Jett confirmed the money had been sent, and for a second Anton felt like his heart had stopped. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth; he had almost forgotten to breathe. The dockyard noise , the distant rev of engines, the scrape of boots, the low moans of the injured , all narrowed to the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
What was he to do now? Was there no one on his side? For everything he had done, would he now end up in jail? The Stern family had greater connections than he did; the Billion Bloodline group must have been backed by them somehow. Those thoughts crashed through Anton like cold water. He felt as if his life, the life he’d known, was ending.
"Well," Jett said, looking around the container yard as if he were assessing a ledger, "as I said, I was only in this to get paid at the beginning anyway, and the amount you offered is fair enough." He flicked his gaze casually across the beaten bodies. "Besides, you managed to give me some free entertainment as well."
There was a cruel amusement in Jett’s voice. He’d gotten the fight he wanted and the payment he expected; for him, it was tidy. He clapped his hands loud enough that the sound stung in the ears of those still on the ground, the clap acting like a cue. It was time to move.
Slowly, weakly, the Black Hound men pushed themselves up despite their injuries and limped after Jett as he led them away. Their exit looked less like a victory and more like a retreat staged to look composed. The rest of them , the Rangers, the battered members of the Billion Bloodline group, the Fortis survivors , watched in a kind of stunned silence, still catching their breath.
Stephen rolled his shoulder and let out a breath that was half laugh, half bitter. "I guess it’s true what people say," he muttered, holding his arm. "I guess money really can
Others thought different thoughts. The scale of the world beyond their street fights pressed down on someone like Wolf. He’d tangled with street gangs, he’d graded opponents and weighed up their weaknesses, but this night had shown him something larger. Organized groups, syndicates , they weren’t just bigger in numbers. They had a reach and a seriousness that street-level crews didn’t. Maybe the gangs were tools or shadows of much older structures; maybe they’d never needed to do their own heavy lifting because the big players already had the muscle to back them up.
Max watched Jett and his crew go, and he let a long, tired sigh out as he looked up at the sky above the containers. The stars were usual and cold, indifferent. The night felt expensive.
This whole damn thing is going to cost me sixty million, he thought, the number feeling heavy in his head. That’s a lot of money, and that will cost me a lot , not just cash, but effort, reputation...strength.
He forced himself to drop the thought. There was work to do that didn’t involve counting numbers. When his gaze returned to the ground, it landed on the man who had sparked the whole mess: Anton.
Anton sat still on the concrete, trembling. His face was wet with tears; his bottom lip shook. Max walked over and stopped in front of him, the air between them suddenly cold and raw.
"Every part of the Stable company you own," Max said, his voice steady and carefully controlled, "is going to belong to the Bloodline Group. Then I’m going to force your entire family out of the Stable group."
He spoke as if listing terms on a contract, the syllables measured and final. "Use everything I have at my disposal. Buy up the buildings your shops are in. Maybe a few accidents will happen to the vehicles you’re in, or get the media to report on several things the Stable family has done."
Max’s words were not melodramatic threats; they were precise transactions laid out in cold terms. "From this point onwards your business will no longer exist. I’m going to need you to pay off every penny I lose today."
Anton’s hands trembled. He nodded slowly, because there was nothing else he could do. He had watched the fight and seen how capable Max’s people were when they fought back. A life in prison , even if he had money , was a possibility too terrifying to countenance.
Max continued, lowering his voice to make sure Anton heard every clause. "And if news gets out about what we have done or are trying to do, you’ll end up in prison for a very long time, you understand?"
Anton nodded again, too numbed for words. He thought of his family names and business reputation, and felt the world shrink to a single terrified point: what he had unleashed. It hadn’t been a plan meant to end well; it had been a desperate pivot, and now the pivot had snapped.
"I don’t think someone like you would do so well in prison either," Max said, the warning sharp. "And not a word gets out to anyone about who I am , about who my family is or who the owner of the Billion Bloodline group is. Even if you aren’t the leak and it gets out, I will come for you. So you better do your best to make sure it stays a secret."
Anton’s mind spun. How was any of this fair? How could he bargain his way out of the weight of what he had done? But this wasn’t the moment for fairness. The only option he had left was compliance. He swallowed, lowered his gaze, and tried to imagine how his family would react when the damage unfolded.
Max turned his attention away from Anton and toward the rest of his people, lifting his head as if shaking off the heaviness of the night. "Come on, everyone. Let’s get out of here. I’ll treat you all to a nice drink," he said, attempting something like lightness. "You deserve it after what happened."
The offer sounded generous, and the Rangers, despite bruises and pain, accepted the idea of a drink like a lifeline. They gathered themselves, pulling up sleeves, limping toward the waiting SUV, toward the warmth of people and food.
But even as Max tried to hand the night over to ordinary care , a drink, a bandage, a cigarette , his mind pushed forward into the next worry. The Black Hounds now knew the Billion Bloodline group existed in a very public way. They knew too that Max was not who he had first seemed to be. They would connect the dots: the attack, the demand, the phone call, the money. The revelation would ripple.
They will put two and two together, Max thought, and the worry in his chest tightened. What will their next move be? How will they react now that they know who we are, and that I am the leader?