The aftermath of the death race rippled through the underworld like a shockwave.
Videos of Logan walking out of the explosion spread like wildfire. Some called it a miracle, others a show of sheer power and resilience. The legend of "Grey" was no longer just whispered among criminals—it was now being spoken in military circles, mercenary groups, and even among government operatives.
But while the world was buzzing, Logan and his crew had no time to celebrate.
---
Back at their base, Logan sat in the dimly lit living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His ribs still ached, but that wasn't what was on his mind.
Elsa leaned against the couch beside him, watching him carefully. "You're thinking too hard again."
Logan exhaled, swirling the drink in his hand. "This race wasn't just a spectacle. It was a statement. People are watching now. Salvador, my father, Jessica's dad, the military, and now even mercenaries like Darius."
Elsa nodded. "And?"
"And it means things are going to change."** His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it.**
Before Elsa could respond, the door swung open. Matthew, William, and Jessica entered, carrying bags of food and drinks.
Matthew tossed a bag onto the table. "You almost died, so we brought you burgers. It's a peace offering."
William smirked. "And whiskey. You deserve it."
Jessica sat down, stretching. "And I brought the best part—news."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
---
Jessica leaned forward. "First off, Salvador was impressed—really impressed. He's calling you into a meeting soon. My dad was also there, and he took note of how you handled yourself. He thinks you're someone who's going to 'tip the balance' soon."
Matthew scoffed. "That's cryptic as hell."
Jessica smirked. "That's just how he talks."
William looked at Logan. "And Darius Cross? He respects you now. He doesn't respect many people."
Logan sighed. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet."
Jessica continued. "But here's the bigger issue—word is, the Bureau of Justice is now paying attention to all of us. Your stunt in the race wasn't just dangerous; it was a declaration. We're no longer just underground players. We're on the radar of the people who hunt guys like us."
The room fell silent.
Elsa crossed her arms. "So, what do we do?"
Logan took a slow sip of whiskey before setting the glass down. His grey eyes sharpened. "We prepare."
---
Across town, in a secure military facility, Captain Carter watched the race footage again, this time slowed down.
One of his officers spoke. "Sir, Logan Holt isn't just dangerous—he's a wildcard. What's the plan?"
Carter exhaled. "We don't move yet. But we keep eyes on him."
The officer frowned. "And if he becomes a threat?"
Carter's expression darkened. "Then we handle it."
---
Meanwhile, in an extravagant cartel estate, Salvador sat in a private lounge, a cigar in one hand and a glass of fine liquor in the other.
Julian, his ambitious son, paced angrily. "We should control him, father. Logan is becoming a problem."
Salvador chuckled, taking a slow puff. "No, my son. He is becoming an opportunity."
Julian clenched his jaw. "You want to let him keep growing? What if he turns on us?"
Salvador smirked. "Then we make sure he never does."
He put out his cigar, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Call Logan in. It's time for a real conversation."
---
As Logan sat with his team, planning their next move, he knew one thing for certain—things would never be the same.
He wasn't just a triggerman anymore.
He was a player in the war to come.
Logan arrived at Salvador's private estate, escorted by two armed guards into a grand hall filled with luxury—gold accents, expensive liquor, and the scent of rich cigars. He had been here many times before, but tonight, the air was different. There was an undeniable tension, an expectation.
At the far end of the room sat Salvador, relaxed yet commanding, his fingers lightly tapping against the glass of whiskey in his hand. To his left stood Julian, his son, arms crossed, unreadable. Logan's father, George Holt, sat a few seats away, watching silently.
As Logan stepped forward, Salvador's deep voice cut through the silence.
"You made quite the statement at the death race, Logan." His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Second place and yet, you are the one everyone remembers."
Logan smirked, "I wasn't trying to make a statement, just trying to keep my people alive."
Salvador chuckled, swirling his drink. "And yet, here we are."
Julian finally spoke, his tone more measured than before. "You understand why we had to call you here, right?"
Logan met his gaze. "Because people are talking. And you want to know where I stand."
Salvador nodded, setting his glass down. "Loyalty is everything, Logan. You have proven yourself many times, but now, others are watching you—organizations, governments, mercenaries." His voice turned serious. "They will try to pull you away, make you their asset. I need to know, will you still be ours?"
The room fell silent.
Logan took a slow breath before answering, his voice steady.
"I have no interest in working for the Bureau of Justice, the military, or any other organization trying to recruit me. My father and I have always been loyal to this cartel, and that won't change." He let the words settle before continuing. "You're my go-to guy, Salvador. That's not changing either."
George nodded in quiet approval, while Julian's expression shifted—less guarded, more genuine.
After a moment, Julian spoke again, this time without hostility. "I'll admit, I had my doubts about you, Logan." He uncrossed his arms, stepping forward. "But after that race, after seeing the way you fight, the way you handle yourself—I respect it."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect that."
Julian smirked. "Neither did I." He extended a hand. "Let's put the past aside. No more tension between us."
Logan studied him for a second before gripping his hand in a firm shake. "Sounds good to me."
Salvador watched the exchange with satisfaction, then leaned back in his chair. "Good. That's what I like to see." He poured himself another drink, gesturing to the bottle. "Drink?"
Logan nodded, taking a seat as one of the guards poured him a glass.
The tension in the room had shifted. There was still a storm brewing on the horizon, but for tonight, Logan had secured his place in Salvador's world once again.
As the tension in the room eased, Salvador leaned forward, placing his glass down with a soft clink. "Logan, there's something else I need to discuss with you."
Logan remained composed. "I'm listening."
Salvador exchanged a glance with George before speaking. "The upcoming war is going to change everything. We've already begun making moves to secure our assets, alliances, and territory. You, more than anyone, know how unstable things are getting. When the time comes, I expect you to be ready."
Logan nodded. "I figured as much. When it starts, I'll be there."
Julian, now standing beside his father, crossed his arms. "You might want to prepare your crew too. This isn't just about business anymore—it's survival."
Logan smirked. "We're already ahead of that. My team isn't just some academy group anymore—we're all in this now."
Salvador grinned. "That's what I like to hear." He gestured toward the guards, who brought forward a sleek, black briefcase. One of them placed it on the table and unlatched it, revealing stacks of neatly arranged bills along with a gold-plated keycard.
"Consider this a bonus for your performance in the race. And the keycard—let's just say it gives you access to a few exclusive perks within our network. Weapons, intel, safehouses… use it wisely."
Logan picked up the keycard, turning it between his fingers. "Appreciate it."
Salvador chuckled. "You've earned it. But don't mistake this for charity—I expect results."
George finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "He won't disappoint."
Julian studied Logan for a moment before giving a small nod. "We'll see each other again soon, Grey."
Logan smirked at the nickname. "Looking forward to it."
With that, Salvador signaled for the meeting to conclude. Logan stood, pocketing the keycard and leaving the briefcase for his father to handle. As he turned to leave, Salvador's voice called out once more.
"Stay sharp, Logan. Things are only going to get bloodier from here."
Logan glanced back with a confident smirk. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
As he exited the hall, stepping out into the cool night air, Logan knew one thing for certain—this was only the beginning.