The night was thick with anticipation as Ochieng leaned against the black SUV, watching the entrance of the club like a predator waiting for its prey. His heartbeat was steady, his mind focused. He had played this game long enough to know patience was the real weapon, not brute force.
Victoria walked out first, her arm wrapped around Rogers's, her laughter like a melody floating through the air. She was good—too good. The way she leaned into him, the way her fingers brushed against his chest as if he were the only man in the world, was almost convincing enough to fool even Ochieng. Almost.
Rogers, unaware of the storm about to crash down on him, smirked as he led Victoria toward his waiting car. His bodyguards were sharp, their eyes scanning the area for threats. But they weren't sharp enough.
Ochieng tilted his head slightly, giving the signal.
In the next instant, the darkness erupted.
A silent shot took out the driver first. His body slumped against the wheel, the car horn blaring into the night. Confusion struck before panic, but by then, it was already too late.
Bruno was the first to move, emerging from the shadows like a phantom. His knife flashed under the dim streetlights, slicing through the first guard's throat before the man could even reach for his gun. Blood sprayed against the pavement, dark and glistening.
Jeff followed next, precise and ruthless. He took out the second guard with a single shot to the temple, the silencer muting the chaos.
Rogers barely had time to register what was happening before a strong hand gripped his throat and slammed him against the car.
Ochieng.
Their eyes met, one filled with panic, the other with ice-cold calm.
"Did you think you could hide from me forever?" Ochieng's voice was quiet, almost gentle. But the underlying menace made Rogers's throat go dry.
Victoria stepped back, her role in the charade over. She reached into her purse, pulling out a silver dagger, twirling it between her fingers like a deadly dance.
"What do we do with him?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement.
Ochieng leaned in closer to Rogers, watching the way his fear unraveled in real time. He thrived on this—on making men like Rogers realize just how small they truly were.
"We take him," Ochieng said simply. "He has answers I need."
Rogers struggled, but Jeff pressed the barrel of a gun against his ribs.
"Move."
With his face pale and sweat beading down his forehead, Rogers obeyed.
The shadows swallowed them whole as they disappeared into the night.
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