Max and the group had finished beating everyone that was inside, but it didn’t help; they were still none the wiser in finding Jett. The room felt emptied of resistance yet thick with questions. Footsteps slowed. Breathing steadied. No one here could point to where the man they needed had gone.
The only person who was a little wiser was Darno, now starting to figure out just who Max was. He watched in silence, mind turning over each mont of the day like a series of cards laid face up.
I doubt I’ve seen his full capabilities either, Darno thought. It’s strange, so of his fighting feels a little rough at tis, but it works. The way Max moved, the way he made fast choices, the way he closed distance, none of it looked showy. It was simple, direct, and effective.
Still, the way he talks to everyone, the way everyone follows him and is wary of him, it’s clear he’s the leader of all the people here. No one questioned him. No one stalled. Every order he gave turned imdiately into motion, like a switch thrown in a machine already humming.
Which is why I think he might be stronger than what he’s done so far in all of this. Darno’s eyes narrowed. If this was Max holding back, then what did it look like when he didn’t?
Does the VC Billion Bloodline Group run so type of criminal gang organization, and they sent Max there to make sure it all works out? The thought felt bold even inside his own head, but the pieces lined up with unsettling ease.
That makes the most sense, if I had no idea who Max was, he’s the damn son of the Stern family. Even if he’s a deadbeat, it makes no sense how he can fight or how he’s managed to build all of this up. The contradiction gnawed at him. Reputation said one thing; the day in front of him said another.
Max turned, ready to press for more details and head to the next location. He looked like he was already moving on in his mind, mapping the search forward step by step. That was when his phone started to ring.
A call from an unknown number on Max’s phone was strange. He rarely gave out his number to anyone. The sound cut through the room in a clean line, and several people glanced over without aning to. Max glanced at the screen, reading the hidden na that wasn’t there.
It was the phone that Aron had made plenty of copies of, but there were those who knew the number, those in the Bloodline group, to contact them when it was absolutely necessary. The device existed for monts like this, when a single connection mattered more than anything else.
For Aron, though, he had an inkling about who it would be. He had put in a request that if soone from the Black Hounds tried to contact the Billion Bloodline VC, asking to speak to the boss or chairman, they were to give this number. A clean path. A single door.
Max answered.
"Hello there," the voice on the other side said. "I’ve heard your organization has been looking for . My na is Jett."
Max took a deep breath. He needed to keep the whole situation under control. The weight of what had to be said sat at the back of his throat. The last ti he had a call with a certain person, it was after the bad had already been done; this ti, his words could very well save or take a life.
"For a private security company you seem to drastically care about your employees," Jett continued. "I heard that you have been entering certain places. I don’t know how you managed to find out my connection to certain places but have been causing a ss trying to look for . Just a quick warning though, going down this path is not going to be a good one for you or your company, and there is a simple solution for us all if you want to solve this."
This was what Max was waiting for. From just listening so far, it didn’t seem like they knew that Max and the Bloodline group were linked. He filed that away carefully. But then the question pressed forward: why the attack, and why take Sheri? He kept his voice level and let the silence ask for him. Without saying much, he was going to get his answer.
"Do you have anything to say, an apology or anything like that?" Jett asked. "You were looking for all over the place, so before my proposal I would like to hear from the brave man."
From Max’s mouth there was a small chuckle. It wasn’t warm. It was the kind that made space for intent.
"You say that you don’t know the problem that we have caused, but I am well aware of you as well as the people who are backing you," Max said. "The truth is, of the entire matter, you must be confused yourself, right? Why has a simple group gone so far and been able to go so far, one single person. What ss have you really gotten yourself into. We would have carried on pushing, carried on looking for you, so I thank you for contacting before things had to get serious. So what’s your proposal, so for both of our sakes this can be solved rather easily."
Since Max was part of this life before, he knew that not every individual was the sa. There were certain ways those in the space would act, but he would have to guess based off their personality, and he could guess Jett’s personality. The cadence said a lot. Pressure, yes, but not chaos. Confidence, but not blindness.
"Haha, I can’t believe it," Jett replied. "Am I really talking to a chairman of a venture capital firm? Right now, I feel like I’m talking to one of my own. It seems you know how to deal with things."
"Well it’s simple," he continued. "I want an offer to be made to get Sheri Curts back, sothing fair to put a stop to everything... you think of a number and it better be a good one. She will co back to you unhard. As for the second request, there is soone who works at your company who goes by the na Max. I want to have a eting with him, in fact why don’t you have him deliver the money, and whatever happens to him, happens, so, do we have a deal?"
The words landed one by one, flat and cold. Around Max, no one spoke. Air felt thinner. Even Darno, who couldn’t hear the other side, could read sothing in the way Max stood, shoulders set, gaze fixed on nothing, listening like every syllable mattered.
Max didn’t rush to answer. He let the offer stay there and fill the space. Jett had given him a shape: money for return, a eting for leverage, and a na spoken like bait. The ask was clear. The risk was clearer. He weighed the pieces without moving a muscle.
He rembered the last ti, how talking after the damage was done felt like trying to put the sky back together. This ti was not that. This ti, he had a line before the breaking point. He could feel that line in the exactness of Jett’s voice.
Darno’s thoughts moved in a steady loop, circling what this ant. They still don’t know about the link, he realized, watching the way Max’s expression didn’t shift. They don’t know what sits behind the curtain. The thought didn’t change anything they needed to do, but it changed the contour of it. The margins felt different when the other side didn’t see the full board.
Max breathed in once, slow and silent, then out. His grip on the phone stayed calm. Every second counted, and yet every second also needed to be used, not wasted. Words were the only tool he could use in this mont, and words had to be precise.
He kept his tone even. He didn’t add anything beyond what was already there. He didn’t push forward faster than the situation allowed. He didn’t let his anger decide the shape of his reply, even with Sheri’s na held out like a price tag.
Silence stretched. The room stayed still, watching him stand in it.
Max’s heartbeat leveled. He did not let it race. He did not let it slow. He set it the way he set everything else, on purpose.
He looked straight ahead at nothing in particular and listened to the quiet in his own head. The request was simple in structure and heavy in cost. The path forward had to be chosen with care, and yet the only way to walk it was one step at a ti.
Jett’s last words hovered. Do we have a deal?
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