From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 423

Chapter 423: The Chairman (Part 2)

Jett confirmed the money had been sent, and for a second Anton felt like his heart had stopped. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth; he had almost forgotten to breathe. The dockyard noise , the distant rev of engines, the scrape of boots, the low moans of the injured , all narrowed to the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

What was he to do now? Was there no one on his side? For everything he had done, would he now end up in jail? The Stern family had greater connections than he did; the Billion Bloodline group must have been backed by them somehow. Those thoughts crashed through Anton like cold water. He felt as if his life, the life he’d known, was ending.

"Well," Jett said, looking around the container yard as if he were assessing a ledger, "as I said, I was only in this to get paid at the beginning anyway, and the amount you offered is fair enough." He flicked his gaze casually across the beaten bodies. "Besides, you managed to give me some free entertainment as well."

There was a cruel amusement in Jett’s voice. He’d gotten the fight he wanted and the payment he expected; for him, it was tidy. He clapped his hands loud enough that the sound stung in the ears of those still on the ground, the clap acting like a cue. It was time to move.

Slowly, weakly, the Black Hound men pushed themselves up despite their injuries and limped after Jett as he led them away. Their exit looked less like a victory and more like a retreat staged to look composed. The rest of them , the Rangers, the battered members of the Billion Bloodline group, the Fortis survivors , watched in a kind of stunned silence, still catching their breath.

Stephen rolled his shoulder and let out a breath that was half laugh, half bitter. "I guess it’s true what people say," he muttered, holding his arm. "I guess money really can solve problems. Damn. Those numbers , that’s money I can only dream about."

Others thought different thoughts. The scale of the world beyond their street fights pressed down on someone like Wolf. He’d tangled with street gangs, he’d graded opponents and weighed up their weaknesses, but this night had shown him something larger. Organized groups, syndicates , they weren’t just bigger in numbers. They had a reach and a seriousness that street-level crews didn’t. Maybe the gangs were tools or shadows of much older structures; maybe they’d never needed to do their own heavy lifting because the big players already had the muscle to back them up.

Max watched Jett and his crew go, and he let a long, tired sigh out as he looked up at the sky above the containers. The stars were usual and cold, indifferent. The night felt expensive.

This whole damn thing is going to cost me sixty million, he thought, the number feeling heavy in his head. That’s a lot of money, and that will cost me a lot , not just cash, but effort, reputation...strength.

He forced himself to drop the thought. There was work to do that didn’t involve counting numbers. When his gaze returned to the ground, it landed on the man who had sparked the whole mess: Anton.

Anton sat still on the concrete, trembling. His face was wet with tears; his bottom lip shook. Max walked over and stopped in front of him, the air between them suddenly cold and raw.

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