From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 654

Chapter 654: Not The Same Joe (Part 2)

Deep trauma still clung to the edges of Joe’s mind, a lingering ghost of the day Dud had invaded his gym and systematically dismantled his life. Truth be told, Joe had replayed that sequence of events a thousand times. In the immediate aftermath, as he lay recovering from injuries that should have been fatal, he had genuinely felt that this life, the life of the underworld and the Bloodline, wasn’t for him.

He had wanted to quit. He had wanted to pack whatever belongings he had and run as far away from the city as possible. The only reason he had stayed, the only reason he had forced his broken body back into the ring, was a heavy sense of responsibility. He was the protector of the gym. If he hadn’t stood his ground against Dud that day, what would have happened to the students? What would have happened to the people who looked up to him?

But as Joe stared at the man in the car, a flicker-reaction occurred. His muscles tensed, ready to recoil, but then something else surged forward to meet it: his Vow. The ironclad determination he had forged through blood and sweat rose up, alongside the memories of every grueling trial he had endured since that day.

’If there’s one person I truly need to thank for this,’ Joe thought, his gaze hardening, ’I guess it has to be Aron. After that man nearly killed me more times than I can count with those damn throwing knives during our training sessions, it feels like no one in the world is as scary anymore.’

Instead of paralyzing fear, a white-hot anger began to fill Joe’s veins. How could this person be so shameless? How could Dud be so arrogant and cocky as to come back to this specific neighborhood while Joe was still breathing?

He was not the same person he had been before. Dashing forward with an explosive burst of speed, Joe formed a fist and threw it out with everything he had. Reacting to the sudden movement, Dud scrambled for the controls, frantically winding the window up with the button. He thought the idiot was going to break his hand against the rising glass, but to his absolute shock, the fist was fast, faster than the motor could lift the pane.

Joe’s fist smashed right through the glass. The entire pane disintegrated into a thousand jagged shards that showered the interior of the car. Dud leaned back instinctively just before the impact, his own reflexes kicking in as he swiped at Joe’s forearm, pushing the strike to the side. Instead of connecting with Dud’s jaw, the fist slammed into the passenger seat, the force of the strike causing the interior frame to buckle and crumble.

"Drive! Get us out of here!" Dud shouted, his voice cracking with sudden panic.

The driver slammed his foot onto the pedal, the tires screeching against the asphalt. If Joe’s hand had remained lodged inside the cabin, there was a high probability the sheer force of the car’s acceleration would have snapped his arm like a dry twig. But Joe had already retracted.

It was a habit born of thousands of hours of training. Everything he had learned was centered on the philosophy of the jab: throw the hit and snap it back instantly to the face for defense. With the hydraulic assist of the exoskeleton, his arm retreated into a defensive posture before the car could even clear the curb.

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