The envelope was sealed.
The room, once buzzing with confidence and arrogance, now held a suffocating stillness. Ochieng had done the unthinkable.
The moment his wager—The Red Syndicate—was placed inside that envelope, the power dynamics shifted. Ezekiel Cross, usually the one holding all the cards, had momentarily lost his smug expression.
Nadia, sitting beside Ochieng, slowly exhaled. "You really did it," she murmured, her tone unreadable.
Dmitri Ivanov, the Russian mogul, let out a low whistle. "Interesting. Either you're reckless or you're the most dangerous man in this room."
Ochieng didn't respond.
Because in his mind, the real game had already begun.
---
Ezekiel was the first to break the silence, his voice smooth but laced with an edge of curiosity.
"The Red Syndicate… That's quite the wager." He leaned back, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest of his chair. "Are you sure you understand what you just put on the table?"
Ochieng's dark eyes met his.
"I don't make bets I can't win."
That statement alone sent ripples through the room.
The Red Syndicate wasn't just a name. It was a shadow empire. An organization that operated outside the jurisdiction of any government, controlling underground markets, intelligence networks, and elite assassins.
If Ochieng was putting that on the line…
It meant he was either insane—or he had absolute confidence that he'd leave this game victorious.
Ezekiel let out a low chuckle. "Alright then. Let's raise the curtains and see how this game plays out."
Dmitri cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the center of the table. He gestured to the attendant, who placed the sealed envelope into a golden lockbox.
"This lockbox will remain in the vault until the winner is decided. The game starts now. First round?"
He slid a deck of obsidian-black cards onto the table.
---
Ochieng reached for his glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip as he assessed the deck.
Unlike traditional gambling, this wasn't just about chance—it was a test of control, manipulation, and the ability to read the opposition.
One by one, the players drew their first card.
Dmitri. Ezekiel. Nadia. Ochieng.
The game began.
Each move was a calculation, a strategy to outplay the other. But it wasn't just about the game itself—it was about studying the opponent.
And Ochieng?
He was playing two steps ahead.
---
Just as the game was heating up, Ochieng's phone vibrated once in his pocket.
Only a handful of people had the clearance to contact him during such moments.
He pulled out the phone, glanced at the screen—
Unknown Number.
His brows furrowed slightly, but he answered.
A distorted voice came through.
"You shouldn't have placed that wager, Ochieng."
A slow smirk spread across his lips.
"That depends," he replied, voice calm. "Are you here to warn me… or challenge me?"
There was a pause.
"You'll find out soon enough."
And then the line went dead.
Ochieng slid his phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable.
Nadia arched an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
Ochieng simply took another sip of whiskey and smirked.
"Nothing at all."
But deep inside, he knew—this wasn't just a game anymore.
It was war.
---