Chapter 25
POW!
A gunshot echoed through the room, sharp and deafening. One of the men who had been thought unconscious suddenly jerked awake, his pistol clutched tightly in his shaking hand. The muzzle flared, and in the blink of an eye, a bullet tore into Max's thigh.
{-10HP}
"Arghhh!" Max's voice cracked as he stumbled, crashing to the floor with Mia still cradled in his arms. His leg burned with raw pain, blood spilling fast as he grit his teeth.
His gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing at the shooter who was already charging toward him with murderous intent.
"No… you don't." Max growled through clenched teeth. His eyes darted around the room, and in one swift motion he seized the nearest heavy furniture.
With every ounce of his strength, he hurled it forward. The wooden mass smashed into the attacker with a brutal crack, flinging him into the wall hard enough to leave a deep dent.
"Da… Damian." Mia's weak voice trembled out, her body shivering in his hold.
"Save your strength. I'll get you to a hospital, I promise." Max whispered fiercely as he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain ripping through his thigh. With Mia secured in his arms, he dashed out of the ruined house.
In the yard, his eyes locked onto one of the parked cars. He yanked the back door open, gently laying Mia across the seat before limping into the driver's side.
'I remember my driving lessons back in my old life… this should work.' His thoughts were ragged but determined as he twisted the key and pressed down on the pedal.
The car roared to life, shooting forward like an arrow. Max's grip tightened on the wheel, his knuckles white as he swerved recklessly through the streets.
"Hang in there, Mia! Don't you dare leave me now. Just hold on a little longer!" His voice shook with desperation, but his eyes blazed with resolve as he sped past traffic lights, horns blaring behind him.
Minutes felt like an eternity, but finally the car screeched to a halt in front of a hospital. Tires screamed, smoke curling from the friction.
Max shoved the door open and rushed to the back seat, scooping Mia up into his arms. His leg screamed in protest, but he ignored it, storming through the hospital doors.
"Doctor! Nurse! Somebody, help!" His voice thundered across the silent reception.
A stretcher was wheeled toward him almost instantly, and Max gently placed Mia on it, his trembling hands brushing her hair from her pale face.
"What happened to her? Why is she in this state?" A male doctor burst out of his office, his eyes wide.
"There's no time for questions, just get her to the damn operating room!" Max snarled, his crimson eyes flashing with a sudden glow that lasted only a moment. The doctor froze, shaken by the sight, before quickly signaling to the nurses.
They rushed Mia into the theatre as the doctor adjusted his gloves. "I'll do everything I can to save her. But you'll need to deposit three thousand dollars first."
"I'll pay it. Just save her!" Max barked, his chest heaving. A wet drip echoed against the tiles, and the doctor glanced down, finally noticing the trail of blood running down Max's thigh.
"Your leg… Do y—"
"Forget about me!" Max snapped, cutting him short. "Get in there and treat her! I'll get the money." His eyes hardened as he turned away, limping out of the hospital doors without another word.
The doctor lingered for a moment, unsettled. 'He didn't even fill a form… but the urgency in his voice… the way he looked…' Shaking his head, the man rushed into the operating room.
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Outside, Max slid into the driver's seat again, his jaw tight. The moment the engine roared alive, he floored the pedal. The car shot forward like a beast freed from chains.
Now that Mia wasn't inside, he no longer held back. The world around him blurred into streaks of color—cars, buildings, streetlights all swallowed by his furious speed.
He drove like a man possessed, like a stunt driver ripped straight out of a Fast and Furious movie, every second fueled by his desperation.
Honk, honk!
Max leaned hard on the horn as he swerved past a sluggish car, his eyes narrowed and his focus sharp. In just a few minutes, the car screeched to a halt at the end of the road.
"It can't go through the slum's road, so I have to walk… no! I have to run," Max muttered under his breath as he flung the door open and bolted out.
Pain flared in his legs with every step, but he pushed forward, running as though his life depended on it. His breathing grew ragged, but the thought of slowing down never crossed his mind.
Alleyways blurred by him one after another, the familiar stench of trash and damp walls hitting his nose as he dashed through. He was moving so fast, so recklessly, that he had completely forgotten to transform back to his human appearance.
He sprinted past the alleyway where he always got drenched, then past a few more crooked lanes until finally he broke into the main town.
But something was off. Different. The streets felt heavier, the air tighter, as though the town itself had shifted while he was away. He didn't have the luxury of pausing to figure it out because his mind was locked on his shabby little house.
He kept running until...
Bam!—his shoulder slammed into a man.
"Hey, watch it!" the man barked, his voice rough and laced with irritation.
"I'm sorry," Max said quickly, brushing past, but before he could escape, a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Wait a damn second. Your face isn't familiar on these streets. Who the hell are you? And have you paid your offering today?" The man's grip tightened as his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Max turned his head, his face scrunched in annoyance. "Let me go," he said softly. But a low growl rumbled from the man in response.
"Or else what? Do you even know who I am? Do you know who we are?" The man shoved his arm forward, revealing a grey armband with the symbol of a bull etched across it.
'We?' Max's eyes flickered. He finally allowed himself to take in the scene properly.
His gaze swept across the street, and then he saw it.
Dozens of men moved like predators, pounding on doors and dragging terrified residents out into the open. They snatched coins, valuables, whatever they could get their hands on.
All of them wore the same grey bands with the bull insignia, moving in packs like wolves. Some carried chains that rattled with each step, others swung wooden bats or clutched heavy sticks. A few even flashed pocket knives, jabbing them at anyone who hesitated to pay.
Fear hung thick in the air. The townspeople trembled as they were shoved and beaten into submission.
'So that's why everyone looked so tense earlier… gang members. But what are gangsters doing in a place like this?' Max thought, his brow furrowed.
'Back where I came from, we had mafia syndicates, but not street gangs like these. Is this some other world entirely? No… stop. Focus. Not now.'
"Pay up your damn due," the man barked again, snapping Max out of his thoughts.
Max's lips curved slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Or what?"
Before the man could answer, Max's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard with all his strength. The man howled in pain, his yelp loud enough to turn heads.
Almost instantly, shadows closed in around Max. One by one, more of the bull-marked gang members converged, their weapons gleaming under the dim streetlights.
Within moments, twenty men surrounded him in a tightening circle. Their eyes glinted with violence, chains swung idly, bats were raised, knives ready to stab.
Max glanced down at his leg, feeling the dull throb of pain, then back up at the enemies closing in.
He only had an injured body, a few skills to rely on—yet now he was facing twenty armed gang members.
And there was no way out.