Tamandan's breath was steady, but inside, a storm raged. His father's words cut deep—not because they were unexpected, but because they held the weight of a truth he had avoided for too long.
"I have followed your orders without question," Tamandan said, his voice thick with restrained emotion. "I have killed, I have bled, I have built your empire brick by brick with my own hands. But I will not let it cost me my family."
His father's eyes, cold and unreadable, bore into his soul. "And you think you can just walk away?" His voice carried a slow, ominous weight. "You think the blood on your hands will magically disappear? You believe they won't come for you, for your wife, for your daughter?"
Tamandan clenched his fists, fighting the impulse to lash out. "I won't let them."
His father let out a humorless chuckle. "You may have mastered the art of eliminating threats, but protection? Protection is a fantasy. A man in your position doesn't get to retire. You don't get to close the book on a life like yours. It ends when it's ripped from your hands."
Tamandan stepped closer, his jaw tightening. "Then I'll write my own ending."
His father leaned back, his fingers drumming against the desk. "You don't understand, do you? The moment you walk out of here, you become the hunted."
Tamandan held his gaze, unflinching. "Let them come."
The room was silent, save for the ticking of an unseen clock. Then his father sighed, leaning forward, his voice softer but no less menacing.
"You were my greatest weapon. But even weapons dull with time," he murmured. "If you insist on this foolish path, then know this: I will not save you. When they come for you—and they will—I will watch."
Tamandan's heart pounded, but he refused to waver. "I never asked to be saved."
His father exhaled, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. "Then go. Face whatever consequences await you."
Tamandan turned, his pulse steady as he walked toward the door. The moment his fingers touched the handle, his father's voice rang out once more.
"You may have abandoned this life, Tamandan," he warned. "But I promise you—it has not abandoned you."
Tamandan paused for only a second. Then, without another word, he stepped into the night, leaving behind a world that would never truly let him go.
A chilling escalation—the weight of betrayal settling like a cold blade against Tamandan's fate.
Yoroba Bongo sat in the dimly lit office, his expression carved from stone as the figure in the shadows shifted.
"Make the call," Yoroba ordered, his tone devoid of hesitation. "We have nothing to do with him anymore."
The figure hesitated. "Are you certain, Yoroba? When I make this call, your son is as good as dead."
Yoroba's gaze never wavered. "He died the moment he failed the mission."
The words cut through the silence like steel, final and unforgiving. The figure lingered for only a heartbeat longer before pulling out a phone, fingers hovering over the dial.
A decision was made. A fate sealed.
Tamandan Bongo felt the walls of the elevator tighten around him, the low hum of its descent masking the storm raging in his mind. Sixteen floors—sixteen silent moments to process the irreversible fate he had just sealed.
The moment the doors slid open, he would no longer be Joromo Akinremi, the devoted father. He would be Tamandan Bongo, the hunted man.
His heart pounded, the burden pressing harder against his chest. Every instinct screamed at him—run, disappear, become a ghost. Yet, as the metallic chime announced the elevator's arrival on the ground floor, Tamandan steadied himself.
He stepped forward, into the open world beyond the doors.
The hunt had begun.
The weight of his words lingered in the air. Misty inhaled sharply on the other end of the line, understanding the gravity of the moment.
"I'll move them immediately," she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing beneath it. "But you know what this means. There's no turning back."
Tamandan's grip tightened around his phone. "I never expected to."
A pause. Then Misty spoke again, softer this time. "Joromo, she'll ask about you. Your little princess will want to know when you're coming back."
Tamandan exhaled, his breath shallow. "Tell her… tell her I'm building that rocket."
Misty's silence carried unspoken emotion. Then, finally, a whisper. "Stay alive."
The call ended, but the war had just begun.
Aboard the luxurious mega yacht slicing through calm waters en route to the USA, Judy Chungu sat alone, a glass of wine in hand, savoring the solitude. The stormy weather that had once mirrored her inner turmoil had given way to a serene horizon, but her heart remained a tempest.
Love had soured for Judy ever since Contratino, her stepbrother, had rejected her heartfelt proposal. His refusal, rooted in their familial bond, had left a scar too deep to heal. Her emotions, once tender, had curdled into something darker—a simmering hatred that she could neither suppress nor fully understand. Was it the sting of rejection, or the taboo of her feelings, that fueled her loathing? Perhaps both.
As she gazed out at the endless ocean, a chilling thought took root. Contratino had to pay—not just for rejecting her, but for existing as a constant reminder of her vulnerability. Money was power, and she had plenty of it. But for Judy, wealth was merely a tool, a means to an end. Her true goal was far more personal: to erase Contratino from her life, permanently.
Her cell phone beeped interrupting her lonely solitude. "Yes, Judy Chungu speaking?"
Judy's grip tightened around her phone, the chill of disappointment settling deep in her chest.
"Contratino has slipped out of our hands into South Africa," the voice admitted, hesitant. "He's in a highly protected prison. I am sorry, ma'am, for failing you. You may punish me in whichever way you see fit."
Silence. The waves outside crashed against the hull of the yacht, but Judy heard none of it. The moment she'd been waiting for—the final act—had crumbled before her.
She took a slow breath, forcing back the frustration, the simmering rage. "You disappoint me," she said, her tone clipped, emotionless. "Failure is a debt that must be repaid."
The man on the other end swallowed audibly, his fear palpable. "Tell me what to do," he begged.