Marlon hadn't bothered to lower his voice, and of course, the gang members—now known as AX—heard every single word he'd said. His blunt comment about their weakness struck a nerve. They froze, visibly offended, exchanging tense glances. After all the blood, sweat, and bone-deep exhaustion Axel's brutal training had put them through, they'd felt stronger—hell, 200% stronger! Axel had rebranded the crew and reshaped their entire foundation. To them, they'd evolved into a more lethal and disciplined version of who they once were. But here this stranger was, casually tossing out the word "weak" like it meant nothing.
A few of them clenched their jaws. One hotheaded member, known for losing control in the ring, whispered fiercely to the man next to him, "Who the hell does this kid think he is? He wants a fight, I'll give him one—"
"Don't," someone hissed, grabbing his arm before he could take a step. "He came with Axel. You touch him, you're dead."
