The Invitation

It didn't come as a huge surprise to Max that the Black Hounds knew where he lived.

They already knew which school he attended. And more importantly, they knew he was a genuine member of the Stern family. After all, they had confidently claimed they'd be in touch within two days, so Max had been expecting something like this.

If anything, he had half-expected them to try and provoke him, maybe to see if he'd run.

But when Max went to the door, the real surprise wasn't that someone had shown up. It was who was standing there.

A bald-headed man dressed head to toe in black stood on the porch. His appearance screamed street thug, rough hands, sun-worn skin, eyes that didn't blink often.

If Max had passed him on the street, he would've avoided eye contact entirely. He was the kind of man most people instinctively avoided, the kind of man you didn't want to be on the wrong side of.