CHAPTER 415: ANSWER MY CALL!

Rushing around the dock, Max continued to shout. The further he went, the more he realized the place was far larger than he’d expected. Rows of shipping containers stretched into the distance, towering walls of rusted metal that made the area feel like a maze. Every turn looked the same; every echo of his own footsteps blended with the ones chasing him. At one point, he even found himself back where he’d started, the men he had beaten earlier were still rolling on the floor, groaning in pain.

I have to hurry, Max thought, gritting his teeth as his breath came heavy. Who knows how the others are faring? Without Aron there with them... I worry.

"SHERI!!!" he yelled, his voice raw from shouting. "If you can hear me, give me a signal!"

The call bounced off metal walls, spreading in overlapping echoes. Max turned a corner, and came face-to-face with four men wearing sharp, mocking smiles.

"Seriously," one of them sneered, "did you think running around shouting for the person you’re looking for wouldn’t let us know exactly where you were?"

They expected him to hesitate, to back away, but instead, Max sprinted straight toward them. His body moved before his thoughts could catch up. He jumped into the air, knees bent, and his leg shot up, his knee slammed directly into the first man’s face. The impact sent the Black Hound member sprawling backward, but Max didn’t let him fall freely.

He twisted midair, wrapping his legs around the man’s neck as they rolled across the ground. Using that motion, Max tightened his hold and choked the man into unconsciousness. Another enemy moved to stomp down on him, but Max released the first man at the perfect moment, rolled backward, and spun up to his feet. His heel lashed out and struck the attacker across the jaw with a sickening crack.

All of the techniques I’ve copied... every fight I’ve survived, it all adds up, Max thought, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of combat. Using the experience of my past life and the dangers I’ve faced, then adding the vow’s power on top of it...

He ducked under another swing and drove his fist into a man’s ribs, the strike sharp and deep enough to make the air burst out of his lungs. Before the man could recover, Max followed up with a second blow, one to the face that twisted his head violently and sent him collapsing to the floor.

"I might have spent some money recently," Max said, straightening and looking over the unconscious bodies, "but I’m by no means an easy target."

At the beginning of this whole ordeal, he had been tense, his body wound tight with adrenaline and fear, but the more he fought, the looser he became. Each movement felt smoother, each strike cleaner. His pulse still pounded, but there was rhythm to it now, control.

He took off again, weaving between containers. "SHERI!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the dockyard. His calls and cries didn’t go unheard.

Inside one of the containers, Sheri lifted her head. The faint, distant voice was muffled by steel, but she swore she heard her name. At first, she thought she was imagining it, until she saw Anton’s expression shift. He had heard it too.

"Who is that?" Anton asked, brow furrowing as he turned toward the narrow crack of light seeping through the slightly open door.

Sheri’s heart pounded. She couldn’t make out the voice clearly, but whoever it was sounded desperate, and alive.

"SHERI!" The voice came again, louder this time. "Answer me if you can hear me! Where are you?"

She didn’t know who it was, but from the urgency in the tone, she could tell it was someone trying to save her. Maybe it was the police, maybe her mother had somehow done something, maybe,

Hope surged through her chest.

"I’M HERE!" Sheri screamed, her voice bursting through the confined space, echoing off the metal walls. She kicked at the inside of the container’s wall, her leg pounding over and over, making the steel ring.

"What’s going on?" one of the guards shouted, turning back toward the noise.

Panic lit Anton’s face. He darted forward, grabbing Sheri roughly and clamping his hand over her mouth while pulling her away from the door. "What are you doing, Sheri? Don’t be foolish! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" His tone cracked with fear, fear for himself, not for her.

"Whoever’s calling your name, these guys are going to deal with them," Anton said through clenched teeth. "I already told you, I have everything under control! If you make a scene like this, there won’t be anything I can do to help you anymore!"

Sheri struggled violently, muffled grunts rising from under his palm as she tried to kick him off. Her nails clawed at his arm, but he held on tightly. The two guards near the entrance exchanged irritated looks.

"If you don’t shut her up, we will!" one of them barked.

"Hey," a voice called out from behind them.

Before the guards could even turn fully, one was yanked backward by his shirt and slammed hard into the ground. The sound of bone hitting concrete echoed through the container. The attacker didn’t hesitate, he lifted his foot and stomped down on the man’s face, knocking him out cold.

The second guard barely had time to react before a swinging arm crashed into his skull, sending his head ricocheting off the metal wall. As he stumbled, a hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him into the container again, once, twice, until he crumpled down in a heap.

"That’s not something you should say," the newcomer’s voice said coolly.

Anton froze. Sheri stopped struggling. Both turned their heads toward the entrance. Standing there, framed by the dim light spilling through the gap, was a red-haired young man, his presence radiating fury and control all at once.

Anton’s grip fell away from Sheri’s mouth. For a moment, disbelief rooted him in place.

"Max..." Sheri breathed, her voice trembling.