Chapter 233: A Jacket and a Promise
After slipping on the black Billion Bloodline jacket, Max stepped into a taxi and gave the driver a single destination, Mancur City.
The birthplace of the White Tiger Gang.
He hadn’t taken Aron with him this time, though Aron had offered. Max assured him he was safe. If anyone had intended to make a move on him, they wouldn’t have given him a two-day warning. They would’ve struck already.
Besides, if there was one thing Aron had slowly learned over time, even amidst all the chaos Max constantly found himself in, it was to trust him.
Time and time again, Max came out unscathed. And this time, he’d even told Aron where he was going. That alone gave Aron a little peace of mind.
"Whoa, nice jacket," the taxi driver commented as they cruised through the city lights. "Don’t think I’ve seen that one before."
"Ah yeah," Max replied with a small grin. "Limited edition."
"Right. I’ve been seeing kids all over Birnhurst wearing that logo lately. Looks like it’s catching on. Wouldn’t be surprised if all of Notting Hill’s wearing it next. Heck, give it a few months, and maybe other countries start hopping on the trend too."
That’s the dream, Max thought. If that happened, not only would his brand grow, his income would skyrocket.
And with income came power.
With enough power, maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to take care of the Black Hounds. Or at the very least, handle the Rejected Corps without losing everything in the process.
After a long hour on the road, the car finally pulled into a more run-down part of town. The streets darkened. The buildings more industrial. The taxi driver slowed, eyes flickering to the GPS, then to the worn-down entrance of what looked like a junkyard.
"You sure this is the place, kid?" he asked cautiously. "Doesn’t look... friendly. I can wait here, take you back if you need."
Max nodded. "That’d be great. Just wait thirty minutes. I’ll pay for your time."
He pulled out some cash and handed it over. The driver took it without protest but watched Max step out with a lingering look of concern.
Not the usual high school destination, his expression seemed to say.
As Max turned the corner, weaving past rusted vehicles and broken-down machinery, the scene changed. Barrels of fire illuminated the night. Loud music blared from an open garage. The atmosphere was tense, but familiar.
Several gang members perked up the moment they noticed movement. They were ready, until they recognized the red hair and confident walk.
"It’s him!" one of them called out. "Call the boss!"
Not long after, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, stepping out of the garage while glancing at his phone.
Wearing a half-amused expression, Wolf approached.
"You’re looking more stylish than usual," he commented, eyeing the Billion Bloodline jacket. "But if you’ve come all the way here in person... I doubt it’s just a fashion show. What kind of trouble, or favor, are you bringing me this time?"
Max didn’t waste time.
He gave a brief but honest summary. He didn’t dive into the family drama or explain the full situation with Chad. But he made it clear: the Rejected Corps had come after him, and now the Black Hounds were in the mix too.
He didn’t expect Wolf to press for more.
Wolf had always respected Max’s boundaries, as long as Max was upfront about what he was willing to share.
"Damn, Max..." Wolf muttered, running a hand through his hair. "How do you keep getting yourself into this kind of stuff? I knew about the Rejected Corps, and I told you back then, if you were gonna go to war with them, I was out."
"But the Black Hounds?" He shook his head. "They’ve got a rep, even here in Mancur City. That’s not the kind of organization either of us can take on, not alone, and not even together."
"I know," Max replied. "That’s why I came here. Why I didn’t just call."
Wolf fell silent. The weight of Max’s words was starting to sink in.
Looking around, Max noticed something else.
"Your group’s gotten bigger," he said.
Wolf nodded. "Yeah. Thanks to some... generous funding lately, I figured I could take in a few more. Strengthen the Pit."
"But I’d rather not lose them in a battle they didn’t sign up for."
Max nodded. "The situation I’m asking you to help with, isn’t a direct assault. You’re not going up against the Black Hounds head-on. Not unless something goes wrong. I just need backup. Support , if it comes to it."
"You won’t be alone either. Aron will be there."
He paused.
"If payment is needed... name your price."
Even saying it stung. Max had already paid Wolf more than most. If this escalated into a war with a syndicate, how much more would he ask?
"But I have one favor to ask," Max added. "Let me pay you after the job’s done."
Wolf sat back, mulling it over.
He looked uneasy. Torn.
"I’m going to need a little more from you, Max," he finally said.
Max tensed. "More? You mean... more money?"
"Not quite," Wolf replied, a grin forming on his face. "I’ve been looking into your new little crew. Heard what you’re building. That group of yours, those jackets, they’re pretty slick."
His eyes glinted as he pointed to Max’s jacket.
"Give me one of those. That’s my first request."
Max blinked. "You want... a jacket?"
"And the second request," Wolf continued, "is this: if I help you now, this goes beyond a business deal. No more money talk."
"I’ll help you because you asked . And in return, if the Pit is ever in trouble, I want your word that you’ll do the same for us. That you’ll come when we call."
Max’s serious expression shifted. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He reached out his hand.
"Deal."
Wolf grinned wide as they shook on it. The tension faded just slightly. This had gone better than Max had hoped. Wolf and the Pit were reliable allies, and now they weren’t just hired muscle. They were bound by something stronger.
"Oh, and one more thing," Wolf added with a wink. "Let me pick the color of the inside lining. That’s non-negotiable."