Rather than rush inside on his own, Na had chosen to wait just outside the building. He had been weighing two possibilities. Either Aron would arrive soon, and the two of them would head in together under orders, or he would simply stay here and wait for whoever came back out. Since the intruders had arrived in vehicles, he assumed they would use those same vehicles to leave just as quickly.
It wasn’t long before that assumption proved right.
The moment Na saw Jett stepping out with Sheri tucked under his arm, he placed his hands up, slipping instinctively into a fighting stance. A chill ran through his body, his muscles tensing as every hair along the back of his neck stood on end. He knew exactly who this man was.
Being part of the Rejected Corps once meant working under the shadow of the Black Hounds. And anyone who had walked in those circles had heard the stories of the man they called the Enforcer. Na himself had seen glimpses of what this man was capable of. Enough to know the truth.
If I fight against him, I don’t stand a chance, Na thought grimly. His chest tightened as his eyes darted between Sheri and Jett’s steady, advancing frame.
"You’re not part of those idiots inside," Jett said as he kept walking forward, his voice casual, dangerous. "Well then, there’s no reason for you to stand in my way."
Na didn’t answer. He studied the situation carefully, looking for any gap he could exploit. There was only one thing going for him: Jett was carrying Sheri under one arm, which meant one of his hands was occupied. It wasn’t much, but it was the only advantage Na had.
Jett didn’t slow. His stride was relentless, as though Na was little more than an obstacle in his path. When the distance between them closed, Na moved. He pushed forward with all his strength, swinging his body toward Jett’s exposed side. He aimed carefully, targeting the perfect spot just under Sheri, where he could hit Jett hard without risking her.
But then a foot lifted up. Too fast. Too large. Too strong.
The kick slammed into Na’s chest before he could land his strike. The impact roared through his ribs, lifting him off his feet. His back crashed against the wall with a heavy crack. Pain spread like fire through his chest as his body slumped down the wall, gasping for air.
He could still move. He wasn’t broken. But that single strike had told him everything. Fighting was hopeless.
"Sorry," Jett said, his tone almost mocking. "I think I might have kicked you a bit too hard." He kept walking forward. "Your strength surprised me, so I just reacted. But with skills like yours, I think I might be seeing you around again."
Na could only watch as Jett reached the car. The door swung open, and with a casual motion, he tossed Sheri inside like she weighed nothing at all.
Na clenched his fists, frustration burning in his chest. He could move, he could keep fighting, but there was a reason he didn’t. My job is to protect Max, and Max is nowhere to be seen. There’s no reason for me to risk everything against a man like him, Na thought.
His eyes shifted back to the building. The reception doors swung open again, and this time a tanned man stepped out. A vein pulsed visibly at the side of his head, his face tight with anger.
"Hey, where did that big ogre go!" Darno shouted. His voice boomed across the courtyard. "That damned guy ignored me and now what? Ah, there are so many annoying guys inside."
Darno’s gaze landed on Na, still slumped against the wall. He had seen Na fight, even if only briefly, and knew how strong he was. Seeing him like this, beaten back and struggling to stand, told him all he needed to know. The man who had gone this way had to be Jett.
The sound of a door slamming shut echoed sharply. Darno’s head snapped up, and through the windscreen of a black vehicle, he caught sight of the man sitting in the passenger seat.
The engine roared to life.
"He’s going to get away!" Darno growled, gritting his teeth.
The other Black Hounds were already pouring out of the building, sprinting toward their vehicles, dragging wounded teammates with them. Doors slammed, engines coughed to life, tires screeched. The one car that mattered most, the one Jett had taken, was already pulling away.
Darno sprinted hard, pushing his legs until he reached the end of the gate, his lungs burning. But it was useless. The car was already speeding down the road, vanishing into the distance.
"Damn it!" Darno cursed. His chest heaved as his fists clenched. He took the girl. Why would he take the girl? Am I going to get blamed for this? Are we all going to get blamed for this?
Guilt gnawed at him as he stood there, breathless and helpless. The Fortis Group was supposed to be a security company, professionals who took pride in their work. And yet, right here, in their own building, they had allowed the receptionist, someone who trusted them, to be taken in front of their eyes.
Darno’s jaw tightened as he watched the remaining Black Hounds scatter, dragging their injured into cars and speeding off. His mind raced. Then suddenly, an idea sparked.
"Wait... I’ve got an idea!" Darno muttered, turning sharply. He bolted back into the reception, his footsteps echoing.
Na, meanwhile, finally pushed himself to his feet. His chest ached, his body sore, but the situation had quieted enough that he could move again. At least things weren’t escalating to the point where Max himself would be dragged into danger. That thought gave him some small relief. He stepped out onto the street, scanning the area. His eyes narrowed as he began searching for Aron.
Moments later, a sound tore through the street, the roar of an engine. A yellow sports car blurred past, its paint catching the light. Black stripes streaked down its sides, bold against the yellow body. Behind the wheel, gripping it tight, was Darno.