Ochieng moved through the dimly lit corridor of the underground safe house, his mind calculating every possible outcome of the storm about to descend upon him. His enemies were no longer just corporate rivals or old foes with vendettas—they were an entire faction of the Council, and now The Ghost.
Rolex and Gideon were already in motion, their teams spreading like silent predators across the city. Linet was in contact with their international allies, ensuring they weren't blindsided. And Seline… she was a wildcard.
Seline stood near the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. "You don't trust me, do you?"
Ochieng didn't look at her. "Should I?"
She exhaled sharply, folding her arms. "I didn't come back just to betray you."
"Then why did you come back?"
She turned, stepping closer. "Because I know what's coming for you. And I can't—" She stopped herself, biting her lip.
Ochieng studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. "Your guilt won't undo the past. Whatever reason you have for being here, just know this: the moment you prove disloyal, I won't hesitate."
Seline met his gaze. "I know."
Before the conversation could go further, Rolex burst in. "Boss, we have movement. The docks. Unmarked shipments, heavy security. If The Ghost is really in town, this might be his first play."
Ochieng's eyes darkened. "Then let's greet him properly."
The air was thick with the scent of salt and diesel. Large cargo crates stacked like a maze surrounded the dimly lit dockside. Ochieng, Rolex, Gideon, and Linet moved like shadows, their presence unnoticed among the workers unloading shipments.
"Positions?" Ochieng murmured into his earpiece.
Gideon's voice came through. "North perimeter clear. No unusual activity."
Linet's tone was sharper. "South side has a problem. A convoy just arrived—blacked-out SUVs. Someone important is here."
Ochieng's gut tightened. "The Ghost?"
"We're about to find out."
A door creaked open, and from one of the SUVs, a figure emerged. Tall, dressed in an immaculate black suit, with an aura of calculated menace. The air around him felt heavy.
"That's not The Ghost," Rolex whispered. "But that's someone dangerous."
Seline, watching from a rooftop vantage point, adjusted her scope. "That's Vincent Laurent. The Ghost's right hand."
Ochieng's jaw clenched. If Laurent was here, The Ghost wasn't far behind.
The man gestured, and two bodyguards opened a crate. Inside, dozens of weapons gleamed under the dim light. Not just any weapons—prototype firearms, highly advanced.
"They're arming up," Gideon muttered. "This is a war declaration."
Ochieng made a split-second decision. "We intercept the deal. Now."
With a silent nod, his team moved. Rolex took the east flank, Gideon circled west, and Linet positioned herself for cover fire.
The moment the first guard turned, Ochieng struck—swift, lethal. In seconds, chaos erupted.
Gunfire. Shouts. Bodies hitting the ground.
Vincent Laurent barely flinched as he turned, locking eyes with Ochieng. "Impressive. But you're still underestimating who you're dealing with."
A slow smile spread across his face. "The Ghost is already here."
And just as he said it, the shadows shifted—silent figures emerging from the darkness.
Ochieng's blood ran cold. He had walked into an ambush.