The entire room fell into a collective, stunned silence. Joe blinked several times, actually jamming a finger into his ear and twisting it as if he were trying to clear out a physical blockage, genuinely wondering if his hearing had failed him. They had listened to the women of the Fallen Rose throw around some remarkably unhinged threats from the moment they breached the facility doors, but up until this exact second, the inner circle had brushed most of it off as aggressive posturing.
Now, within the quiet, high-stakes atmosphere of Max’s private office, the revelation was bordering on the unbelievable.
"So, let me get this entirely straight," Aron said, stepping forward from the shadow of the back wall. His voice was deathly calm, but his posture was radiating a lethal pressure that caused the air in the room to drop ten degrees. "You have marched right through our front doors, sat down in front of our leadership, and openly admitted you possess a contract to execute our entire organization? You are very brave. Very, very brave."
Instinctively, the temperature in the room triggered the survival mechanisms of the three women. Sarah, Shooting, and Abby all took a synchronized half-step backward, their hands dropping naturally to rest on the hilts of their weapons. Even though Aron was technically the furthest individual away from them—standing like a specter just behind Max’s shoulder—their combat intuition screamed that if a bloodbath erupted in this confined office, they would need to coordinate everything in their power just to neutralize that single man.
"Calm down, Aron," Max interrupted, raising a hand to signal his guardian to stand down. His voice was smooth, completely unaffected by the threat. "I don’t think they would have traveled all this way just to initiate a suicide mission. Besides, I believe the test they conducted on the training floor was exactly what convinced them to reconsider the contract, right?"
"Correct," Shooting said, recovering her swagger and stepping forward to take the lead. She crossed her arms, her eyes locked on Max. "Look, it’s not a matter of us being terrified that we can’t take you out. It’s a matter of whether the physical toll is actually worth the payout for our crew. In our line of work, the harder the target proves to be, the higher we raise our premium."
Hearing Shooting’s transactional logic, the other Bloodline rangers in the room began to shift uncomfortably. A few of them exchanged nervous glances, wondering if this entire pitch was simply a crude extortion tactic designed to squeeze a higher price out of them under the threat of a gang war.
"And I think Shooting should clarify the true nature of that test," Sarah added, throwing a subtle look toward their silent commander. "The entire reason we engaged in that spar was because our leader, Vera, wanted to personally evaluate your capabilities to decide if an alliance was viable. That is the sole reason we are having this diplomatic conversation right now instead of trading blood."
"An alliance with the very hit squads that were commissioned to erase us from the map? What kind of twisted logic is that?" Joe scoffed, a dark laugh escaping his throat. "Don’t you think this is a remarkably foolish maneuver on your part? You’ve walked directly into the heart of our operations without a single shred of established trust between us. How do we know you won’t just wait until our backs are turned to slide a blade between our ribs?"
The rest of the rangers remained silent, their expressions hard. They knew Joe’s skepticism was entirely justified. In the brutal, unforgiving ecosystem of the Underworld, choosing your partners wasn’t a matter of convenience—it was a matter of survival. One wrong signature could collapse an empire.
"Because the anonymous client paid us an astronomical amount of money," Abby finally blurted out. She could see that Shooting and Sarah were growing visibly frustrated by the deadlock, their tempers fraying. It was glaringly obvious that the leadership of the Fallen Rose was accustomed to solving structural problems with cold steel, not corporate negotiations.
Abby took a deep breath, stepping into the space to steady the conversation. "What I mean by that is the capital involved is massive—to the point where even if our calculations showed a high probability of casualties on our side, the sheer volume of the wealth would still force us to risk the deployment. And more importantly, if an organization like the Fallen Rose declines a payout of that magnitude, the client isn’t going to just give up. They will simply take that mountain of cash and hire a different Syndicate to finish the job."
Abby had spent hours agonizing over the exact vocabulary she would need to use to convince the Bloodline to listen to her without revealing her true identity as Abby. She had to spin the narrative perfectly so that her own fierce subordinates would see the financial logic, while Max would see the strategic value.
"So, what I am officially proposing is a counter-contract," Abby suggested, her eyes locking onto Max’s red hair with absolute intensity. "I am suggesting that the Billion Bloodline hires the Fallen Rose. Pay us to act as your shield. Pay us to dismantle whatever assets, hit squads, or rival syndicates this anonymous client decides to throw at your borders next. We are entirely confident that our blade-work will provide an impenetrable defense, and at the same time, you effectively buy our allegiance, taking us off your list of active threats."
She leaned against the edge of the table, her tone turning purely calculated. "Naturally, because we are breaking a prior agreement, we will require a substantial cancellation fee to offset the lost revenue. But in exchange, if you provide the necessary funding, you can even commission our network to hunt down the paper trail and find out exactly who initiated this contract in the first place."
"Ha!" Joe erupted into loud, dismissive laughter, shaking his head. "Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? We are more than strong enough to butcher anyone who crosses into our territory. We don’t need to outsource our security or hire a mercenary crew to fight our battles for us. Look out the window—we are the undisputed kings of Notting Hill."
A few smug, arrogant smiles manifested across the faces of the rangers in the room. They had bled to conquer the Gilt Rats and unify the streets; they had earned the right to be fiercely proud of the empire they had constructed in record time.
"And that is exactly why you need to listen to me," Abby countered, her voice dropping into a cold, realistic frequency that silenced Joe’s laughter. "Do you honestly believe the rest of the country is blind to your ascension? Even a nomadic group like the Fallen Rose knew you had consolidated power here, and yet, someone out there is still entirely willing to invest an absolute fortune to see your streets run red.
"With the volume of capital they have put into play, it can only indicate one of two terrifying realities: either an external Syndicate of equal, monolithic power has targeted you for termination, or you have drawn the personal ire of an individual with enough generational wealth and political influence to pull the strings of the criminal underworld like puppets."
The room grew heavy as the implications of her analysis settled in. The rangers realized that their victory over the local gangs hadn’t bought them peace; it had simply graduated them into a much larger, more lethal arena of war. And somewhere in the background, Dud was still out there, intentionally agitating the factions and escalating the timeline.
As for Max, his mind had bypassed the financial details entirely, dropping into a much deeper, more calculated train of tactical thought.
’An entity powerful enough to fund a Syndicate-level execution contract against an entire territory... it can’t be the remnants of the Gilt Rats; they’re entirely broke and dismantled,’ Max calculated, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against his desk. ’Which leaves only two logical avenues. Either a warlord from a neighboring province is attempting to test our operational durability before launching an invasion... or someone has finally discovered that the true commander behind the Billion Bloodline is me Max Stern..’
Max stood up straight, his gaze sweeping over Abby’s defensive posture, sensing a strange, unexplainable familiarity in her drive to protect his infrastructure.
"Alright," Max said, his voice echoing with absolute authority as he closed the distance between them. "Let’s see how this alliance functions in practice. Fallen Rose... let’s work together."