Max hated to admit it, but Darius was right. The man wasn't just a leader; he was a monster shaped by a level of combat that Max hadn't expected to encounter so soon.
During the frantic exchanges of the last few minutes, Max had managed to form a theory. He'd predicted that the punches and the sudden, lethal-looking attacks being thrown his way were nothing more than phantom hits. But knowing they were fake didn't make them any less dangerous. They were fundamentally different from a fighter simply feinting a jab to set up a hook, or a strategist setting a trap to lure an opponent into a specific corner of the ring.
