The SUV roared through the empty streets, its tires slicing through puddles left by the evening rain. Ochieng sat in the backseat, pressing down on Seline's wound, his hands slick with her blood. Her breathing was faint, her pulse weak, but she was still alive.
Barely.
Across from him, Rolex leaned against the door, his sharp eyes flickering between Seline and Ochieng. The interior of the vehicle was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the engine and Seline's labored breaths.
"She won't last if we don't get her proper treatment," Ochieng muttered, his voice thick with urgency.
"She'll make it," Rolex replied coolly. "I called ahead. They're waiting."
The car took a sharp turn, and in the distance, a secluded mansion loomed beyond the trees. The moment they reached the gates, they swung open without hesitation, revealing a heavily guarded compound. Armed men stood at every corner, their eyes cold and unyielding.
They pulled up in front of the grand entrance, and the doors were flung open before the car even stopped moving. A team of medics rushed out, pulling Seline from the vehicle. Ochieng moved to follow, but Rolex placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"She's in good hands," he said. "You, on the other hand, need answers."
Ochieng clenched his fists. "Answers won't save her life."
"No," Rolex agreed. "But they might save yours."
Reluctantly, Ochieng allowed the medics to take Seline inside. Rolex motioned for him to follow, leading him through the grand halls of the estate. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and old leather, the walls lined with portraits of men who had once ruled the underworld.
They entered a dimly lit study, where a man sat behind a massive oak desk. He was older, his graying hair slicked back, his tailored suit immaculate. His sharp features bore the weight of experience, and when he looked up, his gaze pinned Ochieng in place.
Walter Glowtune.
One of the most powerful men in the city.
Ochieng had heard the name whispered in the darkest corners of the underworld. The Glowtune family controlled wealth beyond imagination, but their hands were stained with the blood of those who dared cross them.
Walter studied Ochieng with quiet interest before speaking. "You look like your father."
Ochieng stiffened. "You knew him?"
Walter exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Knew him? Boy, I built an empire with him."
Silence stretched between them as Ochieng processed the weight of those words. His father—the man he barely remembered—had been more than just a ghost from his past. He had been a part of something far bigger than Ochieng had ever imagined.
"You're in the middle of a war," Walter continued. "One you don't fully understand yet. But that's about to change."
Ochieng's jaw tightened. "I don't care about wars. I just want to protect the people I love."
Walter chuckled. "And that, my boy, is exactly why you'll win."
Rolex stepped forward, tossing a folder onto the desk. "Emmanuel isn't working alone. There's someone bigger backing him."
Ochieng grabbed the folder and flipped it open. The first page alone sent a shiver down his spine.
The name at the top was one he never expected to see.
Brian Omondi.
The same Brian who had mocked him. The same Brian who had always acted superior.
Ochieng's hands curled into fists. The pieces were falling into place, but the picture they painted was far darker than he had anticipated.
Walter leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "The question is, Ochieng… what are you going to do about it?"
Ochieng closed the folder, his mind made up.
He was going to finish this war before it destroyed everything he held dear.