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"Can I have your phone?" Hunter asked politely. The bounty hunter was taken aback at the sudden change in his attitude. Without daring to question Hunter's reason, he handed his phone. Going through the contact lists, Hunter asked for the man's number who wanted him dead. 

The killer obediently showed him the number in his phone saved as 'Big money'. Hunter shifted, stretching his torso a bit to pull out his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. He added the number to his contact list. Once going through the killer's call log list, he checked the details of their call history and timings and tossed his phone back to him. 

Hunter dialled Michael's number but got no response. His eyebrows furrowed in a frown as he focused on the screen, redialling the number. His instinct kept on nagging something was wrong but not because Michael didn't answer his call. Hunter could understand if his best friend didn't hear the ringing sound in the middle of his motorbike's loud roaring. 

.

Hunter was worried because Michael didn't return yet, nor did Victor. He contemplated whether to go in search of Michael or wait for him to come back. Hunter checked his wristwatch. Judging by the speed of his motorbike, it shouldn't take him this long. 

'He should've made it to the other end and returned by now.'

Hunter was in deep thought, a frown still intact on his face. The discomfort his blood-soaked clothing on his legs brought was hard to ignore anymore. He wanted to change out of them immediately, and his wounds needed urgent medical aid. 

'Or should I go back?'

He would have to face Hera, and Eric would get pissed because he hadn't reached out to him for help. Hunter groaned at that realisation. He hated confrontation, and it wouldn't be easy to explain everything in Hera's presence. Her reaction scared him the most. 

'My bleeding wound will frighten her for sure, and she'll get sick worrying about me.' 

The defeated bounty hunter was quietly watching, observing the different emotions playing on the boy's face, a very contrasting image to the one he faced earlier. He was a predator with one single goal of wiping out his attackers. He maintained a perfect poker face when he was fighting. But now he seemed distracted, and for a fleeting moment, the killer thought he could stab him in the chest and kill him. 

He flinched, jumping out of his thoughts when suddenly he heard Hunter curse. The boy looked frustrated for some reason. 

"Dude, you can leave, what are you still waiting for?" Hunter asked when he saw the man rocking back and forth in front of him. "Leave before I change my mind. I usually don't feel so generous about not killing my enemy," he stated in a bored tone. That was on point, and the bounty hunter couldn't thank his lucky stars enough. He had made the biggest mistake of his life by accepting that bounty. 

He wouldn't have dared if he had known who the boy was. The man inwardly scoffed at himself. What was he thinking by attacking the Lord of the mafia world? The name, Alexander was enough to cause terror, and now he understood the larger than life aura the boy possessed. No wonder he fought back so hard and looked so monstrous. The killer had harboured new-found respect for the boy. 

Not everyone from the crime world gets the privilege of meeting the Lord of the world mafia organisation himself. 

Hunter tried to stand up and winced before cursing. He limped with the first step but managed to steady his feet after the second one. Apparently, resting or relaxing was a bad idea because it only made it worse to lift his feet. He grabbed his jacket and wore it. His fingers pulled at the bandana tied over his head and secured it around the wound on his thigh, using it as a makeshift bandage. 

Meanwhile, the bounty hunter watched, tongue-tied. He couldn't help but appreciate the brave boy for how courageously he fought back, all by himself, alone and without any weapons to defend himself. 

Hunter sighed, eyeing his damaged motorbike. He would need strength to lift it to the standing position. Focussing all his energy, he adjusted his feet before holding the handlebar firmly with one hand while his other hand held the grab rail. As soon as Hunter pulled the bike, the man understood the boy was leaving. 

"Don't you want to meet my friend or Jackson? I'll take you to them, and I won't betray you I promise," the killer said. Hunter pursed lips and groaned, his legs hurt when he lifted it to mount his motorbike. He pushed the start button and smiled when it roared to life. 

The rest of the remaining riders arrived and rode past while Hunter twisted the throttle of his motorbike experimentally. He heard someone yelling his name and lifted his head to find Jake parking his bike. Samantha was with him, and she appeared a bit puzzled when she noticed the men lying around unconscious. Before any of them could ask questions, Hunter dismissed their concerned looks. 

"It's fine, Jake. All's good, let's go," he said and gestured to his friend to go ahead. Samantha's eyes ran over his body, and she gasped. He shook his head in response. She couldn't understand what he meant by that gesture. Was he telling her not to ask questions, or was he trying to assure her that he was all right? But she kept her mouth shut after assessing the damage around her. 

She wasn't that dumb to not understand there was a fight and he was injured. But the intimidating, no-nonsense attitude he wore scared her more, and she didn't dare open her mouth. Jake restarted his motorbike and waited for Hunter to join. 

Hunter looked at the injured bounty hunter who was anxiously awaiting his reply. "Thank you for the offered help. But I don't need it. Take your gang and leave before my men reach you if you want to live," he said, his tone disinterested, face void of emotions. Twisting the throttle, he took off, and Jake rode along. He had decided to find Michael first. He knew that asshole was up to something. 

They only covered a few miles when Hunter cursed loud and parked the bike at the left side of the broad empty road. As he expected, his best friend was there in the middle of the road, fighting with Victor, their motorbikes forgotten at the sides. 

"The fuck, Mike?" Hunter rushed towards them, grabbing Michael by his jacket and freed Victor from his death grip. "I told you to race him to the finish line, not to finish him," Hunter yelled, pissed at him. 

Victor was still struggling to breathe, gulping the air in as if he was taking his last breath. His forehead seems bruised, and Hunter guessed Michael had headbutted the poor boy. Other than that he could find no injuries on his body. But he saw how Michael had Victor in a headlock, choking the older boy. 

When Hunter glared at him, Michael returned his glare before scanning Hunter's tall form. Once he regarded the injuries, his gaze softened, but the concern remained only for a few seconds before his gaze hardened in anger. "And you said you'll manage on your own. I can see how well you managed," Michael snapped, his tone sarcastic. Hunter rolled his eyes. 

"I didn't die," Hunter stated. "Now can you explain this shit to me?" He asked while Victor crawled to the side, leaning against his motorbike. He looked exhausted, and Hunter turned his attention back to Michael. He arched an eyebrow, a silent command for him to justify his actions. 

Michael exhaled through his nostrils, annoyed at Hunter. "Look, Ace, I don't care if you treat him as a friend or not. But don't you think, the fucker would've stayed to help instead of taking advantage of your helplessness if he treated you as a friend? How can I let him win against my best friend?" Michael asked, yelling in frustration, and Hunter only shook his head at his reasoning.

"Mike, it doesn't matter if he's a friend or not. You forgot, I said a fair racing," Hunter reminded him. "You could've won against him, and that's what I asked," Hunter said, sounding disappointed. Michael sighed, his shoulders stiff. Running his fingers through his hair, he glared at Victor. 

"It's going to be a fair race now. I left Victor's hands and legs intact. I only hurt his cute little tummy," he said, smirking at Hunter. "I only wanted to stop him until you come back. Now you can race him, let's go," Michael said. Clenching his teeth, Hunter tried to curb his anger. He so wanted to punch his best friend now. 

"What if I hadn't come back?" He asked indignantly. 

"Well, I was going to come back to help you and to bring you back. I would never let you lose against anyone," Michael reasoned, tone matching Hunter's harsh one. 

"Thank you very much for coming back to help me," Hunter said, throwing sarcasm at him. 

Ignoring his best friend's jab, Michael walked towards Victor and offered his hand to help him. Victor stared at the hand, distrust written all over his face.