Just like that, Max had taken out the two guards who stood by the entrance of the container. His movements had been clean, efficient, and filled with the quiet rage that had been building up inside him from the moment this entire mess began. He had followed the faint echo of Sheri’s voice, then the rhythmic clangs that had bounced off the maze of steel containers until they led him right where he needed to be.
He didn’t hesitate when he saw the guards. He didn’t question whether they were high-ranking members of the Black Hounds or just disposable pawns. He attacked with precision, striking before they even had time to reach for their weapons. A knee to the ribs, a sharp elbow to the throat, by the time they hit the ground, they were out cold.
Max half expected to find someone else inside, a lieutenant, maybe even Jett himself, but when he stepped through the narrow gap, his eyes fell upon something far worse.
It wasn’t just Sheri inside.
It was also Anton.
The sight of him, standing there in that cheap brown suit, his hands trembling and eyes darting around like a trapped rat, made something inside Max snap.
For days, he had been trying to piece together the mystery. Why had the Black Hounds come after the Billion Bloodline Group? How had they known to target Sheri? And if they didn’t know who he really was, why had they specifically demanded him to come forward?
Now, standing in front of Anton, every question had an answer. Every thread led back to this one pathetic man.
"It was you," Max said, his voice low and sharp, dripping with venom. His words filled the metal container like the hiss of a blade unsheathing. "You’re the reason all of this happened. Why the Black Hounds came after us. Why Sheri got kidnapped. Why I’m standing here right now. All because of your petty, miserable jealousy!"
The air in the container grew heavy.
Sheri froze where she stood, her wide eyes flicking between the two men. Anton looked as though the ground had just been ripped from under him. He’d known this confrontation might come, but not like this, not with Max alive, standing here, looking at him as if he were already dead.
Anton swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had expected Max to be long gone by now, trapped or beaten down by the dozens of Black Hound members surrounding the docks. That was why he’d dared to stay behind, confident that his plan was already complete. But now...
Now, staring into those cold, focused eyes, he knew he had underestimated him.
Those useless idiots! Anton screamed in his mind. Those damned useless idiots! How could they let him get this far?!
Max took a step forward, his boots clicking against the steel floor. Anton flinched backward instinctively. The sound of each step echoed in his skull like a countdown.
Sheri was the first to move. For a brief moment, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There had always been a part of her, a quiet, desperate hope, that Max would come. He always did. He had shown up when she least expected him to, when everything seemed hopeless. But this time had been different. This time, she had truly believed there was no saving her.
Yet here he was.
"Max!" she cried, her voice breaking as she rushed toward him.
Anton’s face twisted into panic. The only leverage he had left, the only thing keeping him relevant, was slipping through his fingers.
"Wait, you damned bitch!" Anton roared, his voice cracking under the pressure as he lunged forward. His hand reached out, ready to grab her by the hair,
But he never made it that far.
Max moved in a blur. He caught Anton’s wrist mid-motion, the force of the grab making the man’s knees buckle. Then, with a clean, brutal strike, Max’s boot drove deep into Anton’s stomach. The air was forced out of him in one sharp, ugly sound as he stumbled back and crumpled to the ground.
"You’ve done enough damage to people’s lives already, you sick bastard! " Max shouted, his voice shaking the air.
Sheri ran past them, her body trembling, her mind spinning. The moment she was behind Max, she clung to him from behind, pressing her forehead against his back. It was instinctual. There was no thought, only relief. After all the fear and helplessness, just feeling him there was enough to make her believe she was finally safe.
Her heart raced, her breath uneven, but her voice wouldn’t come. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to feel something other than dread.
Then she heard footsteps approaching from behind them. Sheri froze, her body tense again.
But then,
"I see you didn’t need my help after all," a calm voice said.
Aron.
Max didn’t turn around. He recognized the tone immediately and exhaled through his nose. Of course Aron would have followed him. He had probably cleared the guards on the upper containers before trailing Max through the chaos.
Max had worried about this exact thing, about Aron’s unwavering loyalty to him over anyone else. As much as he respected that, Aron’s job was to protect him, not the others. It meant he would never be far, no matter what orders he was given.
Still, in this moment, Max was grateful.
"I’ve cleared the area," Aron reported, his voice steady. "There’s a safe passage we can use to get out. But there might still be others hiding in certain zones. We can’t rule out that they’ll call for reinforcements."
"Take Sheri," Max said firmly. His tone left no room for debate. "Get her out of here and make sure she doesn’t run into Jett or the others. When you know she’s safe, completely safe , then come find me."
Aron hesitated, glancing at Max. He wanted to argue, to insist they leave together, but one look at Max’s expression was enough to silence him. There was no hesitation in those eyes, only conviction. Max wasn’t about to risk Sheri’s safety by dragging her deeper into this.
Aron nodded. "Understood."
He stepped toward Sheri, lowering his voice so it softened the tension in the air. "Please," he said, "come with me. For Max’s sake."
The way he said it made her stop trembling. Sheri nodded quickly, her eyes flicking to Max one last time.
"I’ll be right behind you," Max assured her quietly. "Now go."
Aron guided her toward the door, his presence calm but commanding. Sheri followed, still glancing over her shoulder as they disappeared into the shadows of the dockyard.
The sound of their footsteps faded until only the hum of the night remained.
Max stood still for a moment, letting the silence sink in. Then, slowly, he turned back toward Anton.
Anton was struggling to rise, clutching his stomach, sweat beading across his forehead. His eyes darted toward the exit, then back to Max.
Max took one slow step forward. Then another.
"Now," Max said, his voice calm but deadly. "To deal with you."