Chapter 248: The Package Run
The Bloodline jacket fit perfectly on Wolf, hugging his broad frame as if it had been tailored just for him. He stood there proudly, arms slightly open, flaunting the look as though he had just been crowned king. There was no hiding the satisfaction on his face, he was proud, and he wanted the world to know it.
Even though he wasn’t an official member of the Bloodline group, that didn’t seem to matter to him. After all, Wolf had his own gang and his own people to lead, his own little empire to worry about. But details like uniforms and branding? He had never put much thought into such things, until now.
The moment he laid eyes on the jacket, something about it just clicked. It felt like pulling a rare gacha item from a mobile game, one that elevated his entire presence. Like unlocking a special cosmetic skin that made you feel like the main character. Now, standing in the center of the room under the lights, he was impossible to ignore.
And he wasn’t being ignored.
Wait a second... that’s Wolf! Dud thought, freezing in place.
He was still only halfway up the stairs, not yet close enough to reach Max. But the sudden commotion on the ground floor had captured his full attention. He, like everyone else in the room, was drawn to what was happening.
He’s wearing that uniform... the same one all the kids around Brinehurst have been going crazy over. The same Bloodline merch... but wait, why? Is it actually a real group?
Dud’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze, now analyzing the adults who had entered the venue alongside Wolf. These weren’t teenagers showing off street fashion. These were grown men, serious-looking, combat-ready, not just dressed to impress but dressed for something dangerous.
The way they moved, their formation, the confident way they carried themselves, Dud would have guessed they were part of some serious gang. Maybe even a group coming to take on the Black Hounds head-on.
But Wolf... he was introduced by Max, wasn’t he? And he said it himself, he only does things his own way. So what is this? Is this Bloodline group somehow connected to Max? Are they here for him?
The timing was too coincidental to ignore, but no one else had made the connection yet. No one knew that Max and the Bloodline group were tied together.
No one... except Dud. And that was only because of Wolf’s appearance now.
"Alright, everyone! We need to fight our damned hardest, so come in already!" Wolf shouted, his voice booming over the chaos.
And that’s when the front door burst open.
A wave of bodies flooded in, around thirty of them, all members of the Pit. Their entrance was wild, loud, and anything but subtle. With weapons in hand and screams ripping from their throats, they made their presence known in the most violent way possible.
One of them swung a crowbar, smashing it straight into a gang member’s face, sending him collapsing to the floor. Another wielded a baseball bat, slamming it against an opponent’s kneecaps with a sickening crunch.
The guards and staff inside the venue didn’t hesitate either. They grabbed whatever they could, chairs, trays, broken bottles, and rushed in to assist.
Screams. Shrieks. Bodies hitting the floor. Chaos had erupted like an explosion.
Guests leapt from their seats, the excitement of the event completely forgotten. Now, survival was their only priority. The whole scene felt like a war zone, a full-blown gang battle erupting right in the middle of what was supposed to be a classy night.
Some attendees, upon spotting an opening through the fighting, made a run for the exit. And to the surprise of many, the Pit members didn’t try to stop them. The Bloodline members didn’t either. They didn’t care about the VIPs, they weren’t the target.
That message spread fast.
More and more guests began pushing toward the exits, scrambling to get out. Within minutes, all of the VIP guests had cleared the room, leaving the fighters behind.
Now, it was the Bloodline group and the Pit versus the Black Hounds, the venue staff, and a few still-standing fighters.
While all of this was happening, Wolf remained cool and collected, still standing atop the bar. A female Pit member approached him, holding something in her hands, a square box, roughly the size of a pizza box.
"This is the package?" Wolf asked, his tone serious.
The woman gave him a firm nod, saying nothing.
"Alright, then," he replied, clearing his throat.
Although the fight was already in full swing, Wolf had a mission, one that couldn’t wait.
"Clear a path for me!" he roared. "I’ve got a package to deliver!"
The moment the words left his mouth, three individuals reacted almost instinctively. A fierce smile crossed their faces, and they charged into action with renewed energy.
Joe was the first to move. Ducking beneath a wild punch, he lashed out with a rapid series of jabs, one, two, three, slamming into his opponent’s face before the man could even raise his arms again. Then, with a brutal strike to the side of the head, he dropped the man cold and moved on to the next.
If they don’t have a knife, Joe thought, I’m not too worried. I’ll just pick and choose who I take down.
Unlike before, this time Joe had wrapped his hands. He didn’t want to injure himself more than necessary, he needed to last.
Steven, meanwhile, fought like a man with something to prove. When a man threw a punch at him, Steven didn’t dodge. He didn’t flinch. He simply responded, with a fierce jab, a vicious hook, and then a straight punch that landed like a hammer, sending his opponent crashing to the ground.
There was fire in Steven’s eyes.
"I’m getting back to the way I used to be," he muttered. "I’ve been slacking lately... but not anymore. While I’m here... I won’t let anyone else fall."
Then there was the third man. He said nothing. No words, no comments, just action.
His baton moved like lightning. One strike to a knee. A second to the hand of an incoming attacker. Each motion was fast, fluid, efficient. He didn’t waste time. He didn’t waste energy. And no one could get close to him.
Thanks to their combined efforts, a clear path opened through the chaos.
Wolf seized the opportunity.
Leaping down from the bar, he darted forward. He didn’t hesitate, weaving through the mess like a runner heading for the finish line. One man reached out to grab him, but Aron was there, smacking the hand away with a sharp blow.
Wolf kept running, turning sharply and heading toward the side staircase. He bounded up the steps two at a time.
There was no doubt where he was going.
He’s heading for the Sterns, the manager realized, eyes narrowing in worry. Just what the hell is in that package!?