The world blurred into streaks of motion as Ochieng spun, narrowly avoiding the blade aimed for his throat. The Ghost was fast—unnaturally fast. Every movement was precise, calculated, as if he could predict Ochieng's every reaction before it even happened.
Seline was still holding her ground, but barely. Linet's sniper fire had gone silent, likely forced to reposition. Rolex was covering Gideon, dragging him toward cover after a bullet grazed his leg.
Ochieng's mind worked at breakneck speed. This isn't just an assassination—it's a statement.
The Ghost wasn't here to kill and disappear. He wanted Ochieng to know who had come for him.
And then, The Ghost did something unexpected.
He stopped.
The eerie silence sent a chill down Ochieng's spine. The assassin stood motionless, his masked face tilted ever so slightly, as if studying Ochieng.
Then, Vincent Laurent spoke. "Fascinating."
Ochieng turned toward the smirking billionaire. "What's so fascinating?"
Vincent chuckled, slow and deliberate. "You." He gestured toward The Ghost. "He doesn't stop for anyone. And yet, here we are. What does that tell you?"
Ochieng's grip tightened around his blade. "That he wants something from me."
Vincent's eyes gleamed. "Or maybe… he remembers you."
The words hit like a thunderclap. Ochieng's stomach coiled.
Remembers me? How?
The Ghost shifted slightly, a subtle but deliberate movement. Then, in a voice distorted by a voice modulator, he finally spoke.
"You don't recognize me, do you?"
Ochieng's pulse pounded in his ears.
The voice… it was familiar. Buried somewhere in his past. A whisper from a life he had left behind.
Vincent sighed. "I was hoping you'd put the pieces together yourself. No matter. You'll remember soon enough."
And with that, the battlefield erupted into chaos once more.
The Ghost moved, and Ochieng barely had time to react.