The moment Ochieng stepped out of the arena, the air felt heavier. It wasn't just the exhaustion from the fight—it was something more. Something unseen.
The corridors of the underground fighting club were dimly lit, the walls echoing with murmurs and whispers. Fighters, spectators, and gang members alike had seen what he did.
And now, they feared him.
But fear was dangerous.
Fear led to resentment.
And resentment led to revenge.
Ochieng knew better than to stay longer than necessary. He needed to leave. Now.
But as he turned a corner—
A blade shot toward his throat.
---
Ochieng dodged at the last second, the cold steel barely grazing his skin.
His attacker—a man dressed in all black—moved with deadly precision. No wasted movements. No hesitation.
A trained killer.
Ochieng blocked another strike, his instincts taking over.
The fight was fast, brutal, and silent.
Steel clashed against flesh, fists against bone.
Ochieng countered with a devastating knee strike to the ribs, but his opponent didn't even flinch.
Poison.
Ochieng realized it instantly.
The assassin wasn't just strong—he was drugged to ignore pain.
A second attacker emerged from the shadows.
Then a third.
This wasn't a fight.
It was an execution.
---
Ochieng knew he couldn't fight them all head-on—not in this condition.
He needed to retreat.
A single glance around the corridor told him what he needed.
A loose pipe.
In a split second, he grabbed it and swung—
CRACK!
One assassin went down.
The other two lunged forward.
Ochieng grabbed the fallen man's dagger, twisting around to slash at the second assassin's arm.
Blood sprayed the wall.
But there was no time to finish him off.
More footsteps echoed in the distance.
Reinforcements.
Ochieng turned and ran.
Down the corridors. Up the emergency stairs.
He burst through the exit, into the city streets.
Neon lights flickered above him. The world outside continued as if nothing had happened.
But he knew better.
Someone wanted him dead.
And they weren't going to stop.
---
Far away, in a high-rise office, Shen Tao sat in his leather chair, watching the city below.
A man knelt before him, head lowered.
"We failed," the assassin reported.
Shen Tao's grip on his glass tightened.
He had underestimated Ochieng.
But it didn't matter.
He still had one final move.
A move that Ochieng would never see coming.
Shen Tao's fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished mahogany desk. The assassin before him remained kneeling, his breath shallow, waiting for his fate.
"I don't tolerate failure," Shen Tao murmured, his voice calm—too calm.
The kneeling man tensed.
In a flash, a sharp dagger whistled through the air—piercing straight into his throat.
The assassin collapsed without a sound.
Blood pooled around the marble floor, reflecting the glow of the city lights outside.
Shen Tao turned his attention back to the vast window. The skyline of Emerald City stretched endlessly before him.
"Ochieng…" he muttered, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
"You may have escaped tonight."
"But next time, you won't be so lucky."
He pressed a button on his desk.
A hidden compartment slid open, revealing a file labeled 'Operation Eclipse.'
Inside were blueprints, transaction records, and surveillance photos.
Each one revolved around Ochieng.
And at the bottom of the file—
A single phrase was written in red ink:
'Bury him where no one will ever find him.'
---
Ochieng didn't return to his usual hideout. He couldn't.
Not after that attack.
He slipped through the backstreets of Emerald City, blending into the shadows, until he reached a run-down motel.
The room smelled of damp wood and cheap cigarettes. It wasn't much—but it was safe.
For now.
Stripping off his bloodied shirt, he inspected the wound on his shoulder. A shallow cut, but deep enough to slow him down.
He grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and hissed as he poured it over the wound.
Pain meant he was still alive.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
He hesitated. Then answered.
"Ochieng," a familiar voice said, smooth and dangerous.
His grip tightened on the phone.
It was Veronica.
The last person he expected.
And the last person he could trust.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly.
There was a pause.
Then she whispered:
"You're in danger. Meet me at Midnight Club in one hour."
The line went dead.
Ochieng stared at the phone, his mind racing.
Was this a trap?
Or was Veronica really trying to help him?
Either way, he had no choice.
He had to find out.
---
The Midnight Club was a high-end, exclusive nightclub for the city's elite. A place where deals were made, alliances were broken, and secrets were exchanged for the right price.
Ochieng walked in, dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans—the complete opposite of the wealthy patrons who filled the club.
Eyes turned toward him. Some in curiosity. Some in disdain.
Let them look.
He spotted Veronica near the VIP lounge. She was wearing a red silk dress, her long dark hair cascading over one shoulder.
She looked dangerous.
And incredibly tempting.
But Ochieng knew better.
"Follow me," she murmured, leading him toward a private booth.
The moment they sat down, she leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"Shen Tao has put a bounty on your head."
Ochieng smirked. "I figured."
Veronica shook her head. "You don't understand. This isn't just any bounty. It's an open contract. Every assassin, gang, and bounty hunter in this city is looking for you."
Ochieng's smirk faded.
That changed everything.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
She hesitated. Then, for the first time, he saw uncertainty in her eyes.
"Because I owe you," she whispered.
Ochieng studied her. He wasn't sure if he could believe her.
But before he could respond—
Gunfire erupted inside the club.
Chaos. Screams. Shattered glass.
The bounty hunters had arrived.
And they were out for blood.
---