The sun rose over Nairobi, casting long golden rays over the silent streets. The night had been drenched in blood, and now the city stood eerily still, as if holding its breath.
Jafari was dead. His empire, shattered. His name, erased.
But Ochieng knew better than anyone—a fallen king left behind desperate vultures.
He sat in the same rundown warehouse, his fingers tapping idly against the wooden table. Veronica was across from him, a cigarette burning between her lips, her face unreadable.
Elaine stood near the window, watching the world outside. "You did it," she murmured. "You actually did it."
Ochieng didn't answer.
The room was heavy with silence.
Then—BANG!
A bullet tore through the window, shattering glass into a million tiny daggers.
Ochieng reacted instantly, flipping the table for cover. Veronica rolled to the side, pulling her gun. Elaine hit the floor, cursing.
The air filled with the sound of gunfire.
Ochieng's mind raced. This wasn't just revenge. This was a message.
Someone wanted to claim the throne Jafari left behind.
And they were starting with him.
---
Fifteen minutes later, the warehouse was a wreck. Bullet holes in the walls, shattered furniture, smoke hanging in the air.
Ochieng crouched behind cover, his breath steady.
"They're organized," Veronica said, reloading. "Whoever sent them knew what they were doing."
Ochieng peeked through a gap. Five men in tactical gear. Professional. Trained. Not just street thugs.
A soft beeping caught his attention.
His eyes widened.
"DOWN!" he roared.
An explosion tore through the wall, shaking the ground. The force sent Ochieng flying back, pain bursting through his ribs as he hit the floor.
Darkness threatened to swallow him, but he forced his body to move.
Footsteps.
Gun clicks.
Then—a voice.
Cold. Amused. Female.
"Well, well," she drawled. "The great Ochieng, finally caught off guard."
His vision cleared just in time to see her step through the smoke.
Tall. Elegant. Deadly.
Dressed in a dark suit, eyes sharp like a predator.
He knew that face.
Natasha Roman.
Jafari's ex-right hand.
And the real power behind his empire.
---
Natasha's lips curved into a smirk. She knelt beside him, her knife trailing lightly over his chest.
"You thought killing Jafari would end this?" she whispered. "Foolish."
Ochieng held her gaze, despite the sharp pain in his ribs. "You're too late. His empire is gone."
Natasha chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart. I don't want his empire."
Her eyes glinted.
"I want you."
Silence.
Veronica tensed, gripping her gun. Elaine's eyes flickered with confusion.
Natasha leaned closer. "Join me, Ochieng. We could own this city together. No more petty wars. No more shadows. Just power."
Ochieng's lips twitched.
He laughed.
A low, dark chuckle.
Then, faster than a breath, he moved—grabbing her wrist, twisting it, flipping her onto the ground.
A gun pressed against her skull.
"You should've come with a better offer," he murmured.
Natasha's smile didn't waver.
"Then I guess we do this the hard way."
From the shadows—dozens of footsteps.
Armed men. Guns aimed.
Ochieng clenched his jaw. Trapped.
Natasha chuckled. "Welcome to the real game, darling."
The war for Nairobi wasn't over.
It had only just begun.
---