Having been given a location and a place to meet, Max finally ordered the Bloodline group to pull back.
It had been their first real fight outside of school , not against rivals, not a tournament match or sparring session , but a genuine street battle. The kind that left adrenaline in their veins and the sound of clashing fists still ringing in their heads.
For most of them, it was a taste of what they had only imagined. The moment the fighting stopped, laughter and ragged breaths filled the air. They weren’t just kids anymore. They had fought and won. They had proven something , not just to the world, but to themselves.
A few looked down at their bruised knuckles with quiet pride. Others kept glancing at Max, as if waiting for his approval. The truth was, the Bloodline group had changed that day.
They weren’t weak. Not by any measure.
If Max had kept the attack going, it wouldn’t have done much for them. Every second longer would’ve given the Black Hounds more time to regroup, to rebuild, and to strike back twice as hard. He had to think beyond the rush of victory.
They had already achieved what they came for. The point of the operation was never to wipe out the Black Hounds , it was to find Sheri. And now they had what they needed.
A large black SUV waited at the curb, its engine idling softly. It could fit seven people , just enough. Max, Joe, Stephen, Wolf, Aron, Na, and Darno climbed in. The air inside was heavy, thick with tension and the faint metallic scent of blood from the earlier scuffles.
Even though Jett had asked to meet Max from the Billion Bloodline Group, Max didn’t bother dressing like a businessman. Today, he wore his black jacket , the same one that carried the faint emblem of the rangers. Around him, the others wore their colored jackets too, each representing a different rank and loyalty.
Because this wasn’t a meeting. Not really.
It was a fight waiting to happen.
And Max wanted to be ready.
As the car moved, Darno glanced around at the others. The men sitting in silence with him were not ordinary people. There was Joe , the one in the green jacket, laid back but sharp-eyed; Wolf , wearing gold, his stare calm yet heavy; Stephen , in red, quiet but observant; Aron , the strategist, whose eyes seemed to analyze everything without saying a word; and Na , the bodyguard who followed Max closely.
They were all dangerous in their own ways.
What’s with all the colored jackets? Darno thought. Am I right? Is Max actually leading a fighting unit under the Billion Bloodline Group? That would explain why they bought the Fortis Group , to strengthen themselves.
Maybe big organizations like this get pulled into things like this all the time, and that’s why they need people like them...
Then his eyes moved to Na. He wasn’t wearing a jacket like the others. His outfit was just a formal black suit. But why not him? Darno wondered. He usually dresses like Aron, but Aron’s got his jacket today and Na doesn’t. Is it some kind of rank thing? Or something else?
The more Darno thought about it, the less it made sense. He wanted to ask, but part of him knew better. There was a strange pressure in the car , a sense of unspoken hierarchy , and he didn’t want to say something that might cost him his job... or worse.
"What’s with the freeloader in the back?" Joe asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His smirk was sharp, playful but edged. "Did you pick up a handsome homeless man or something?"
"Me?" Darno said, startled. "Are you saying I look homeless? And we’ve met before , don’t you remember? I fought against your friend Wolf."
"Friends might be a bit of a stretch," Wolf replied without turning his head. His tone was calm, but the faint curl at the corner of his lip said enough. "Let’s just say we’re all acquaintances linked to one person."
"Hey, bringing him along , you’re not thinking of letting him join the rangers, are you?" Joe leaned forward, one brow raised. "The rangers can’t just be people who are strong. They have to be the most loyal. The ones who matter most to the group."
"Well," Stephen said with a small shrug, "Na hasn’t gotten a jacket either. I think he’d get one before Darno."
"No!" Joe snapped immediately, his tone fierce enough to cut the air. "That’ll never happen. He’s linked with too much death."
The SUV went silent again. The hum of the road filled the space between them as the city lights flickered past. The weight of Joe’s words lingered, though no one questioned it.
Finally, Max spoke.
"The rangers are the rangers," he said firmly. "The ones with the jackets , I won’t just hand them out. Everyone here now is here because they have strength, and because they’ll help us get Sheri."
His eyes flicked toward Joe through the mirror. "You remember her, right? From school?"
"Yeah," Joe answered after a pause. His usual confidence softened. "I remember her. You don’t want another situation on your hands, huh?"
Max didn’t respond, but his silence said enough.
Joe leaned back and nodded. "We’ll do everything we can to get her back."
Darno sat still, his gaze moving between them. Every few sentences revealed a little more , hints, names, shared memories , but never the full picture. Whatever this group was, it wasn’t just a gang or a company. It was something else. Something deeper.
The SUV continued toward the docks. The sun had dipped low in the sky, painting the horizon in orange and violet streaks. The sea caught the light, reflecting it back like liquid fire.
As they approached the abandoned port, the mood in the car shifted again. The chatter died. The quiet turned purposeful.
Max stared out the window, thinking of the call, of Jett’s voice on the other end. The tone had been mocking, confident , the kind of tone that came from someone who thought they had already won.
But Max wasn’t going there to beg or trade. He wasn’t planning to offer his life for Sheri’s. His goal was simple: get in, get her out, and walk away.
He turned to his team, his voice low but steady. "Remember, this isn’t a fight we need to win outright. We go in, get Sheri, and get out. Don’t chase. Don’t linger. Don’t take risks."
Aron nodded. Stephen cracked his knuckles. Na quietly adjusted his sleeves.
Even Wolf’s calm eyes narrowed slightly as he looked ahead.
The SUV slowed to a halt, the tires crunching against the gravel. The sound of the sea was close now , rhythmic waves slapping against old concrete.
Through the cracked windows, they could see the silhouettes of shipping containers and cranes, half-rusted and left to rot. It was the perfect place for an ambush , isolated, quiet, and full of places to hide.
"Let’s do this," Joe said, pushing the door open and stepping into the cooling air.
The rest followed one by one, their jackets glinting faintly under the fading sun , green, red, gold, black , colors of a force that few even knew existed.
Max was the last to step out, the wind brushing across his face as he looked toward the docks ahead. Somewhere out there, Sheri was waiting , and Jett was waiting too.