea that Jett might be here to deliver the final details in person, to hand over proof, money, or both, was pleasant. He watched Jett pause by a car and felt time settle into a thin, electric thread. People worked around them and pretended not to notice; this was Stabel business, and everything significant felt both public and private.

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