Rise Of Michael Jordan

Chapter 8

Darkness pressed on me first. A heavy, suffocating weight that clawed through my skull until I could no longer tell if I was asleep or trapped between life and death. My head throbbed like someone had hammered nails into it, every muscle in my body screaming with pain. Slowly… painfully… I forced my eyes open.

The blur sharpened, and the first face I saw nearly made my chest seize.

Seraphina Voss.

Her eyes were steady, her crimson lips curved into that same unreadable smile I remembered. She leaned forward slightly, her voice smooth as silk but carrying the edge of authority.

“We meet again,” she said. “How are you doing, Kael?”

Her words cut through the haze in my mind, pulling me fully into reality. I tried to move, but that’s when I felt it—the harsh bite of rope against my wrists. My hands were tied behind the chair. A single light swung above me, drowning the room in shadows. My phone, my ID card, every accessory I carried—gone.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Where are we?” My voice came out rough, strained, but sharp enough to slice the silence.

Seraphina tilted her head, her expression almost apologetic. “The president will be here in a minute. I’m sorry, Kael, but we know the rage you still carry against the government. We couldn’t risk your presence without… precautions.”

Her words stung deeper than the ropes. Rage? She had no idea. Rage was too gentle a word for what boiled inside me.

The door clicked. A low echo spread through the room. Seraphina straightened, her heels tapping softly as she rose from her seat. The air thickened with tension as the door swung open, revealing him.

The President.

Two guards flanked him, but his eyes—the same sharp eyes that once commanded armies and nations—were locked only on me.

“Long time no see, my Captain,” he greeted, his voice heavy with memory.

I let out a bitter laugh, though the rope dug deeper into my skin. “Do our meetings usually have to be this grand?”

The President’s lips curved slightly, though not in amusement. “I’m aware of your meeting with De Milton Carroway,” he said, circling the table slowly, like a wolf studying its prey. “Tell me, Kael… what was it about?”

“Are you watching me?”

“I always watch,” he replied calmly. Then his voice dipped lower, edged with regret. “I know how you feel, Kael. But I won’t stand here and insult you with an apology that you’ll never accept.”

My chest heaved, anger searing through me. My voice cracked out like thunder. “Twelve men died.”

The words hung in the room, suffocating. I could still see their faces, their blood, their screams.

“They had wives,” I continued, my voice rougher now. “Children. Families waiting at home. And because of the government’s greed, they’re gone. Just like that.”

The President stopped pacing. For the first time, he met my eyes without the shield of power in his voice. “I am the President, Kael. And unless you sit in this chair, you can never truly understand the weight of the choices I make. Every day, I sign decisions I hate. Every day, I carry the ghosts of men just like yours. But the law isn’t always merciful. It cannot always bend my heart.”

I leaned forward as much as the rope allowed, my words venomous. “And those men? The ones who died? Were they not part of this country too?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

The President exhaled heavily. “Kael…” he said softly, almost like he was pleading. “I promise you—one day, when my term ends, I will confess to the world. I will bear the weight of every sin, every death. But until then, I beg you… do this one last assignment for me.”

His words carried desperation, but also a fire that I knew too well.

“This isn’t just about Malik Radwan anymore,” he continued, his voice hardening. “There is another psychopath out there. Someone far worse. Someone kills at will.”

A bitter laugh slipped from my throat, though pain laced every sound. “I already know,” I spat. “They came for me. I was attacked.”

That shook him. The President’s eyes widened, his composure faltering for the first time since he entered. “What?” His fists clenched. “You were attacked?”

“Yes,” I growled. “And if you’re truly as informed as you claim… then tell me.” My eyes burned into his, unyielding. “Do you have anyone in mind? Any name that could be behind this madness?”

The president leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze boring into me.

“The only one I have in mind,” he said slowly, his voice thick with weight, “is Raven.”

I blinked, the name hitting me like a whisper from a ghost.

“Raven?” My voice carried a bit of disbelief.

The president’s eyes darkened. “Yes. Raven. You might not know him personally… but once, he was like you. Fearless. A soldier cut from fire. I served beside him, years ago, before I stepped into this office. Back then, he was a storm no enemy could tame.”

He leaned forward, his tone lowering. “He left the military two years before you even joined, Kael. But his shadow still lingers. A shadow I fear more than any war.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, confusion and unease crawling through me. “Why tell me this now?”

The president didn’t answer right away. Instead, he opened a locked folder and pulled out a worn file, sliding it across the desk toward me. His eyes gleamed coldly.

“Do you remember the project—the Clean Seed?”

“Yes,” I muttered.

His voice grew sharp, almost metallic. “Decades ago, there was a record. Two children… born with the psychopath gene. A gene that strips away empathy, leaving only bloodlust. The first one… was Raven.”

“And the second?” I asked.

The president’s eyes turned grave. “The second is still out there. No name. No trace. A phantom we can’t pin down. But I know… they exist.”

With that, he reached for another file and spread it open. Photographs spilled across the polished wood of his desk.

I froze.

The men were mutilated beyond recognition, throats slit with surgical precision, eyes wide open in eternal terror. Blood-stained walls, torn flesh, lives snuffed out with a cruelty that screamed of someone who enjoyed it.

My chest tightened. This wasn’t just killing. This was art to the monster who had done it.

I looked up at him, jaw clenched. “And you want me to find this man?”

The president’s voice dropped, heavy as chains. “Yes. I want you to find him, Kael. Because only someone like you—someone who’s walked through fire—can face him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And if I succeed?”

For the first time, the president’s mask cracked, his expression hard yet strangely weary. “If you do it… if you bring him down… I’ll tell the whole damn world the truth. About what really happened that night with your comrades.”

“I’ll resign from this office myself,” he added firmly.