From Bullets To Billions

When Max returned to school, it was a Friday, the last day before the weekend.

And that meant something else: tomorrow, his time would be up.

It was the day the Black Hounds had promised to come for him.

While the teacher droned on at the front of the room, Max sat in his seat, eyes locked on his notebook but his thoughts miles away. His mind was working overtime, trying to plan, trying to prepare.

'I've done what I can to get ready for the worst outcome tomorrow... but what would've helped the most is if I could've increased my strength, my power, as much as possible before the big day,' Max thought, grinding his pen against the page in frustration.

His gaze flicked to the numbers and notes scribbled in the margins of his notebook. Calculations. Figures. Timelines. He had been racking his brain for any way to increase his money, fast.

His business was doing well. Better than well. It was growing at such a pace that he could actually feel the results in his own body. Every day, he felt stronger, his vow transforming his financial gains into physical growth.

But even with that, it wasn't enough. Not yet. Not to take on a group like the Black Hounds.

The only shortcut he could think of, the only way to multiply his wealth in a single blow, was gambling.

But there were two problems with that.

First, even the underground gambling ring they were using had a maximum bet cap of ten million. That alone shut down most of the more "creative" strategies he could have employed.

And second... well, Max wasn't a gambler. Not really.

Sure, he'd won before. But the thought of risking his money made him feel sick. It wasn't about the thrill, it was about control. And Max hated the idea of losing what he'd worked for. He couldn't shake the thought that winning once meant he was more likely to lose next time, even though he knew the odds didn't really work that way.

He wasn't wired for risk like that. Not unless it was a guaranteed loss, one he could flip into a trap. If he knew he was going to lose and had a plan to make that loss useful… maybe then.

Maybe.

But that wasn't where he was today.

When the first break rolled around, Joe came over like he always did, spinning the empty chair around before plopping into it backward. This time, though, the gesture felt more intentional.

Max glanced up, and froze.

Joe was staring straight at him, a huge grin stretching across his face. It wasn't his usual dorky smile either, it was... unsettling.

"That smile is really creeping me out," Max said, his brow furrowing. "If you're just gonna stare and grin like that, I'd rather you do it from, like, a full meter away."

Joe blinked, snapped out of whatever headspace he'd been in, and quickly looked away. His eyes landed on Max's notebook, on the numbers and symbols scattered across the page.

'I want to ask him,' Joe thought, 'I want to ask him so badly… is he really Max Stern? From that Stern family?'

He was almost sure. Ninety-eight percent sure, in fact. But that last two percent? It gnawed at him.

'If I find out for sure… what do I even do next?' Joe wondered. 'Ask for a raise? Try to cut a better deal? How do you even negotiate with a guy like that?'

And what if there was a reason Max had been keeping it secret? What if saying the wrong thing got him… erased? Silenced? Did the Stern family even do that?

Aron's name flickered through his mind.

But then Joe shook the thought away. Max didn't strike him as the kind of person who would just off someone for finding out the truth.

'Right… because Max is more the type to shove a pencil down your throat himself.'

Before Joe could say anything, Max interrupted his thoughts.

"Joe," Max said suddenly, his voice low but clear.

Joe looked up, startled.

"You're not busy this weekend, are you?"

"No, I'm completely free," Joe replied quickly. And the moment he said it, he felt a little pang of sadness. Seventeen years old, a full weekend ahead of him... and no plans? Kinda depressing, honestly.

"I want you to head to the gym," Max said. "Steven will be there, and Aron too. Something might be going down this weekend. I need all of you to be ready, and in top condition."

"A fight?" Joe asked. "But didn't we already deal with all the schools in Birnhurst? Are we finally expanding... or is this something else?"

Max didn't answer right away. He glanced out the window, expression unreadable.

"I'm afraid... it's something a bit bigger than just high school drama," he finally said. "Just make sure you bring your uniform. And don't worry, if you handle it well, there'll be a reward in it for you."

Joe grinned, his curiosity spiking. This might be the moment. If he asked now, if he played it right, maybe he could finally get Max to tell him the truth. About the money. About who he really was.

But then the bell rang, echoing through the school and cutting their break short.

Joe slumped. Another missed opportunity.

Maybe next time.

At lunch, the girls from the other class came over, and the group headed toward the canteen together. Joe thought about asking again, but not in front of them. Knowing was one thing. Letting others know? That might cross a line.

The day passed in pieces. Little moments that came and went, and before he knew it, the chance was gone.

Joe sulked all the way to the gym.

'I guess I'll just have to ask him tomorrow... at whatever this thing is.'

That evening, Max didn't train.

It was the day before the fight, and he had a rule, only light work the morning before. Just enough to stay warm, to stay limber. No pushing. No overtraining.

With his vow constantly improving his body's capabilities, he'd started noticing something new, his natural healing had improved too. He could push harder in training, recover faster, and make real, visible progress.

All of that was good news. Because tomorrow was the day.

He'd already told Aron where to go. He wouldn't need a pickup. Everything was planned out.

So, when there was a knock at the door that morning, Max didn't even flinch.

He already knew who it was.

'It's them,' he thought as he stood and took a deep breath.

'The Black Hounds.'