Ochieng stood motionless, his heartbeat steady despite the storm brewing around him. The rain had washed away the footprints of those who had just left, but their words lingered like a ghost he couldn't shake.
"Forty-eight hours."
A time limit on his own existence.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over a contact he hadn't called in years. A single name flashed on the screen—"Tilda."
With a deep breath, he pressed the call button.
The line rang once. Twice. Then a soft click.
"You finally decided to stop running?" Tilda's voice was smooth, unreadable.
Ochieng exhaled. "I need your help."
A pause. Then a slow, amused chuckle. "Of course, you do."
Tilda was not someone you turned to lightly. She didn't do favors—she did transactions. And each one came with a cost.
"Where are you?" she finally asked.
Ochieng hesitated. Then, in a tone laced with resignation, he said, "Emerald City."
A sharp inhale from the other end. "You shouldn't have come back, Ochieng."
He knew that. But he had no choice.
"Can you meet?"
Tilda sighed. "Midnight. The old warehouse. And Ochieng?"
"Yeah?"
"Come alone. If I see Derick or Gideon anywhere near, I'll kill you myself."
The line went dead.
Ochieng lowered the phone, his jaw tightening. This was his last chance. Either he left now and kept running forever, or he faced his past and put an end to it.
Either way, by sunrise, everything would change.
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