Ochieng sat in silence long after Veyron had left. The weight of the golden chess piece still lingered in his hand, even though it was no longer there. He knew what that moment had meant—he had just declared war.
And Veyron wasn't the kind of man to let something like that slide.
Ezekiel was the first to break the silence.
"You know what you just did, right?"
Ochieng didn't look at him. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
"I didn't start this game," he murmured. "But I sure as hell intend to finish it."
Dmitri chuckled. "That's what I like to hear."
But Nadia? She was staring at Ochieng with something else in her eyes.
Worry.
"You don't understand," she said. "Veyron doesn't play fair. You think you just won something, but in reality, you put a target on your back. On all of us."
Ochieng met her gaze. "Then we better make sure we shoot first."
---
The group dispersed, but Ochieng knew this wasn't over.
As he stepped outside the dimly lit building, a gust of cold wind greeted him. The streets of Emerald City were never truly empty, even at this hour. He pulled his coat tighter, his mind replaying every detail of the encounter with Veyron.
Something wasn't right.
And he was proven correct when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead.
A woman.
Tall. Dressed in a sleek black coat. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked toward him.
Ochieng didn't move.
He recognized her.
Celeste.
One of Veyron's top operatives. A fixer. A cleaner. A ghost.
She stopped a few feet away, her lips curving into a dangerous smile.
"You really shouldn't have done that," she said softly.
Ochieng remained still. "What? Made your boss look weak?"
Celeste's eyes gleamed. "Exactly."
There was no hostility in her voice. No anger. Just cold amusement.
"But that's the thing about Veyron," she continued. "He doesn't get angry. He gets even."
Ochieng raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"
Celeste chuckled. "No, Ochieng. It's a fact."
She reached into her pocket and pulled something out.
A small, silver envelope.
She held it out.
"Veyron wanted you to have this," she said.
Ochieng didn't take it immediately. He studied her, searching for deception. But Celeste only smirked, waiting.
Finally, he took the envelope and tore it open.
Inside—
A single playing card.
The Ace of Spades.
And on the back, in elegant handwriting, a message:
"Your next move better be your best one."
Ochieng exhaled through his nose, folding the card between his fingers.
Then he looked up at Celeste.
"You tell your boss," he said, his voice steady, "that I don't play by his rules."
Celeste's smile widened.
"That's exactly what he's counting on."
Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared into the night.
Ochieng clenched the card in his fist.
This wasn't just a warning.
It was an invitation.
And he had just been pulled even deeper into the game.
---