A deep, searing agony burned through Ochieng's side as he drifted between consciousness and oblivion. His body felt heavy, his limbs unresponsive, but the distant echoes of battle and the smell of blood kept pulling him back to reality.
Seline…
Her name formed in his mind like a cruel whisper. He forced his eyes open, blinking past the dizziness. The night sky above was fractured with fading moonlight, and the sounds of footsteps crunching against gravel sent a fresh wave of urgency through his veins.
He tried to move, but his body screamed in protest. Emmanuel's knife had struck deep. The Ghost was nowhere to be seen, but his presence still lingered like a phantom in the cold air.
A shadow moved.
Ochieng's instincts flared, and he rolled to the side just as a boot came crashing down where his head had been. Pain flared up his ribs, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his knees.
The woman who had shot Seline stood above him, her gun still smoking. Her dark eyes gleamed with amusement as she tilted her head.
"I expected you to be dead by now," she mused, clicking her tongue. "Guess The Ghost is getting soft."
Ochieng spat blood onto the ground. "Who the hell are you?"
She smirked. "Victoria."
The name meant nothing to him, but the way she carried herself—confident, ruthless—told him she was more than just an assassin.
His gaze flickered to Seline, who lay still, her breath shallow. The sight of her broken form reignited a fire within him. His fingers tightened into fists, and despite the pain, he forced himself to his feet.
Victoria laughed. "Still fighting? You should know when to stay down, Ochieng."
He wiped the blood from his lips. "And you should know that I don't die easy."
She aimed her gun at his heart. "We'll see about that."
Before she could pull the trigger, a sharp whistle sliced through the air.
Victoria stiffened, her expression shifting. Then, out of nowhere, a figure emerged from the darkness—a man dressed in black, his presence suffocating.
Ochieng's pulse quickened. He recognized that silhouette.
Rolex.
The underground legend. The man who ruled the shadows.
Victoria clicked her tongue. "You're late."
Rolex ignored her, his sharp gaze locking onto Ochieng. "You look like hell."
Ochieng exhaled a rough chuckle. "You should see the other guy."
Rolex turned to Victoria. "The job's done. Stand down."
Victoria hesitated, then holstered her gun. "Tch. Lucky bastard."
Ochieng didn't care about their exchange. His focus was on Seline. He staggered toward her, dropping to his knees beside her body. Blood soaked her dress, but her chest still rose and fell faintly.
"Seline…" He whispered, brushing her hair away from her face.
She opened her eyes slightly, her voice weak. "You're… still alive?"
A lump formed in his throat. "So are you."
She tried to smile, but pain flickered across her features. "Not for long… if you don't… get me out of here."
Ochieng turned to Rolex. "I need a medic. Now."
Rolex nodded, pulling out his phone. "Already handled."
Within minutes, black SUVs pulled up, their engines rumbling like thunder. Men in suits stepped out, weapons ready, but Rolex waved them off.
"Take them to the safe house," he ordered.
Ochieng didn't question it. Right now, all that mattered was keeping Seline alive.
As they loaded her into the vehicle, he cast one last look into the darkness. Emmanuel was still out there. And this wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.