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The Hustler’s Gamble 18: Unfinished Business
Jamal stared at his phone long after the call ended. His brother, Khalil. The name alone brought back memories he had spent years trying to bury—nights spent wondering where he had gone, days spent resenting him for leaving. And now, after everything, he wanted to talk. Jamal exhaled sharply and pushed himself up from his desk. His world had been chaotic enough already, and now the past was clawing its way back in. Instead of dwelling on it, he decided to clear his mind the best way he knew how. A Familiar Face That evening, Jamal found himself back at the market, drawn by something he couldn’t quite explain. He walked past stalls of traders selling everything from fresh produce to handmade crafts. The air buzzed with life, the scent of grilled chicken and spices thick in the air. And then he saw her. Nadine was exactly where he had left her, sitting behind her stall, stringing beads together with quiet focus. Unlike the other vendors, she wasn’t trying to pull in customers.
The Hustler’s Gamble 19 : shadows in the dark
The Warning The next morning, Jamal stepped out of his apartment, Malik by his side. The city was just waking up, but something felt off. As they approached his car, he noticed a small envelope tucked under the windshield wiper. Frowning, he pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a single playing card. A black king. Malik whistled low. “Damn.” Jamal’s stomach twisted. “You know what this means?” Malik nodded. “Yeah. It means they know exactly who you are.” Jamal exhaled. He had fought too hard to lose now. If The Syndicate wanted a war They were about to get one. An Unfamiliar Face That evening, Jamal was at Rico’s Bar, sitting in his usual corner booth, deep in thought. The bar was busier than usual, with groups of people laughing, drinking, and talking over the low hum of music. His eyes scanned the room out of habit, watching for anything out of place. That’s when he noticed her. Nadine. She was behind the counter, speaking to one of the bartenders. She wa
The Hustler’s Gamble 20 : into the lion’s den
Obsidian Lounge was nothing like Rico’s Bar. It was sleek, modern, and exclusive—only the rich, powerful, or dangerous got in. Jamal walked past the velvet ropes, nodding at the bouncer. The man barely glanced at him before stepping aside. They had been expecting him. Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke and quiet conversations. Business deals were being made in dark corners, and waitresses in expensive dresses moved gracefully between tables. Jamal spotted a man in a tailored suit seated at a private booth. He was the one waiting. As Jamal approached, the man gestured for him to sit. “Mr. Carter. You’re punctual. That’s good.” Jamal slid into the seat, studying the man. Late forties, calm demeanor, but there was something in his eyes—something calculating. This wasn’t just a foot soldier. “I assume you’re with The Syndicate,” Jamal said, keeping his voice level. The man smiled. “You could say that. My name is Gabriel Sanni. I oversee certain... operations in the S
The Hustler’s Gamble 21 : A deal with the devil
Jamal hadn’t wanted to call Khalil. Too much history. Too much betrayal. But desperate men didn’t get to be picky. He found Khalil at a high-end lounge in the city. Unlike Jamal, Khalil was still thriving. Dressed in an expensive suit, a glass of whiskey in hand, he looked exactly like the kind of man Jamal had once despised. “You look like hell,” Khalil remarked as Jamal sat down. Jamal didn’t waste time. “The Syndicate took everything.” Khalil raised an eyebrow. “Not surprised.” “You said you knew people. People who worked with them.” Khalil nodded. “I do.” “I need information. Leverage. Something to hit back.” Khalil smirked. “You don’t have the resources to hit back.” Jamal’s fists clenched. “Then help me get them.” Khalil studied him. “You’re asking me to go against people who could destroy both of us.” Jamal didn’t flinch. “They already destroyed me. What do I have to lose?” Silence stretched between them. Then Khalil sighed. “Alright. There might be a way. But you won’
The Hustler’s Gamble 22 : Fire and Blood
Later that night, Jamal met with khalil and Malik in an abandoned warehouse. Malik looked skeptical. “So, what did you give Rico?” Jamal smirked. “Let’s just say I still have friends in the right places.” Khalil shook his head. “You’re playing a dangerous game.” Jamal’s smirk faded. “I know.” Malik sighed. “So what’s next?” Jamal’s expression hardened. “We start taking back what’s ours.” Khalil chuckled. “And how do you plan to do that?” Jamal turned to him. “By hitting them where it hurts.” The fight wasn’t over. It was just beginning. Striking First Two nights later, Jamal stood on the rooftop of an abandoned building overlooking one of The Syndicate’s storage facilities. It was a warehouse near the port, a key part of their smuggling operation. Jamal adjusted the earpiece Malik had given him. “You in position?” Malik’s voice crackled through. “Yeah. Cameras are looped. You’ve got five minutes before someone notices.” Jamal nodded and signaled Khalil, who was waiting b
The Hustler’s Gamble 23: the road to retaliation
Jamal had lost everything before—but this time, he refused to stay down. The Syndicate had pushed him to the edge, and now, it was his turn to push back.The S.S had changed since The Dominion fell. The power vacuum had made the streets more chaotic, and everyone was looking for a new king. Jamal had to make sure they saw him as the only option.But first, he needed to rebuild his empire.And that started with making money.A New HustleJamal sat in Malik’s dimly lit apartment, a map of the city spread out on the table. Khalil leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Malik clicked through files on his laptop.“We need cash flow,” Malik said. “Fast.”Khalil smirked. “So we’re back to basics?”Jamal nodded. “We do what we know best—hustle.”Malik glanced up. “I’ve been digging around. The Syndicate’s got their hands in a lot—real estate, smuggling, illegal gambling. But the easiest way to hurt them?” He turned the laptop around, showing a list of businesses. “Their money-laundering
The Hustler’s Gamble 24: the counter strike
Jamal had drawn first blood, but he knew The Syndicate wouldn’t let it slide. Taking Vortex had sent a clear message, and now, the real war was about to begin.Sitting in Malik’s apartment, Jamal leaned over a map of the city, his mind racing through every possible move. Khalil sat opposite him, casually flipping a knife between his fingers, while Malik worked his laptop, gathering intel.“They’re going to hit back soon,” Malik said without looking up. “They’ve already tightened security at their other spots. No one’s making a move without direct orders from the top.”Jamal smirked. “Good. That means they’re feeling the pressure.”Khalil exhaled. “Feeling pressure and folding are two different things, bro. We just killed one of their guys. You think they’re gonna sit back?”“No,” Jamal admitted. “They’re going to come for me.”A Sudden AmbushJamal’s prediction came true faster than expected.Three nights after taking Vortex, he was heading to his car after a meeting with a potential
The Hustler’s Gamble 25 : Blood and business
Jamal had secured an alliance with Ogundele, but he knew that promises and handshakes meant nothing without action. The Syndicate wasn’t going to sit back and let him rise again. If he wanted to survive—and win—he had to strike first. A Calculated Strike Jamal, Khalil, and Malik sat in a dimly lit warehouse on the S.S, studying a layout of The Syndicate’s major operations. “They’ve got three key money sources,” Malik said, pointing at the map. “A high-stakes gambling spot in the city,a drug warehouse, and an illegal offshore money laundering hub .” Jamal rubbed his chin. “The gambling spot—how much does it make?” Khalil smirked. “A lot. It’s where politicians and criminals mix. The Syndicate doesn’t just make money from the bets; they control debts, blackmail people, and move cash through the system.” Jamal exhaled. “That’s our target.” Malik frowned. “You sure? If we hit that, it’s war.” Jamal’s jaw tightened. “It already is.” A Night of ChaosThe gambling den was hidden beh
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77: Ghosts in the dark
Jamal sat on the edge of the battered couch in the safe house, his head bowed, hands clasped together. His chest still burned from the heat of the explosion. His ears rang from the sound of the blast, the ghost of it still echoing in his mind. His fingers brushed over a fresh cut on his brow, the sting pulling him back into the present.Khalil paced the room, the tension rolling off him in waves. Nadine sat at the table, nursing a cut on her arm. A bottle of whiskey sat in front of her, untouched.“We had him,” Khalil muttered. His fists were clenched. “We had him in our sights.” Jamal’s jaw tightened. “And he slipped away.”“He won’t stay hidden forever,” Nadine said, her voice sharp. “A man like that can’t resist control for long.”Jamal’s eyes darkened. “That’s what I’m counting on.”The room fell into silence. Rain tapped against the thin windows, a steady rhythm against the sound of their heavy breaths. Jamal’s mind ran through every step of the night. They had gotten close — too
76: the final play and final move
Jamal stood in the darkened hallway of the elite private club in Ikoyi. The black card Amara had given him earlier sat between his fingers, its glossy surface catching the dim light from the crystal chandeliers above. He could feel the weight of the room before he even walked in—the hum of whispered conversations, the tension behind guarded eyes, and the underlying current of danger that ran through the walls like electricity.Malik and Nadine stood behind him, both dressed sharply. Malik wore a dark suit with no tie, his posture relaxed but his eyes cold. Nadine, dressed in a sleek black dress, had her hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her hand hovered close to the concealed blade strapped to her thigh.“You sure about this?” Malik asked.Jamal’s jaw tightened. “If they want to play, let’s play.”Nadine’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a game, Jamal.”Jamal’s smile was cold. “It’s always a game.”The heavy oak doors at the end of the hallway creaked open. A tall man in a tailored black su
75: a new throne
Jamal stood on the balcony of his penthouse in Ikoyi, overlooking the restless lights of Lagos. The air was thick with humidity, the distant hum of the city’s nightlife vibrating beneath his feet. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table next to him. He didn’t need the burn of alcohol to feel the weight of what he had done.It was over.The Syndicate was dead.The Broker was gone, taken out in a coordinated strike that left the underworld without a leader for the first time in years. Jamal’s rise to power was no longer a secret whispered in dark corners —it was a fact written in blood.Malik stepped onto the balcony, his expression as sharp as ever. He held a cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing in the dark. “The last of the Broker’s men are scattering,” he said. “Some tried to regroup. Khalil handled it.”Jamal’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “And the money?”“Cleaned and secured,” Malik replied. He took a long drag. “The businesses under the Broker’s control—c
74: the gathering storm
Jamal stood at the edge of the waterfront in Victoria Island, the moonlight reflecting off the black waters of the Atlantic. The salty breeze tugged at his jacket, but his mind was far from the restless waves. His focus was on the phone in his hand and the message that had come through barely an hour ago.“Tomorrow night. The Syndicate meets. Be ready.”From The Broker.He had rattled the foundation of Lagos’ underworld. Now The Broker was forcing his hand. A meeting like this wasn’t just a threat—it was a declaration of war.Malik approached, hands in his pockets. “We sure about this?” Jamal’s gaze remained fixed on the water. “He wants to negotiate.” Malik scoffed. “That’s not what this is. It’s a setup.”“I know,” Jamal replied.Malik stepped closer. “Then why are we walking into it?”“Because he wants me to believe I don’t have a choice.”Malik’s eyes darkened. “And do you?”Jamal slipped his phone into his jacket. “We’ll see.”Behind them, Khalil and Nadine stood at the edge of t
73: The broker’s den
Jamal sat in the back seat of the black SUV, his eyes focused on the dark Lagos skyline as they approached the edge of the city. The Broker had finally responded. After months of chasing shadows, breaking down Syndicate operations, and dismantling the power structure beneath him, Jamal had forced The Broker’s hand.Malik drove, his hands tight on the wheel, eyes sharp as they passed through the dimly lit streets. Khalil sat in the passenger seat, his pistol resting on his lap, eyes scanning the road for any signs of a tail. Nadine was seated next to Jamal, her body tense, a compact submachine gun strapped across her chest. Julius sat beside her, hands cuffed, his mouth curled into an amused smile.“You nervous?” Julius asked, his tone mocking. Jamal didn’t look at him. “No.”Julius chuckled. “You should be.”The meeting location was in a private estate deep in Ikoyi—a secluded, high-security compound surrounded by electric fences and private security. Julius had arranged the meeting u
72: the broker’s move
Jamal sat in the safe house, the dim light from a single bulb casting shadows across the room. His hands were pressed together, fingers steepled under his chin. The cold steel of his gun rested on the table beside him. Khalil stood by the window, peering through the blinds, while Malik paced the room, his restless energy palpable. Nadine sat on the edge of the couch, her face tense, arms crossed.They had taken out Bako. That was supposed to weaken the Syndicate. Instead, it felt like they had stirred a hornet’s nest.“They’ll hit back,” Khalil said, his voice low. “Hard.”“They already have.” Nadine’s voice was cold. She gestured to the television mounted on the wall.Jamal’s eyes flicked toward the screen. The news anchor’s expression was grim as footage of burning buildings and police barricades filled the screen.“A wave of coordinated attacks swept through Lagos overnight. Multiple businesses and political offices have been targeted, including a car bomb outside the governor’s ma
71: Crashing the meeting
Jamal stood in the shadows outside the estate, his eyes fixed on the tall, wrought-iron gates. Beyond them, the Syndicate’s council was gathering. The estate was massive—a colonial-style mansion set back from the road, hidden behind manicured hedges and an army of security guards. Floodlights lit up the driveway, where black SUVs were lined in perfect rows.Khalil crouched beside him, adjusting the scope on his rifle. “Six guards at the entrance,” he said. “More on the perimeter.”“Cameras on the west and east walls,” Malik added, positioned on Jamal’s other side. He had a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.Nadine knelt behind them, her eyes narrowed. “We could hit them from the east side. Blind spot between the cameras.”Jamal shook his head. “They’ll expect that.” His gaze darkened. “We go in through the front.” Khalil frowned. “That’s suicide.”Jamal’s smile was cold. “No. It’s a message.”Nadine’s mouth tightened. “You sure about this?”Jamal’s eyes sharpened. “It’s the onl
70: A message in blood
Jamal stood at the edge of the rooftop, the lights of Lagos stretching out beneath him in a sea of glittering gold and white. The night air was thick and humid, clinging to his skin like a second layer. His hands rested on the cold steel of the railing as he stared out over the city.Behind him, Malik, Khalil, and Nadine were gathered around a table covered in blueprints, weapons, and burner phones. The safe house was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and the low buzz of tension in the air.Malik tapped a finger on the blueprint. “The estate’s layout is tight. No obvious security, but that’s a trap in itself.”Khalil leaned over the table. “We’d need to breach the perimeter fast and quiet. If we trip an alarm, we’ll have every hired gun in Lagos coming down on us.”Jamal’s gaze was hard. “We’re not breaching anything.”Malik’s head snapped toward him. “What?”Jamal turned from the window. “We’re not sneaking in. We’re walking through the front door.”Khalil frowned. “That’s
69: loose ends
Jamal sat in the back seat of the black SUV, his eyes fixed on the dark cityscape rushing past the window. The night was quiet now, but the adrenaline still hummed in his veins. His hands were steady, but his mind was spinning.The Broker was dead.But his last words haunted Jamal.“You think this ends with me? I’m just the beginning.”Jamal rubbed his hands over his face. He should feel relief. This was the moment he’d been working toward for years—taking down the Syndicate’s shadowy puppet master. But instead of satisfaction, there was only a growing sense of unease.“We need to regroup,” Malik said from the seat beside him. His face was hard, his tone sharp. Jamal lowered his hands. “We’re not finished.”Malik’s gaze sharpened. “You don’t believe him, do you?”Jamal’s jaw tightened. “He had no reason to lie.”Khalil turned from the front seat, his expression grim. “What are you thinking?”Jamal leaned back, his fingers drumming on his knee. “If The Broker was part of something bigg
