Max stared down at the face in front of him. There was barely any swelling or damage to obscure the man's features, leaving little room for doubt. He was a member of the White Tigers.
He wasn't someone Max had been particularly close to. As the group's leader, Max had mostly communicated with the Cubs, who had then managed their own divisions.
Later, he had recognised the problem with that arrangement. It allowed the organisation to grow without him needing to oversee every member, but it also meant that those who joined often became loyal to their Cub rather than to the White Tigers as a whole.
Still, Max knew plenty of their faces. He remembered those who performed well on jobs and those who had stayed with the group for years.
The man lying on the floor belonged to that second category.
'When I attended my first Stern family gathering, Skinny Pete was there,' Max thought. 'One of the White Tigers' Cubs, standing among the guests.'
