Jett climbed out of the car and looked up at the tall building where the Billion Bloodline logo sat like a polished badge. The sunlight hit the letters and made them glare back, a bright signature that said more than any door ever could. He stayed on the pavement for a second, breathing the air as if testing the scene, then nodded to the others. One by one they stepped out of their vehicles, all dressed in black, all wearing the same kind of smiles that meant trouble rather than charm.
They carried things in their hands: bats, iron bars, bike chains, simple, blunt weapons chosen on purpose. There were no knives among them. That had always been the way Jett’s crew worked: force over finesse, the kind of brutality that left marks but didn’t whisper. It suited them. It announced itself without argument.
"I did some research into this place," Jett said, as if that explanation should be enough.
"That’s rare for you, boss... did you skip dinner yesterday as well?" one of the men shot back. The group laughed, the sound rolling over their boots and into the courtyard.
"Just looking into what might have happened," Jett replied, voice flat but steady. "Seems like this used to be a private security company."
That was a detail that mattered. Private security meant trained personnel, someone who knew how to take a fall and get up again, people who could move and hit and keep moving. It explained why the two who had failed before might have been beaten; it meant they could be facing decent fighters inside. Jett liked that. It promised a challenge.
"This isn’t just an attack on some random public person," he added. "That’s why I brought you guys. It’s been a while since you stretched your wings."
"And don’t worry," he said with a crooked grin, "go wild. I informed Vivian of what we were doing today, so an incident like last time won’t happen."
He had done his homework. Jett had looked into the new company that had taken over the Fortis Group. It was a venture capital firm, wealthy investors, strategic moves, and new leadership. That explained a lot. It explained why the two who’d attacked one of their members had been expedited, why the response had been so quick. It explained why this place might be worth testing.
Anton’s words about the red-haired kid hummed in Jett’s head like a reminder. The kid was a regular target, Anton said, nothing extraordinary. If they took the girl for money, the red-haired boy would follow. The company itself wouldn’t go so far just to help two of their staff members. That logic felt tidy, an expected line of cause and effect. But Jett wanted to make the point clear. He wanted to make sure they understood the stakes before they walked through that door.
"Come on, let’s head inside and teach this place a lesson," Jett said as he walked forward. The group formed behind him, an arrow of black bodies moving through the courtyard toward the reception. Their footsteps matched like a slow, deliberate drumbeat.
The courtyard’s countless cameras picked them up. Small red lights blinked along the walls and roofs, dutiful little eyes recording everything. Tim saw them on a monitor and felt his stomach drop. He recognized the posture, the weapons, the faces that belonged to men who didn’t come for small things. He acted fast.
Grabbing the microphone in the reception area, Tim made a building-wide announcement in the most clinical voice he could manage. "Everyone who is available, please head to the reception immediately. I repeat: please head to the reception immediately. There are intruders at the reception. There are intruders at the reception!"
The message echoed through the building, an organized, flat alarm that forced movement. Staff reacted, shoes squeaking in hallways, people shoving on jackets, phones lighting up with the same alert. The system had reached everyone it needed to reach. They were on the move.
Two people, though, heard the message and chose not to answer it in the way everyone else did.
Max was in the shower when the announcement cut across the speakers. The water ran hot and steady, clouding his thoughts the way steam clouds a window. He listened without really listening, the kind of half-attention you give to things that seem distant and improbable.
"Seriously? The place is under attack?" Max thought, voice muffled by the spray. "Man, does the Fortis Group have some enemies? Is this all because of Darno or something? Well, the issue should resolve itself and if it’s anything serious, I’m sure they will step in."
It was the kind of casual confidence that comes from training and privilege, the belief that someone else will handle it so you don’t have to. He turned the water off, towel over his shoulders, and walked out without fuss. For him, it felt distant still. For others, it would not.
Darno, meanwhile, had just stepped out of his shower and into the changing room. He closed his locker with a bang and listened to the announcement, annoyance flickering across his face.
"Damn it, I don’t even have my own private shower anymore!" he grumbled, half to himself. Then, more seriously: "What the, an intruder... again? Don’t tell me it’s that guy. Did I not punch him hard enough last time?" He sniffed, drying his hair slowly. "Let me just dry my hair before I go down there. I’m sure the others will be able to handle it."
There were a lot of people in the Fortis Group, and the equipment was top-tier. Confidence thrummed through the rooms like electricity. They had a reputation to protect. They had people and space and money. They could handle threats, until they couldn’t. No one, not even Max, had any idea what kind of strength the men outside the building actually held.
The automatic doors at reception slid open. The guards turned to face the intruders, professional and ready. There were two of them at first, at least from the vantage of anyone watching on the cameras. The scene moved fast, too fast for polite preparation.
Before the guards could react, a fist slammed into the face of one. He fell backward, the impact flipping his body and sending him sprawling across the floor. The other guard was kicked, hard, and tumbled into a plant pot with a crash. There was no measured fight here, only efficiency, a short, violent sequence that spoke of training and purpose.
"Alright, so you’re the pretty lady that we will be taking away," Jett said, smiling like it was an afterthought. He spoke as casually as if he were choosing a restaurant, but at the same time there was a cold edge to his tone that made the air tighten.
Outside the Fortis Group, another person was moving through the courtyard with his hand on his phone. He had just entered and was already speaking into the connection. "Right... it appears there is a problem. I think you should come here," NA said, voice clipped, a note of urgency threading through the words.