The leader emerged from the building and darted outside, his head darting from side to side as he scanned the area for any prying eyes. Satisfied that he had not been noticed, he slid into his car and started the engine, wincing as the jolt of pain shot through his shoulder. Blood was seeping from the wound, but he pushed past the discomfort, his focus locked on the road ahead. With one hand gripping the steering wheel, he accelerated away from the scene, his heart racing with a mix of fear and adrenaline.The leader was in desperate need of medical attention, but his lack of funds left him with few options. Weighing his choices, he decided to head towards his boss' house, unaware that he was being closely monitored.Outside, in the shadows, the General kept watch, tailing the leader's car with the precision of a seasoned professional. This was a calculated move by Marcus, determined to expose the mastermind behind the attack and unravel the conspiracy that had been set in motion.Th
Marcus' shock was palpable, his grip on the phone tightening as his mind reeled with the implications of this newfound information. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a low, urgent whisper.The General, unmoved by Marcus' disbelief, remained steadfast. "Yes, lord," he confirmed, his tone grim and unwavering. "I'm standing at the front of his house right now," he added, his words a testament to the gravity of the situation.Marcus, his jaw clenched in anger, gave his orders with a singular focus. “Leave now!” He said through gritted teeth.“Yes lord,” The general replied.Marcus hung up the phone, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might shatter. "Johnson, you just messed with the wrong person, ask Don," he muttered under his breath, the veins on his neck standing out as his anger coursed through him like a wildfire. With a deep breath, he turned to face the receptionist and the doctors, who were waiting nearby.As if a mask had been donned, Marcus's face transformed, hi
Kathrine, her tired eyes now burning with determination, focused on the computer with renewed intensity. She knew that her boss, Marcus, would not settle for anything less than perfection, and she was not about to disappoint. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, the click-clack of the keys punctuating the silence as she searched for any information that could shed light on the elusive Johnson. The cursor blinked on the screen, a silent reminder of the importance of her task.Amayah, shrouded in the steam of the bathroom, remained still, her ears pricked for any sign of movement. She had heard the unmistakable voice of Marcus, but then she believed bunke he was meant to be dead due to several gunshots she heard.Amayah crept out from her sanctuary, her steps barely audible as she made her way through the hall, her breath held in anticipation. As she reached the living area, she exhaled a long, slow sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly at the realization that Marcus was nowhere to
Amayah, despite her reservations, managed to whisper "I love you" to Owen as he held her in his arms. Owen, sensing the tension in her body language, released her from the hug without a word. He began to realize that his relationship with Amayah was more complicated than he had initially thought, and he started to regret dating her. On the contrary, Johnson, his eyes gleaming with malice, leaned over his injured subordinate with a sadistic grin. "So tell me, what should I do to you?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. The injured man, writhing in pain, stuttered, "I...I want forgiveness."Johnson's smile widened into a twisted leer, and he pressed his weight harder on the man's wounds, causing him to yelp in agony. "Forgiveness, you say? How interesting. I think we can arrange something, don't you?" he taunted.Johnson was enjoying the cries of pain from the man beneath him, as it demonstrated his superiority and ability to enforce his authority. The man was powerle
Marcus, determined to follow through on his plan, dialed a number. After two rings, the call was answered. "I have information for you," Marcus declared. The man on the other end of the line remained silent, before eventually replying in a hushed voice. "Who is this?""My identity is not important. I have information you will find valuable," Marcus replied, his voice steady and confident. "Where can we meet?"The silence on the line lingered, only to be broken by the man's response. "I will send you an address.”With a curt nod, Marcus disconnected the call. "Johnson will rue the day he crossed me," he muttered under his breath, a menacing smirk curling his lips. Katherine, weary from her research, rose from her computer. "What about Sandra?" she inquired, a hint of apprehension in her voice.Marcus, his gaze shifting towards Sandra, hissed, “What is it about her?” Katherine bit her lip, worry etching lines into her face. "I don't know, Marcus. We need to be careful. She knows abou
Marcus, as cool and collected as a seasoned professional, offered a polite nod. "Nice doing business with you," he said, his words carrying the practiced tone of a man who'd been here before. Rising from the table, he turned on his heel, his footsteps silent as he navigated the maze of tables and chairs. He knew that the man, already scheming, would dispatch his men to track him down. Slipping into the bathroom, Marcus wasted no time in removing his mask and jacket, his transformation complete in mere moments.The man, a wolfish grin curling his lips, wasted no time in making a call to one of his men who was sitting across him. “He made his way towards the bathroom.” "Yes, boss," he murmured into the phone, his voice low and conspiratorial. His men stood up, straightened his suit and put on his sunglasses, knowing the plan well. He would find Marcus, and when they did, they would take the money and end his life. It was a brutal business they were in, but one they understood well.
On the television, the story of Johnson played out in vivid detail. There he was, kneeling in front of a woman, his eyes brimming with tears as he pleaded with her for sexual intimacy. The news story then shifted, revealing a second scene: Johnson, in a more sinister light, attempting to rape Sandra. The stark contrast between the two scenarios was starkly apparent, with the first scene showcasing a pitiful Johnson, and the second depicting him as a dangerous predator. The news anchors spoke in somber tones, discussing the implications of Johnson's actions and the serious consequences he would face for his crimes.Marcus let loose a chilling laugh, his dark amusement echoing through the room. This was only the start of Johnson’s punishment, he mused, reveling in his vengeance. Picking up his phone, Marcus casually transferred a whopping fifty million dollars to Katherine. In an instant, the notification lit up Katherine’s screen, the amount of the transfer emblazoned across the disp
The escape plan was forming in Johnson’s head, his eyes darting around the room before landing on the window. But before he could take a single step towards it, the police breached the room with guns drawn. “Hands up!” the lead officer ordered, his pistol aimed directly at Johnson’s skull. With an audible hiss, Johnson raised his hands in the air, slowly pivoting to face the sea of uniforms that now surrounded him.“What’s my fucking offense?” Johnson demanded, his fury palpable in the air. The police, their faces stony, parted ways as Marcus strode into the room, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk.“You?” Johnson barked, his eyes widening in surprise. Marcus chuckled, his step leisurely as he approached the enraged Johnson. Leaning in close, he whispered, “I had already forgiven you. You’d been all but forgotten until you crossed my path again.”Johnson, his rage simmering just beneath the surface, directed his attention away from Marcus and barked, “I want to know my of