"You want to trap a devil?" Lynn whispered, scrolling through her phone. "You invite him to burn."
She sent the message to Mokoena's private line. One only his inner circle had.
Unknown Number: Let's talk. You know where to find me.
Michael stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
> "You want to meet him? Alone?"
> "He thinks I'm scared. I want him to feel untouchable. That's when men like him make mistakes."
> "Lynn…"
She turned to him, calm but deadly.
> "Trust me. I won't be alone."
---
Later that evening...
The old art gallery was abandoned, forgotten in the shadows of the city's glitz. Dust coated the marble floors, and every sound echoed like a scream waiting to happen.
That's where Lynn sat — alone, in a black coat, legs crossed, phone on silent.
At exactly 7:00 PM, Mokoena arrived.
No guards. Just him and that chilling smirk.
> "You've grown bold," he said, stepping inside. "Did you think I wouldn't see through your little games?"
> "I'm not hiding anymore. I brought you here so we can talk. Face to face."
> "Talk?" he scoffed. "You humiliated one of my oldest allies, leaked confidential documents, and now you want peace?"
> "No," she said softly. "I want you to make a move. On record."
Mokoena raised a brow — suspicious, but still amused.
> "You're bluffing."
> "Am I?"
He stepped closer, studying her eyes.
> "You're reckless. Just like your father."
Her fingers twitched.
> "Mention my father again, and I swear, this gallery will be your grave."
He laughed.
That's when a soft beep echoed from behind a broken sculpture.
He froze.
Lynn rose to her feet.
> "Say hi to the press, Mokoena."
From the shadows, cameras flickered. Red dots glowed from drones in the corners. And upstairs, Vusi was live-streaming every word.
Mokoena's smirk faded.
> "You think this'll ruin me?"
> "No," Lynn said. "I know it will."
---
Back at her apartment...
Michael hugged her tightly.
> "That was insane."
> "It had to be done," she whispered. "Now we let the city talk."
---