The city skyline stretched before them, a vast ocean of glowing lights and towering ambition. The limousine hummed smoothly through the streets, its tinted windows shielding Ochieng and Celestine from the outside world. But inside, the tension was thick, unspoken words clawing at the silence.
Celestine stirred beside Ochieng, her lashes fluttering as she fought the haze of pain. He held her hand, his grip firm, anchoring her back to reality. Rolex watched them with quiet amusement, the soft clink of ice in his glass filling the void between them.
"You made the right choice, Ochieng," Rolex finally said, his voice silk over steel. "Power is a cruel mistress, but once she favors you, she will never let you go."
Ochieng's gaze remained locked on Celestine, his mind warring against itself. He had agreed to stand by Rolex's side, but at what cost? Was he stepping into a world that would devour him whole?
As if reading his mind, Rolex smirked. "Doubt is a disease, my friend. It infects the weak. But you… you were born to rule. Why fight it?"
Ochieng exhaled, his fingers tightening into fists. He had spent his life fighting—against poverty, against betrayal, against the weight of his own past. And now, he stood at the crossroads of something greater.
The car slowed to a halt in front of a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the city's pulse. Rolex gestured toward the entrance.
"Come," he said. "It's time you see what true power looks like."
Ochieng glanced at Celestine, her face still pale, but her breathing steadier. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead before stepping out of the limousine. Rolex led the way, his presence commanding, the very air shifting around him as they entered the building.
The elevator ride was silent, the tension thick. When the doors slid open, Ochieng stepped into a world he had never imagined—a private lounge, dripping in opulence, with men and women draped in wealth. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over velvet furnishings, and the scent of expensive cigars lingered in the air.
At the center of the room sat a man Ochieng didn't recognize—but his aura was unmistakable.
Power.
"Ah, the infamous Ochieng," the man said, his voice like gravel smoothed by honey. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I've heard much about you."
Ochieng didn't respond, his instincts warning him that this man—whoever he was—was dangerous.
Rolex chuckled. "Meet Walter. He's… an associate. A man who appreciates talent when he sees it."
Walter's sharp gaze pierced through Ochieng. "And I see talent in you. But talent alone means nothing if it's not sharpened."
Ochieng squared his shoulders. "I don't need sharpening. I know who I am."
Walter's lips curved into a smirk. "Do you? Or have you just been surviving for so long that you've forgotten what it means to truly live?"
Ochieng's jaw tightened. He had spent his life clawing his way up from nothing, and yet, in this room, surrounded by men who played with power like a child with a toy, he felt like an outsider.
Walter leaned forward. "Loyalty, Ochieng. That's what separates kings from pawns." His voice dropped, a sinister edge creeping into it. "Tell me… are you ready to play the game?"
A storm brewed inside Ochieng. He had made his choice. But was it truly his choice… or was he simply being pulled into a game he couldn't escape?
As the weight of his decision settled on his shoulders, he realized something chilling.
There was no turning back.