Those who had come with Max were ready to help when needed. Max didn’t want a full brawl yet , he wanted information first, a sense of what he was really walking into , but he had people who would move the moment he gave the word.
While Max spoke with Jett, his phone stayed on and connected to Aron at all times. It was a tight line: words on one end, movement on the other. Max needed that connection. If the meeting turned, Aron would be the one to react first.
They’d suspected things could escalate. When it became clear Jett wasn’t interested in talking and intended to attack, the second part of Max’s plan went into motion. It had to. A simple negotiation had never been Jett’s style , this had been set up to test them, to bait them. Now the bait had snapped.
Part of the complication, Max thought, was the Black Hounds who were posted on top of the containers. They were backup , the kind of backup that could close escape routes and turn a simple fight into a trap. The men up high could call for more, block pathways, and funnel anyone on the ground into a kill zone. That was the problem Aron was dealing with.
Aron moved like he belonged to the containers. He leapt from one lid and landed on another with a muffled thud. The sound carried, but not like an alarm , more like a marker, a calculation of distance and timing. He kept moving until he reached the edge of the higher stack. From there a man on an even taller container peered down.
"What was that bang?" the man muttered, looking around. For a moment he saw nothing, only empty sky and the rigid lines of metal. Then a movement along the edge drew his attention: someone had pulled himself up and jumped to the ledge in front of him.
Aron kicked forward. The force of the movement balanced on a tiny bit of ledge and then became a knee into the man’s stomach. They rolled together, scraping across the metal, and Aron’s hand moved for a taser. He pressed it to the man’s neck; the device sparked, the man convulsed, then slumped. Foam drifted from the corner of his mouth as the electricity took hold and he passed out.
Aron worked like that: surgical, quiet, and focused. He told himself the right thing was to make routes for escape, to make sure their people had an out. If anyone watching the rooftops reported back that even a small, precise force could cut a path through, more caution would follow. Escape, in Aron’s mind, was as important as victory.
Of course, while keeping those goals in mind, he was also searching , eyes always scanning for where Sheri might be. He moved with two jobs: keep the high positions quiet and find the room where she was held. That was why he wasn’t standing with the others when Max shouted into the open dock.
Jett saw the arrivals. He watched as more faces stepped from the shadows and into the fight. He recognized a few now: the ones he’d seen earlier, the ones who’d come for Max. Na, who had a careful presence; Darno, who’d been rammed off the road; and the others who had joined the cluster of rangers around the Billion Bloodline man.
"Oh it’s that guy I saw before, the one that was quite talented," Jett said, nodding toward Na almost lazily , recognition that was part dismissal and part calculation.
"Don’t forget me," Darno snapped back, stepping forward. "You guys nearly rammed me off the road, you ruined my car, so I’m going to make you pay for that!"
His voice carried through the crates and into the salted air. Max watched him, measuring. Darno’s anger was straightforward, raw. It was the sort of emotion that made people move without thinking. For a moment, the situation was personal and petty and human , a broken car, a bruised ego , and then it shifted back.
To Jett, Max looked different now. He didn’t just appear to be a single, convenient target. There was an aura around him, a sort of concentration in the way he held his shoulders and fixed his eyes. It was the look of someone who expected to be underestimated and who used that underestimation like a blade.
’One young kid and one girl , it was meant to be easy. It was meant to be an easy mission,’ Jett thought. ’Darius already asked me what was going on and I said I’d deal with it. This feels like it could turn into a really big deal.’
The Black Hounds were still fighting; more were gathering, and the gap between the two sides was starting to narrow. But here, now, the skill of those near Max became apparent. The new arrivals were sharper, quicker, cleaner in their movement than most of Jett’s men. Jett had brought numbers; Max had brought leverage.
Numbers could overwhelm sloppy force, but skill and coordination could pick apart numbers one by one. The Black Hounds were talented, certainly, but not uniformly so. They had brought a mix of veterans and raw recruits; they had depth, but depth meant variance. Max’s side was different: tighter. Focused.
A bat swung across Joe’s field of vision. He ducked under the first blow, letting it clatter into a metal crate. Another came fast for his stomach. He threw up his fists to block, feeling the bat thud against hardened knuckles that stung. It hurt , raw and immediate , but it didn’t break him. He stayed in the moment and let his body answer the strike.
Max kept his eyes on Jett. He had thought about this man during the call, about what he had been told, about what might be at stake. Jett was meant to be strong. Max had spent money, had pushed people in a hundred directions to get to this moment, and now the measure of that choice sat before him. It was a test of the price he’d be asked to pay, in cash or in blood.
Max felt his own readiness settle into him, the kind that comes before a storm. He was prepared. He expected to push it to the limit. And yet Darno stepped forward, surprising him.
"Max... let me deal with this one," Darno said, voice low and determined. He rolled his shoulders into a fighting stance, palm raised, fist cocked. "This guy has annoyed me from the beginning since I saw him. It’s not important to you, right? What is important is finding Sheri. So you do that, and I’ll take him out."
Max took a breath, thinking of Wolf’s words earlier , that Darno had the potential to be an A-rank, possibly higher. Darno had proven something already, but he’d also frozen at a crucial moment. Max had let him come anyway , a choice made with faith and calculation both. He offered a curt nod, a kind of permission.
"Alright," he thought inwardly. I’ll leave this to them. I have to keep my focus where it matters most.