The neon lights of Azure Nightclub flickered as the city pulsed with life. Unaware. Unprepared.
Outside, the air was thick with the scent of rain and gasoline—a sign of the storm that was about to break.
Ochieng sat with Celeste, their dangerous flirtation lingering in the air like a blade's edge. But beneath his cool facade, his instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
He glanced toward the balcony.
For just a second, he caught a glimpse of a shadow. A familiar presence. Lucian Moreau.
The bastard finally made his move.
---
A single gunshot shattered the music.
Chaos erupted.
Ochieng didn't hesitate. His body moved before his mind did, grabbing Celeste and flipping the table for cover.
Glass rained down. Screams echoed.
His eyes darted to the entrance—four men in tactical gear, automatic weapons in hand.
An ambush.
Lucian wasn't playing around.
Ochieng pulled Celeste close, his breath against her ear.
"Stay behind me."
She grinned. "Who said I needed protecting?"
Then—she pulled a gun from her thigh holster.
Interesting.
Ochieng didn't have time to think about it.
The next bullet came straight for him.
---
The fight was brutal.
Ochieng moved like a ghost, weaving through bullets, his own shots landing with deadly precision.
Celeste?
She was a storm in heels.
Her every move was calculated, her shots perfect.
Ochieng didn't trust her.
But damn, she was useful.
Blood painted the walls. Bodies hit the floor.
Then—silence.
Lucian was gone. Escaped.
But this wasn't over.
Not even close.
---
Ochieng leaned against the bar, catching his breath.
Celeste poured herself a drink, completely unfazed.
She turned to him, smirking.
"So, still think I have nothing you want?"
Ochieng chuckled, rolling his shoulders.
"Let's find out."
The night wasn't over.
And neither was the war.
---