Chad could only stand there, staring at the chaos before him in wide-eyed awe. He'd seen fights before, small ones, quick bursts of violence in back alleys or behind closed doors. He'd seen the Black Hounds handle unruly guests, the kind of beatdowns that sent a message loud and clear.
Even those short, sharp skirmishes had rattled him to his core. The way those men moved, the force behind their blows, he'd known instantly that they could take down his guards without breaking a sweat.
But this… this was on another level entirely. A large-scale fight, dozens upon dozens of people clashing all at once, and somehow, no one outside this street even knew it was happening. It was chaos, but it was organized chaos.
And every single fighter wearing that black-and-red insignia belonged to Max.
How did he even pull this off? Chad thought, his mind scrambling for answers. How did he manage to gather so many people under him? Did he pay them all?
