The convoy slid through the veins of East London like a moving fortress, engines growling low. Inside, Ali sat stiffly, rain still dripping from his clothes. The leather seat felt foreign, the silence heavier than the storm outside.
Rizwan sat across from him, composed, his eyes fixed on the passing streets. He hadn't spoken since Ali entered.
Finally, Ali broke. "Why help me?"
Rizwan's gaze shifted, calm, unreadable. "Because you asked the right question. Most beg for money, power, or revenge. You asked for truth. That means you're either reckless… or ready."
Ali swallowed. "And if I'm reckless?"
Rizwan's lips twitched into something between a smile and a warning. "Then the city will devour you."
Before Ali could reply, the world exploded.
Gunfire cracked the night. Bullets screamed through the storm, shattering glass. The convoy lurched as tires screeched against wet pavement. Guards reacted instantly, drawing weapons, returning fire with machine-like precision.
Ali's body slammed against the seat. His ears rang, his chest clenched with panic. Outside, flashes of muzzle fire lit the rain like lightning.
"Stay down," Rizwan ordered, his voice sharp but steady.
The car door flung open. Rizwan stepped into the chaos without hesitation. Bullets sliced through the air, but he moved with lethal calm, returning fire with chilling precision. Each shot he took dropped a rival where they stood.
Ali pressed himself against the seat, heart hammering. He could barely breathe. Rizwan fought as though the storm belonged to him, his figure a silhouette of control and violence.
A bullet grazed Rizwan's shoulder. Blood stained his jacket, but he didn't falter. His voice cut through the storm: "Call the convoy."
Ali fumbled with the phone, hands trembling. Within seconds, Rizwan's guards poured from the surrounding cars, unleashing a hail of gunfire. Rivals fell one by one, their ambush collapsing into chaos.
Ali scrambled from the car, diving behind an overturned table. His lungs burned, every nerve screaming at him to run. But his eyes stayed locked on Rizwan—moving, commanding, surviving.
The rain mixed with blood on the streets. Neon lights reflected in crimson puddles.
For the first time, Ali saw it with terrifying clarity: Rizwan wasn't just a man surviving the shadows. He was the shadows.
And if Ali wanted to live, he would have to learn to become the same.
Cliffhanger: The ambush has failed—but who sent it, and how far will KH go to crush Rizwan and the boy who follows him?