Everyone in the Billion Bloodline Group had gotten the message , and this time, it wasn’t one they could ignore.
Wherever they were, whatever they had been doing, they stopped. For months, they had followed orders quietly: managing businesses, keeping their networks alive, training, and staying ready. But now that they had been called upon directly , by Max himself , the energy across the organization shifted.
They knew it was serious.
From restaurants and courier services to nightclubs and warehouses, every branch came alive.
Mayson, who managed the Bloodline-owned restaurants, immediately closed shop. Rick, who oversaw the courier division, gathered his drivers. Old alliances were reignited. Contacts were pulled from every corner of the city.
Messages spread fast , through encrypted phones, whispered code words, and simple gestures. The network that had been sleeping was now fully awake.
And then there were the ones who were closer to the heart of it all , people like Joe and Stephen, who had once fought alongside Max. They moved together without needing to speak, driving straight toward the larger venues where the Black Hounds were rumored to operate.
Wolf, too, had gotten the message.
"So, he’s finally decided to attack the Black Hounds," Wolf murmured, standing on the rooftop of an old gym. A grin tugged at his lips. "That’s faster than I thought. Then again, with Max... nothing he does is predictable."
He turned, calling out to the Pit members who had trained under him. "Let’s move. You all know what to do."
Across the city, a quiet war was unfolding.
The difference between the two sides was clear from the start.
The Bloodline Group launched from the outer edges of Brinehurst, moving inward in waves. They struck at the venues tied to the Black Hounds , underground bars, fighting pits, and safehouses. The attacks came fast and without warning.
Meanwhile, the Black Hounds were spread thin. Their members were stationed in different areas, some even outside Brinehurst. On paper, the Black Hounds had greater numbers, but in this attack, it didn’t feel that way.
The Bloodline’s momentum was overwhelming.
Most of the fighters were young , some fresh out of high school , and overconfident. They didn’t care about balance or reputation. They fought recklessly, driven by adrenaline and loyalty. They didn’t even know much about their enemies; all they knew was that Sheri had been taken, and Max had given the order.
They stormed venues, broke through doors, and took down anyone wearing the wrong colors.
The chaos spread like fire.
Every street, every block in the area shook with the echo of fists, shouts, and breaking glass. Nearly every Black Hound outpost was overwhelmed , one by one.
It wasn’t a war. It was a statement.
Normally, when gangs clashed, it looked more like what had happened with the Chalkline Boys and the Rejected Corps , skirmishes, territory shifts, negotiations. But this... this was a full-scale offensive.
And that was dangerous.
If the Bloodline Group lost too much in this strike, it would leave them wide open. The Black Hounds could retaliate and crush them in return. For now, though, the attack had the advantage of surprise.
It was a small victory on paper, but symbolically, it meant everything. This was the first real battle between the Bloodline Group and the Black Hounds , and it was going down in history as a blood-soaked beginning.
Still, neither side had truly expected it.
At one of the venues , a dimly lit restaurant doubling as a fight club , Max made his entrance.
The moment he stepped through the broken doors, one of the guards shouted for him to leave. Max didn’t even answer. He grabbed the man by the tie, yanked him forward, and slammed a fist into his face. The guard hit the ground before he could make a sound.
The room erupted into chaos.
Max charged straight ahead, jumping off a table and landing a spinning kick into another man’s head. The impact sent the man crashing into the counter.
Behind him, one of the Black Hounds tried to smash a bottle across his back , but Aron was already there, moving fast. He caught the attacker’s wrist mid-swing and struck him twice , once to the hand, once across the jaw , before the man dropped.
Seconds later, the rest of the Bloodline members rushed in. A full-scale brawl erupted inside the restaurant. Tables crashed, glasses shattered, chairs broke under the weight of thrown bodies.
Darno stood near the entrance, watching everything unfold. He hadn’t joined the fight yet , not because he was afraid, but because he was realizing something.
I see it now, he thought, eyes locked on Max. This is why he could take down those men before. This is his world , his element.
Every punch Max threw was clean, controlled, precise. His movements were ruthless but deliberate , the kind that came from years of experience, not luck.
This is what he was born to do, Darno thought, almost in awe. He’s not just a fighter , he’s a leader. The Bloodline Group... it’s not just a business to him. It’s something much bigger. And this fight... this isn’t random. It’s who he is.
Without realizing it, a grin spread across Darno’s face.
Within minutes, the customers had fled, and the Black Hound members were lying defeated across the floor.
Max grabbed the last conscious man by his shirt and lifted him off the ground. The man’s face was bloody, his nose bent awkwardly, but he still glared at Max with defiance.
"Contact Jett," Max demanded. "You’re part of the same gang, aren’t you? You must have a way to reach him."
The man coughed, spitting blood. "You idiot," he hissed. "Do you even know what you’re doing? You’re declaring war against the Black Hounds. You really want that?"
Max’s eyes hardened. His grip tightened.
"It was you guys who started it," Max said. His voice was low but filled with fury. "We are just going to be the ones that finish it."
Max punched the man again knocking him out, it didn’t appear they were going to get any information until Max had received a phone call from an Unknown number.