CHAPTER 282: BENEATH THE SURFACE

Slowly, Max’s eyes began to flutter open. He had expected it to be difficult, bracing himself for pain to shoot through his body. But instead, it felt more like he was trying to control someone else’s limbs, like he had been placed in a body that wasn’t quite his own.

His arms, his legs, they responded sluggishly at first, unfamiliar in their movements, but gradually, they began to cooperate.

Even without opening his eyes fully, he knew where he was. The sterile scent of antiseptic, the faint humming of machines, it was unmistakable. He was in a hospital.

And he remembered. All of it.

Everything that had happened came rushing back to him like a nightmare he couldn’t shake. After going through all that, he wasn’t too surprised to find himself in this place.

What did surprise him, though, was the lack of pain. His body wasn’t aching like he’d expected. His head didn’t throb. In fact, if anything, he felt... refreshed, like he’d been given a second chance, reborn in a body that had shed all its bruises and burns.

When he finally turned his head to the side, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Aron standing right there. His posture was stiff, his shirt wrinkled, and his eyes were ringed with deep, dark bags, evidence that sleep hadn’t come easily.

One of Aron’s eyes even twitched slightly, probably from an unhealthy amount of caffeine used to keep himself awake and alert.

"You idiot," Max mumbled softly, his voice hoarse but steady.

Aron turned his head quickly, and upon seeing Max awake, a tired smile immediately bloomed across his face.

"You’re finally awake," Aron said, relief flooding his tone. "Did you manage to sleep well?"

"I definitely slept better than you," Max replied, looking him up and down. "Judging by your eyes, I was out for quite a while."

Max was honestly surprised that the hospital room wasn’t in complete chaos. After all, the last thing he remembered was going up against the Black Hounds, one of the more dangerous and organized groups out there.

If the Black Hounds had learned the truth about what happened that day, he was certain they’d come hunting. Maybe they had chosen to back off because he was a Stern, but Max doubted that. After all, they had gone after Chad, and he was one of their own.

"How long have I been here?" Max asked, finally sitting up with some effort.

"Three days," Aron replied. "But don’t worry, I’ve handled the situation with the Black Hounds. They won’t know what really happened that day, or whether it was connected to you at all. As for Chad... he’s currently being kept with the Pit Members."

He paused before continuing. "We should be able to finally get some answers from him. About what he’s done, and his involvement in all of this."

Max nodded. He trusted Aron. If there was anyone he could rely on right now, it was him. The way he had stepped up and taken control of the situation, it gave them some breathing room, some time.

But Max wasn’t sure how much.

Because of Chad, Vivian, who hadn’t even been there the day it all went down, had come to him directly. Chad had told her that Max was the answer to their money problems.

And now, everything had changed.

He doubted the Black Hounds would see this incident as connected to him. If there were no survivors left to question, no one to point fingers, they’d most likely assume it had been the work of a rival gang settling a score.

Still, eventually, there was a chance, no, a likelihood, that Vivian would come back around. And when she did, Max would have to make one thing crystal clear:

This wasn’t his debt. It was Chad’s.

And if that answer wasn’t good enough, if Vivian or anyone else refused to accept it, then Max needed the Bloodline group to be big enough, strong enough, and dangerous enough to handle whatever came next.

"Unfortunately," Aron said, interrupting his thoughts, "cleaning up the situation did cost you... everything. Your entire earnings from that fight with Dud, it’s all gone."

Max wasn’t surprised.

He had already suspected that Aron had gambled everything he had during the fight. That was the only explanation for the sudden surge in power he’d seen. The timing, the force, it all made sense now.

But with all that money spent, the strength he had relied on back then was gone. He wasn’t as powerful as he had been during the Dud fight. If he had to face someone on Dud’s level now...

He’d probably lose.

At least until he found another way to earn it all back.

Twice now, I’ve gotten lucky, Max thought, clenching his jaw. If I end up in another desperate situation like that... I feel like the more I gamble with this power, the higher the chance it all lands on black.

"There’s one more thing," Aron added cautiously. "Dud... he managed to escape."

Max’s eyes widened.

"We rounded up almost everyone," Aron continued. "But he had a sudden burst of energy, slipped away before we could stop him. He was heavily injured, though. More than you. I doubt he’ll be trouble again... not for a while."

Max could feel it, blood boiling in his veins, surging down into his fists.

He couldn’t believe it.

He’d thought it was over. He’d believed he had finally dealt with Dud, that either he was dead or locked up behind a cell somewhere. Either of those options would’ve been a win.

But now?

Now he had to worry all over again.

I thought I paid you back, Jay. For everything that happened... but it looks like there’s still a shadow following me after all.

Just as Aron opened his mouth to say something else, there was a knock on the door.

"It’s Wolf!" a familiar voice called from the other side.

"Come in," Aron said.

As the door opened, Wolf stepped in. Max’s eyes scanned him quickly. He was limping slightly, a few visible wounds on his arm and neck. Max didn’t think too much of it, after all, Wolf had been there during the Black Hounds mess. It made sense that something had happened.

But it was who came in next that truly caught Max’s attention.

Chad.

He followed right behind Wolf into the room.

For a moment, Chad’s eyes locked with Max’s. The tension between them was palpable. But then, Chad turned sharply to Wolf.

"Hey! Hey, have you set me up?" Chad snapped, voice rising. "You told me you were taking me to your boss. I want to talk to the leader of the Bloodline group!"

"Shut up," Wolf growled.

The usual calm, sarcastic Wolf was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t joking.

He was serious. And angry.

"The person in front of you," he said coldly, gesturing to Max, "is the leader of the Bloodline group."