Max had always operated on a simple, ruthless philosophy: make the absolute most of the situation at hand, no matter the odds or the obstacles. In his meticulously calculated mind, there was no avoiding the inevitable. No matter what diplomatic dances they attempted or what temporary truces were forged, his faction would eventually clash with the Gilt Rats in a battle for supremacy.
The Gilt Rats had simply become too deeply involved with their business. With them currently sitting comfortably as the top Syndicate gang operating in Notting Hill, they represented a massive, unavoidable hurdle. They were an apex predator that Max’s group would eventually need to take down if they ever wanted their own organization to grow and thrive within the city’s cutthroat underworld. Coexistence was nothing but a myth.
So, analyzing all of those factors, Max had made a definitive choice. If this was a violent situation that was inevitably going to start anyway, then he would be the one to dictate the terms. He would be the one to start the war, striking on his own timeline rather than waiting to be ambushed on theirs.
It was a mindset somewhat similar to an employee who already knew with absolute certainty that they were going to get fired. There was a distinct, empowering pride in standing up and loudly declaring that they were quitting before the termination could even be mentioned or brought up by the boss. This was the exact same dynamic for Max. He was seizing the narrative and the momentum.
Only, Max truly did believe that right now was currently the absolute best time to strike. Ironically, he had the Gilt Rats themselves to thank for this golden opportunity. By launching this hostile takeover, the syndicate had unknowingly pushed two desperate Stern family members directly into his waiting arms. Because of their aggressive plays, he had managed to secure and absorb far more money than he could have ever imagined making in such a short period.
And for Max, capital was everything. That massive influx of funds allowed for his raw, physical strength to explode to terrifying new heights compared to what it was just weeks prior. He had never felt better, never felt more capable of crushing his opposition. His enemies, of course, had absolutely no idea about this unique, hidden mechanic, that the more wealth he earned and hoarded, the exponentially stronger he would physically become.
And as for his allies within the Billion Bloodline group, they certainly weren’t exactly sitting around doing nothing while he pulled the strings, either. They had continuously pushed themselves, training relentlessly to grow during this tense period, honing and mastering their unique powers.
When the inevitable clash finally happened, it wasn’t going to be the same desperate, scraping fight as when they had fought against the Black Hounds. That was for sure. They were ready for a war.
Meanwhile, back in the suffocating atmosphere of the corporate boardroom, the reaction to Max’s dramatic unmasking was pure shock. Even though one person in particular should have been absolutely overjoyed by the miraculous news she had just heard, that her company was being saved, she was instead entirely frozen, completely focused on the face she could now clearly see on the computer screen.
I don’t understand. Why is Max Stern on the screen? Bobo thought, her mind spinning wildly as she stared at the red hair and the familiar, yet somehow hardened, features. He just said he’s the Chairman of the Billion Bloodline group, right? I looked into them before all this. They already had some serious reputation and weight among the other syndicates in the underworld. Could it really have been him this entire time?
When Bobo started to think about it deeper, analyzing the timeline, she realized just how inherently suspicious everything actually was. A venture capitalist group appearing seemingly out of nowhere, wielding an impossibly high amount of liquid funds, stepping in at exactly the right moments.
Of course, there was always a statistical chance for a shadow company to secretly be backed by one of the wealthy Stern family members. But in a million years, she never would have imagined it would be Max. The weak, pathetic pushover of the Stern family. The outcast. Yet here he was, doing all of this, holding the fate of her entire life’s work in his hands.
Is he actually helping me, or is he just tricking me into a deeper trap? Bobo thought, a cold sweat breaking out on her palms. Why did he come to the facility in the first place? He couldn’t have possibly known that Ramon’s betrayal was going to happen right then, right? She bit the inside of her cheek. Or maybe he’s just a pure opportunist. Maybe he is doing all of this now simply to take maximum advantage of the situation, to bleed me dry while securing his own position against a rival gang.
Whatever his true motives were, Bobo had already signed the contracts and sent over the massive sum of money. It wasn’t as if she could ever take it back now. The transaction was final. But as she stared at the screen, she knew one undeniable thing to be true.
If she had known it was Max Stern sitting behind that mask before the meeting had started, she would have put zero hopes into his intervention.
She would have never, ever guessed that he would agree to help her, let alone go out of his way to openly declare war against such a potentially dangerous, deeply entrenched group like the Gilt Rats just to secure her position.
Especially after how she had treated him for his entire life.
It was true that, unlike Chad and a few of the more violent members of the family, Bobo didn’t outright physically attack Max herself, nor did she go out of her way to put him in tough, humiliating situations. But she was complicit. She had eagerly joined in with the others from the sidelines.
She had enjoyed the cruel name-calling, the constant pinning down of Max’s worth, and the collective agreement that he was a stain on their pristine family legacy. She knew, with absolute, bitter certainty, that if the situations were reversed and Max was the one begging for his life’s work to be saved, she certainly would have never lifted a finger to help him out.
I can’t believe I’m being saved by him, of all people on this earth, Bobo thought, a profound sense of shame and disbelief washing over her.
Her internal crisis was abruptly cut short when a loud, furious voice interrupted the standoff.
"Damn it! Damn it, Max!" Ramon shouted, his voice echoing off the boardroom walls as he glared at the monitor. His polite, corporate facade had completely melted away, revealing the rabid thug underneath. "I knew you were a part of the Stern family from our intelligence, but I thought you all absolutely hated each other!"
Ramon slammed a fist against the polished table. "This was a perfect chance for you! A chance of dealing with someone who troubled you, letting her sink, and getting rid of us as an enemy by staying out of our way! We could have had peace! Yet you really are stupid enough to throw that away and make us an enemy over her?!"
"Do you have trouble hearing, Ramon?" Max asked, his tone dripping with icy condescension. "As I just said clearly for the record, we are at war. And we will do absolutely everything in our considerable power to stop the Gilt Rats and destroy everything related to them."
For a tense moment, Ramon stopped yelling. He tilted his head all the way back, staring blankly at the ceiling tiles as he let out a long, ragged breath. Then, he slowly brought his head back down. He dragged his hands down his face, and through a peak in his fingers, one could see a wide, manic smile spreading across his lips. The corporate raider was gone. The syndicate enforcer had arrived.
"You made a very simple, fatal mistake here today, Max," Ramon claimed, dropping his hands, his eyes wide and unblinking. "At the end of the day, you’re dealing with a hardened criminal organization. And if we can’t get things this way, with signatures, lawyers, and legal loopholes, well, there’s only one thing left we can resort to."
Ramon’s smile widened into a terrifying grin. "Violence!"