Ochieng's penthouse sat atop the city, a fortress of wealth and secrecy. Yet, tonight, it felt less like a sanctuary—and more like a battlefield waiting to erupt.
He poured himself a drink, watching the skyline.
Behind him, Celeste leaned against the couch, her lips curled into that ever-mysterious smirk.
"You knew they were coming, didn't you?" she mused.
Ochieng didn't answer immediately. He swirled his glass, letting the silence stretch.
"Lucian never plays fair."
She laughed softly. "Neither do you."
Fair point.
Then—his phone buzzed.
A single message flashed on the screen.
"Check the security feed. Now."
His jaw tightened.
---
Ochieng moved swiftly to the hidden panel in the wall, revealing a high-tech security console.
The penthouse cameras flickered to life.
His eyes narrowed.
The elevator was stopped at the 43rd floor.
No movement. No request for access.
Suspicious.
He tapped another feed—the stairwell.
There. A figure. Cloaked in black. Moving fast.
Ochieng exhaled sharply.
An assassin.
---
Before he could react, the lights flickered.
Power outage.
Damn. They'd cut the mainline.
Ochieng turned to Celeste.
"You armed?"
She arched a brow, lifting her dress slightly to reveal the glint of a dagger.
"Always."
A sharp click echoed through the penthouse—the door unlocking.
They weren't alone anymore.
And the real fight was about to begin.
--
The assassin moved like smoke, barely making a sound.
But Ochieng was faster.
His first strike was brutal—a swift kick to the ribs.
The figure stumbled, but only for a second.
Then—steel flashed.
A knife slashed through the air, aiming for Ochieng's throat.
He barely dodged.
Celeste, however, didn't wait.
She launched herself at the intruder, her dagger meeting their blade in a deadly clash.
For a brief moment, Ochieng saw their face—cold, expressionless.
Not just any assassin.
A trained killer.
This wasn't a warning.
It was an execution attempt.
---
It didn't last long.
Ochieng caught the assassin's wrist, twisting it with brutal precision.
A sickening snap.
The knife fell. The body followed.
Dead.
Celeste exhaled, brushing her hair back.
"That was fun."
Ochieng didn't share the amusement.
He knelt, checking the body.
A crest was tattooed on the assassin's wrist.
A serpent devouring its own tail.
His blood ran cold.
This wasn't Lucian's work.
This was something far worse.
Something ancient.
And it had just come for him.