Black money

Chapter1

The night air over Riverbank Estate clung heavy with humidity, the kind that fogged windows and made the street lamps glow like blurred orbs in the dark. Nairobi traffic noise hummed in the distance, but here, the estate was unusually quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made Jayden Muriuki’s instincts twitch.

Jayden stood on the balcony of his third-floor apartment, staring at the faint glow of the city as he rolled a toothpick between his fingers. Rain clouds churned above, low and restless, warning of a storm. His phone lay on the balcony rail, screen black, reflecting only the faint outline of his face—calm on the outside, always calculating underneath.

He had lived in Riverbank long enough to know the silence meant trouble. Everyone here had secrets. Married men who sneaked out at 2 a.m., businesswomen laundering money through tiny boutiques, university students renting Airbnbs for deals that weren’t exactly legal. But its peace kept the police away, and that was good enough for Jayden.

A gust of warm wind swept in, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust. Jayden should’ve felt relaxed. But he didn’t.

Something felt off tonight. Wrong.

He looked at his watch.

11:48 p.m.

He took a slow breath and reached for his phone—only for it to vibrate violently, buzzing against the metal rail.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

Jayden’s heartbeat thudded once, loud, steady.

No one used that line unless it was serious.

He answered without a word.

A low, distorted voice spoke:

“The package is missing. Find it. Fix it. Or you’re disposable.”

The call ended.

No greeting.

No name.

No explanation.

Just a sentence sharp enough to slice bone.

Jayden stared at the phone, jaw tightening. He replayed the voice in his mind—cold, emotionless, synthetic, as if passed through multiple layers of encryption. It didn’t matter. He knew who it belonged to.

The Organization.

The shadow empire beneath Kenya’s polished business world.

Politicians funded them.

Cartels feared them.

And Jayden worked for them.

But “package missing” changed everything.

The package wasn’t cash.

Wasn’t drugs.

Wasn’t a shipment.

It was a set of encrypted files—digital blackmail material meticulously collected over the years:

• phone call recordings of MPs arranging hits

• offshore banking logs

• illegal land-grab documents

• cartel payment routes

• proof of government officials trafficking weapons

• even photographs of men who shouldn’t be seen together

It was the Organization’s most valuable insurance policy.

Without those files, the empire would crumble.

Without those files… Jayden would be blamed.

His pulse ticked faster, but his face remained calm. Panic got men killed. Silence kept them alive.

He put the phone down and leaned forward, elbows resting on the rail, thinking.

Who would dare steal the package?

Who even knew where it was stored?

Only three people—including him.

And the consequences…

He slowly clenched the toothpick between his teeth.

If he didn’t recover the files, he knew exactly what “disposable” meant.

They would cut him out like a rotten piece of meat.

And unlike other organizations, these ones didn’t kill you directly.

They erased you.

Your bank accounts frozen.

Your SIM cards dead.

Your ID flagged.

Your location exposed to every enemy you ever made.

And if that didn’t finish you—

they sent a cleaner.

Jayden rubbed his knuckles, feeling the faint scar on his right hand. A reminder of what happened to the last man who failed.

He turned to go inside—

—when a flicker of movement down the street caught his eye.

A silhouette.

Fast.

Sharp.

Watching.

Jayden’s muscles tightened. He ducked slightly behind the railing, eyes narrowing.

The figure was standing beneath the lone streetlight—the only bright spot in the entire estate. From this distance, Jayden couldn’t see the face, just the posture: straight, masculine, intentional.

Too intentional.

Jayden’s stomach hardened. He slid back inside without drawing attention and killed the lights in the apartment. Darkness swallowed the room instantly.

He moved silently to the window and peered through the blinds.

The figure was still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Jayden’s instincts sharpened into a blade.

He reached under the coffee table and removed a small black box. Opened it. Inside, nestled in dark foam, was a sleek matte-black pistol—unregistered, impossible to trace.

He loaded it with smooth precision and tucked it under his hoodie.

Then his phone vibrated again.

A message this time.

UNKNOWN SENDER:

You’re already being hunted. Move.

Jayden’s mind raced.

Hunted.

Already.

He typed back one word:

Who?

The reply came instantly:

Everyone.

Jayden exhaled slowly, adrenaline spiking through his veins.

The Organization didn’t threaten twice.

They acted.

He grabbed his keys, his backup phone, his blade, and slipped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

As he descended the stairs, he didn’t rush. Didn’t make noise. Didn’t expose himself to the main courtyard.

He moved like a shadow.

His hand brushed against the cold pistol grip at his waist as he reached the bottom floor.

He paused.

Listened.

Silence.

Then—footsteps behind him.

Steady.

Slow.

Purposeful.

Jayden turned sharply—

Two men stepped out of the darkness.

Both wearing hoodies.

Both holding weapons.

Both aiming right at him.

Jayden’s blood iced over.

This wasn’t a warning.

This was execution.

---

THE FIGHT

The first gunshot cracked the night.

Jayden dropped low, rolling behind a concrete pillar as the bullet ripped through the spot his head had been moments earlier.

He hissed under his breath.

They were close-range shooters—professionals.

He reached behind him and drew his pistol.

Two more shots fired, chips of stone exploding off the pillar.

He waited.

Listened.

Counted their footsteps.

One was circling left.

One was approaching straight ahead.

They were trying to box him in.

Jayden inhaled deeply.

Three—

Two—

One—

He exploded out from behind the pillar, gun raised. The first shooter blinked in shock as Jayden sprinted toward him—not away.

Jayden grabbed the man’s wrist mid-shot, twisted violently. Bone snapped. The gun dropped.

Jayden slammed his elbow into the man's jaw, sending him staggering. He grabbed the falling weapon and fired behind him without looking—

The second man dove sideways, the bullet grazing his shoulder. He returned fire.

Jayden ducked, rolled, came up behind the wounded shooter, and pressed his gun against the man’s thigh.

One shot.

The man screamed, collapsing.

Jayden kicked away both weapons, checking the first attacker—unconscious, but alive.

He stared down at the second man, who was groaning in pain, blood pooling beneath his leg.

Jayden crouched, grabbed the man’s hoodie, and yanked him forward.

“Who sent you?”

The man spat blood.

“Y-you’re already dead. You just don’t know it.”

Jayden’s jaw tightened.

He slammed the man’s head against the pavement.

The body went limp.

He stood slowly, chest rising and falling.

These were no random thugs.

They had military precision.

Organization training.

Which meant someone from inside had already decided Jayden was guilty.

Someone had betrayed him.

And they wanted him dead before he found out the truth.

Jayden wiped sweat from his brow, breathing hard.

Then he heard a door creak open behind him.

He spun instantly, gun raised—

—and found himself staring into the wide, terrified eyes of a woman he’d never seen before.

Her umbrella lay on the ground. Rain had begun, soaking her dress, her hair sticking to her cheeks.

She looked from the unconscious men…

…to the gun in Jayden’s hand…

…to Jayden himself.

She trembled.

“I—I won’t scream,” she whispered.

“Just… please don’t kill me.”

Jayden lowered his gun slightly.

Her voice.

Her fear.

Something about her shook him.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

“Zuri.”

The rain intensified, thundering against the pavement.

Jayden took a step closer.

“You shouldn’t be out here tonight.”

Zuri swallowed hard, eyes darting at the bodies.

“I can see that.”

She took a shaky breath.

“Who… are you?”

Jayden didn’t answer.

Instead, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Her breath caught.

He leaned in, voice low and steady:

“You didn’t see anything. You were never here. Understand?”

Zuri nodded slowly.

Jayden stepped past her, disappearing into the dark rain without another word.

But as he walked away, his heart beat faster than it had in years.

Because Zuri’s face wasn’t full of terror.

It was full of curiosity.

And no curiosity was more dangerous than one from someone who had seen him kill.Rain continued to fall in heavy sheets, drumming on rooftops and turning the estate’s pathways into slick ribbons of water. Jayden moved quickly through the shadows, his mind racing even though his breathing remained steady.

He had survived the ambush.

But survival meant nothing tonight.

That attack confirmed their verdict.

He was a target now.

Marked.

Hunted.

Jayden reached the far side of the estate, slipping through a hole in the fence he had cut months ago—one of several escape routes he had prepared long before trouble ever arrived.

He always planned ahead.

Always.

Because he had learned the hardest way possible that the world never warned you before it tried to kill you.

---

THE SAFEHOUSE

Jayden crossed the road, moving into a narrow alley between two shuttered barber shops. The alley smelled of damp concrete, old oil, and forgotten secrets. Perfect.

At the end was a rusty metal door that looked abandoned. He tapped three times, paused, then tapped twice more—a rhythm only he knew.

A faint mechanical click echoed from the other side.

He pushed the door open.

Inside was a dimly lit room—plain, cold, unmarked. A mattress on the floor, two plastic chairs, and a small desk. Nothing that suggested occupation. Nothing that could incriminate him. Even the walls were bare concrete.

He locked the door behind him and moved straight to the desk. He pressed his thumb against a hidden scanner beneath the drawer. A soft beep broke the silence as the drawer unlocked.

Inside were:

• a backup phone

• two passports

• stacks of clean cash

• a thin black hard drive

• a disassembled rifle wrapped in cloth

• and a USB stick with an encrypted key

All the tools he needed to survive.

He pulled the hard drive out and connected it to the burner laptop sitting on the desk. Lines of code flashed across the screen—his system checking for breaches.

Nothing compromised.

He exhaled.

Finally, a breath that didn’t taste like blood and danger.

Then his thoughts drifted—reluctantly but inevitably—to Zuri.

Her eyes.

The rain on her face.

The way she looked at him: afraid, yet drawn to him.

Curious in a way that made him uneasy.

He ran a hand through his hair.

She wasn’t supposed to see him tonight.

No one was.

And now she had.

Jayden opened the drawer again and took out a photo he kept hidden beneath the documents. It was worn at the edges. Cracked. But he kept it anyway.

A picture of his brother.

The last person he had ever trusted.

Before the Organization tore his old life apart.

Jayden clenched the photo until the paper bent in his fist.

He had no room for mistakes.

And tonight… meeting Zuri was a mistake he didn’t understand yet.

---

THE ORGANIZATION’S SILENCE

His phone buzzed again—another message.

UNKNOWN:

We see everything. Move carefully.

Jayden’s jaw tightened.

So they were watching him.

Already tracking him.

Already expecting him to run.

But he wasn’t running.

Not yet.

He typed back:

Who authorized the hit?

Three dots appeared.

Typing.

Then:

You’ll know soon.

Jayden cursed under his breath.

He needed to act before the Organization tightened the noose.

Before they sent the cleaners.

Once the cleaners arrived, death was guaranteed. They didn’t make threats. They made corpses.

He opened the laptop again and pulled up a secure map—his personal tracking system. A red dot blinked at the edge of the estate.

A tracker.

Someone had tagged him.

He scanned his body, his clothes, his shoes—

Nothing.

He took off the jacket he had been wearing earlier… and froze.

It was missing.

Zuri had it.

Jayden’s breath caught.

His jacket had a hidden tracking chip sewn deep inside the lining.

He used it for emergency extractions.

And now a stranger—

a girl who barely knew him—

was walking around the estate with a live Organization tracker in her hands.

His stomach tightened.

If the cleaners found her—

they wouldn’t hesitate.

They wouldn’t ask questions.

They wouldn’t even observe her face.

Just kill.

Jayden grabbed his phone and keys.

He needed to get to her before they did.

---

BACK INTO THE RAIN

The storm was brutal now, turning the world into a blur of water and shadows. Jayden moved fast, slipping between buildings, hopping fences, avoiding the bright main estate pathways.

Lighting flashed overhead, illuminating the entire sky for a split second—long enough to reveal what he feared most:

Two dark SUVs entering the estate.

No headlights.

No plates.

Cleaners.

Jayden’s pulse hammered.

He sprinted.

He reached the path where he last saw Zuri, scanning desperately. The streetlight flickered above, and the two bodies he had left earlier were gone.

Cleaners always removed evidence.

Always.

But Zuri—where was she?

He darted around the corner, boots splashing in puddles. He scanned the area—

Nothing.

Then he heard footsteps.

Not heavy, not hostile.

Light.

Quick.

He turned sharply.

Zuri.

Running.

Still wearing his jacket.

Soaked, shivering, breathless.

She nearly slipped, but Jayden grabbed her arm, steadying her.

Her eyes widened.

“You—you’re still here,” she breathed.

“You shouldn’t be,” he replied, voice low and sharp. “Give me the jacket.”

She frowned. “Why? What’s happening? Who were those men—”

“Zuri,” he said quietly, “if you want to live, give me the jacket. Right now.”

She didn’t fully understand, but something in his voice made her obey instantly. He yanked it off her shoulders and found the tracker sewn under the inner seam.

He crushed it beneath his boot.

Seconds later—

A sleek black SUV screeched around the corner, tires splashing through rainwater.

Jayden grabbed Zuri’s waist.

“Run!”

She didn’t ask questions. They sprinted, slipping through a narrow alley just as the SUV doors swung open.

Gunshots exploded behind them.

Zuri screamed.

Jayden shoved her behind a stone wall, shielding her with his body as bullets chewed into the bricks.

He leaned in, breath hot against her ear.

“Stay behind me.”

Her shaking hand gripped his sleeve.

“Jayden… who are you?”

He didn’t answer.

He just grabbed her hand.

“Move.”

---

THE CHASE

The alley was tight, barely wide enough for one person, but Jayden forced both of them through. Water streamed from a broken gutter overhead, soaking them. Zuri stumbled—unused to running from death in the rain—but Jayden pulled her along.

Behind them, men shouted orders.

They were closing in.

Jayden burst out of the alley and scanned wildly. To the left—a closed kiosk. To the right—a row of abandoned flats. Ahead—a drainage tunnel leading under the estate.

He dragged Zuri toward it.

“Where are we going?” she gasped.

“Somewhere they won’t follow easily.”

“You didn’t answer my question!”

Jayden didn’t look back.

“Later.”

They dove into the tunnel just as flashlights lit up the alley they had escaped through.

Zuri’s breath trembled.

Jayden pressed a finger to his lips.

Silence.

Footsteps echoed above them.

Searching.

Spreading out.

Jayden held Zuri close, his arm wrapped around her, her face pressed against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat—steady, controlled, even now. She couldn’t tell whether that scared her or made her trust him more.

Minutes passed.

Finally the footsteps faded.

Jayden released her slowly.

She looked up at him in the darkness, her voice small.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The question hit him harder than any bullet.

He cupped her cheek gently—not rough, not threatening—just enough to steady her.

“No,” he said softly. “But they might. Which means from this moment… you stay with me.”

Zuri swallowed hard.

“And if I don’t want to?”

Jayden’s eyes darkened, thunder rumbling in his voice.

“Then you die.”

---

A STRANGE BEGINNING

They crawled out of the other end of the drainage tunnel, emerging behind a long-abandoned construction site. Zuri’s legs shook as she stood, cold and drenched.

Jayden removed his hoodie and draped it over her shoulders. The rain had soaked him completely now, but he didn’t flinch.

Zuri hesitated before speaking.

“You saved me.”

Jayden didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the dark road ahead, scanning, assessing threats she couldn’t see.

Finally, he turned to her.

“No,” he corrected softly.

“I endangered you.”

Zuri blinked.

“I don’t even know your last name,” she whispered.

“You’re safer not knowing.”

She stepped closer, surprising herself.

“Jayden… if I’m already in danger, then tell me the truth.”

His jaw clenched.

For a long moment, he considered lying.

Hiding everything.

Leaving her completely in the dark.

But then he met her eyes—the sincerity, the fear, the stubbornness—and something inside him shifted.

He exhaled slowly.

“My name is Jayden Muriuki,” he said quietly.

“And the men who attacked us tonight… are part of something much bigger.”

Zuri wrapped her arms around herself.

“Bigger than what? A gang? The police? Some… criminal group?”

Jayden stared into the night, voice low.

“Bigger than all of them.”

She swallowed.

“Why are they after you?”

His answer chilled her to the bone.

“Because they think I betrayed them.”

“Did you?” she asked.

Jayden looked at her, unreadable.

“Not yet.”

---

A STRANGE BEGINNING

They crawled out of the other end of the drainage tunnel, emerging behind a long-abandoned construction site. Zuri’s legs shook as she stood, cold and drenched.

Jayden removed his hoodie and draped it over her shoulders. The rain had soaked him completely now, but he didn’t flinch.

Zuri hesitated before speaking.

“You saved me.”

Jayden didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the dark road ahead, scanning, assessing threats she couldn’t see.

Finally, he turned to her.

“No,” he corrected softly.

“I endangered you.”

Zuri blinked.

“I don’t even know your last name,” she whispered.

“You’re safer not knowing.”

She stepped closer, surprising herself.

“Jayden… if I’m already in danger, then tell me the truth.”

His jaw clenched.

For a long moment, he considered lying.

Hiding everything.

Leaving her completely in the dark.

But then he met her eyes—the sincerity, the fear, the stubbornness—and something inside him shifted.

He exhaled slowly.

“My name is Jayden Muriuki,” he said quietly.

“And the men who attacked us tonight… are part of something much bigger.”

Zuri wrapped her arms around herself.

“Bigger than what? A gang? The police? Some… criminal group?”

Jayden stared into the night, voice low.

“Bigger than all of them.”

She swallowed.

“Why are they after you?”

His answer chilled her to the bone.

“Because they think I betrayed them.”

“Did you?

” she asked.

Jayden looked at her, unreadable.

“Not yet.”Dante stepped out of the apartment building, locking the door behind him as the evening heat settled like a heavy blanket over Nairobi. For most people, nightfall meant rest. For him, it meant work—the real kind. The kind that thrived in shadows.

He crossed the parking yard, slid into his matte-black BMW, and let the engine hum to life. No music. No distractions. His mind was already moving in cold, mechanical patterns.

Tonight wasn’t routine.

Tonight, he had to fix a problem that threatened his entire operation.

He drove through Kilimani, weaving into the busy network of night traffic. Bars buzzed, boda bodas zig-zagged, street vendors shouted over each other—but Dante barely heard any of it. His mind replayed the earlier call.

Zain’s voice. Urgent.

> “Boss, we need to meet. Someone’s leaking information.”

Information leaks meant one thing:

Death was coming.

Dante headed toward the one place he trusted—the underground vault beneath a closed hardware store in South B. It was a safe room disguised as abandoned storage, reinforced with thick steel and monitored by an offline CCTV system Dante designed himself.

When he arrived, Zain was already there, leaning against a dusty shelf with a cigarette dying between his fingers.

“Finally,” Zain muttered. “You took your sweet time.”

Dante didn’t smile. “Talk.”

Zain stepped forward, lowering his voice even though they were alone. “Someone accessed Vault 3’s records. They didn’t break in—they circumvented the encryption.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. “Impossible.”

“It happened,” Zain said. “And it gets worse. The access point came from… outside the network.”

Dante felt the first ripple of something dangerous—something he rarely felt—concern.

“Who?”

Zain exhaled. “We don’t know. But whoever it is… they’re good. Very good.”

For a moment the room felt colder.

Dante walked to the steel table at the center of the vault and touched the surface lightly, thinking. “If they breached Vault 3, they’ll come for Vault 1 next.”

“That’s what scares me,” Zain whispered.

Vault 3 held sensitive data from minor clients—small-scale laundering jobs for businessmen and low-ranking politicians.

But Vault 1…

Vault 1 was where the real secrets were kept.

The names of cartel leaders. Bank routes. Offshore accounts.

People who would burn cities to protect their identities.

If someone accessed that information…

“Who else knows?” Dante asked.

“Just me.” Zain paused. “And now you.”

Good. The circle stayed small.

“Any leads?”

“One,” Zain said. “A blogger. She’s been posting things that match our operations’ timeline. Little hints. Maybe coincidences.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “Name?”

Zain hesitated. “Nyash.”

The name hit harder than Dante expected.

Nyash—the woman he met just hours ago.

The woman who looked at him with a spark of curiosity he couldn’t shake.

The woman who made him feel something he hadn’t felt in years.

It couldn’t be her.

It shouldn’t be her.

But Dante had learned long ago—coincidences didn’t exist in his world.

Zain watched him carefully. “You know her?”

“We’ve… met.”

Zain groaned. “Boss. Please don’t tell me you—”

“No,” Dante cut him off. “It was nothing. A chance meeting.”

“Chance?” Zain scoffed. “There is no chance in your life. You know that.”

Dante didn’t answer.

Because deep down, he knew Zain was right.

There were no coincidences.

And if Nyash was involved—even unintentionally—she was in danger.

Worse… she might be a threat.

Dante turned away, masking the shift in his expression. “Monitor her. Quietly. And find out who accessed Vault 3.”

Zain nodded. “And if she’s involved?”

Dante hesitated for a fraction of a second—so quick no normal eye would catch it.

But Zain wasn’t normal.

“Boss?” Zain pressed.

Dante exhaled slowly, pushing down something uncomfortable in his chest.

“If she’s a threat… I’ll handle it.”

Zain understood what that meant.

In Dante’s world, handling it meant only one thing.

---

Later That Night

Nyash sat in her small studio apartment in Ngara, laptop open, headphones on, staring at a screen full of encrypted documents and dusty government leaks. She rubbed her eyes and sipped her cold coffee, scrolling through an old report she had pulled from a whistleblower three months ago.

She froze.

A familiar symbol popped up in the corner of a scanned bank ledger:

A black circle with a single horizontal s***h.

A symbol she had seen before… but only twice.

Once in a leaked document involving a missing accountant—her brother.

And once on the wall of the bar where she had met Dante.

Her stomach tightened.

“This can’t be random,” she whispered.

She clicked open a folder labeled Muroki.

Her brother’s final message.

His final lead.

The same name Dante had introduced himself with earlier, smiling like he had nothing to hide.

Nyash’s heart thumped harder. “Who are you really, Dante?”

The cursor blinked at her, almost like it was urging her to find the truth.

Outside, on the rooftop across from her window, a shadow crouched silently, watching her through a small thermal scope.

A sniper rifle rested beside him.

Silencer attached.

Safety off.

Ghost Dog.

Selene Kassandra’s personal assassin.

He watched Nyash tap her keyboard, oblivious to the fact that her life was hanging by a thread.

He activated his mic. “Target located.”

A calm voice replied in his earpiece.

Selene: “Do not kill her yet. I want to know how she’s connected to Dante Muroki.”

Ghost Dog smirked beneath the mask.

“And after?”

Selene’s voice came cold and sharp:

“After, you eliminate her.”

---

Dante didn’t know it yet…

But two people he cared about—one knowingly, one unwillingly—were moving straight into danger designed to tear his world apart.

And someone was hunting them both.

The moment Dante stepped back into the night air, something felt wrong.

Not danger—something else. A pull. A tension he couldn’t shake.

Nyash’s name kept replaying in his head like a glitch he couldn’t debug.

He didn’t like unknown variables. And she had just gone from a charming coincidence… to a problem he couldn’t quantify.

He unlocked his BMW and slid inside. The leather still held the warmth of the day. He didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he rested his fingers on the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

Who was she really?

A blogger with a knack for digging too deep?

A decoy?

A pawn sent by an enemy?

Or… something more complicated?

He hated that part of him cared enough to ask.

His phone vibrated. A message from Zain.

> Zain: She just posted again. Another breadcrumb.

Dante’s eyes snapped open.

He started the car and drove… not to Nyash’s area, but to a safer vantage point—one where he could think without emotions clouding his vision.

As he sped through Mombasa Road traffic, a strange feeling crept into him.

A feeling he hadn’t felt in years.

Someone else was moving pieces against him. And they were fast.

---

Ngara – Nyash’s Apartment

Nyash flinched when her lights flickered.

Only for a second—but long enough for her instincts to wake up.

She wasn’t paranoid.

She was careful.

And tonight, something in her chest whispered that she wasn’t alone.

She closed her laptop and moved to the window, pushing the curtain aside just a little.

Nairobi shimmered outside—matatus roaring by, music thumping from a nearby hostel, the city alive.

Nothing unusual.

But something still felt… off.

She grabbed her phone and opened the last message from her brother.

It wasn’t long—just coordinates and a single line:

> “If anything happens to me… find Muroki.”

She always assumed “Muroki” was a place.

A code.

A company.

She never expected it to be a man.

A man with unreadable eyes.

A man who walked like he lived in the shadows.

A man she felt drawn to, even though her instincts screamed caution.

She whispered to the empty room, “Dante… what are you hiding?”

She didn’t know she was being watched.

Not from the corridor.

Not from her window.

But from the rooftop opposite her building—where a shadow adjusted his thermal scope and zoomed in on the heat signature of her body.

Ghost Dog smirked.

His voice remained low as he spoke into his mic.

“Target is restless. Looks like she sensed something.”

Selene’s reply was calm… too calm.

“Good. Fear sharpens the truth. Keep watching.”

---

Karen – Selene Kassandra’s Safehouse

Candles flickered across the wide mahogany table.

Selene Kassandra leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on a digital map projected across the surface.

The red dot blinking in Ngara marked Nyash.

The blue one in South B marked Dante.

A slow smile curved her lips.

“Finally,” she murmured. “He’s vulnerable.”

Her lieutenant approached. “Do we engage?”

“Not yet,” Selene said, swirling a glass of wine. “Dante Muroki is smarter than all of them. You attack too early, he slips away. Again.”

She placed the glass down and tapped the map.

“Let them run into each other. Let emotions cloud his judgment.”

Her gaze darkened.

“And then… we break him.”

---

Back in the BMW

Dante took a sharp turn into a dimly lit service road near Industrial Area. He stopped the car, engine running, letting the silence settle.

He pulled out his secure phone—a bulky device with custom encryption—and opened VaultNet Access logs.

He scrolled….Paused…

Scrolled again.

Then he saw it.

A signature embedded......