The gunshot echoed like thunder.
For those closest to Max and Chrono, the sound triggered an instinctive reaction, they flinched, their eyes squeezing shut. When they dared to open them again, they froze.
Max was still standing tall, the cold metal weapon clutched in his hand, its barrel aimed directly at the man on the ground. For a moment, many forgot to even breathe.
Some wondered if he'd missed, if the bullet had struck the floor or the wall instead.
But those near enough to see clearly knew the truth.
The bullet had torn straight through Chrono's skull. His eyes were still open, wide and glassy, the life gone from them entirely. His body lay limp, utterly still.
Chrono was dead.
The Bloodline Group had always known Max carried anger, a fury sharper than anyone else's. They had followed him because he was decisive, because he acted without hesitation when others froze.
But this?
This was different.
