A cold wind swept through the ruined Zhao Syndicate hall, carrying the scent of blood and gunpowder. Lucien Zhao stood frozen, his entire empire crumbling before his eyes. The golden chandeliers still swung slightly, casting eerie shadows over the fallen bodies.
Ochieng slowly reloaded his gun, his movements precise, effortless. He was calm—too calm.
Lucien clenched his fists. "You think this is over?" His voice wavered. "You think you can just walk out of here?"
Ochieng tilted his head slightly. "I don't think, Lucien." He took a step forward. "I know."
Lucien's hand twitched toward his desk drawer.
Ochieng's gun was already aimed at his forehead.
"Don't."
Lucien hesitated.
The room was silent.
Aiden Xu, still kneeling beside the bodies, watched everything unfold. He had spent years in this world, had witnessed men fall and rise, had seen kings lose their crowns overnight.
But this?
This was different.
Ochieng wasn't just a player in this game. He was something far beyond it.
He was the unseen king.
Lucien let out a bitter laugh. "Do you even know what you've done?" His voice was hoarse. "You've started a war you can't win."
Ochieng's expression didn't change. "A war?" He holstered his gun. "Lucien, I don't fight wars."
He stepped closer.
His next words sent a chill down Lucien's spine.
"I end them."
Silence.
Lucien Zhao, the feared leader of the Zhao Syndicate, took an involuntary step back. For the first time in his life, he felt fear.
The doors behind Ochieng suddenly creaked open.
Tielen stepped in, his suit immaculate despite the chaos. Behind him, a dozen men in black stood silently, their presence alone suffocating.
"Boss," Tielen said smoothly, his hands in his pockets. "Everything's ready."
Ochieng nodded once.
Lucien swallowed hard. His mind raced, searching for a way out.
Aiden Xu slowly stood. His gaze locked onto Ochieng's, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.
Respect.
Recognition.
And then—a decision.
Aiden turned to Lucien.
"I think it's time you step down."
Lucien's eyes widened. "You—"
Aiden moved before he could finish. A single shot. A clean execution.
Lucien Zhao fell to the ground, his body motionless.
The Zhao Syndicate had fallen.
Ochieng turned without another glance, stepping over the blood-stained floor like a man walking through the rain—untouched, unaffected.
Tielen smirked. "What's next, boss?"
Ochieng buttoned his coat. His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of something far greater.
"Now?" He walked toward the exit.
"Now, we rebuild."