The days passed, and with each one Joe found it stranger that he hadn't heard a single word from Max. The Bloodline Group was running smoothly, but most of the orders seemed to come from Wolf or Montez now. They oversaw operations, organized tasks, and kept people busy.
Joe, one of the original Rangers, found himself drifting. Doing a little bit of nothing.
He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen. "It feels weird to contact him first," he muttered. "But at the same time… what kind of friend doesn't even check in?"
His pay had arrived as expected, so at least that part of things was steady. But that wasn't what weighed on him. What gnawed at him was the silence. After everything Max had been through, after everything they had been through, the quiet felt wrong.
And whenever he thought about breaking it, one memory stopped him, the gunshot.
