October 17, 2024:
As dawn broke, something darker than the night settled over Narco's life. By evening, he returned to his empty house, feeling utterly defeated. His life's work, his reputation—destroyed, all because of his son, Benjamin. The friends he'd trusted had stripped him of everything, leaving him alone and shattered as well.
"Ahhhhhhh...!" His scream filled the silent house, the agony echoing through every corner. The betrayal replayed in his mind.
That morning, Narco had tried to enter the Alpha Group headquarters but was blocked by cold stares from James, Hudson, and Russo.
"What's going on?" he asked, confused. "Why do I need permission to be in my own office now?"
James's voice was flat. "We're removing your shares from Alpha Group, Narco."
"What? Why?" His voice trembled.
Brown sighed, hands in his pockets. "Your reputation's ruined. None of us want a suspected traitor here."
"Especially with Sanderson Corp on the line," Russo sneered. "The company won't risk its name for someone whose son turned out to be a maniac."
"He wasn't alone in this!" Narco protested.
"Maybe," Hudson said, voice icy. "But Alphas won't be associated with scandal. Consider yourself lucky we're letting you leave quietly."
"I have rights too! I helped build this group!"
Russo shook his head. "You're poison, Narco. And we're cutting you out."
Desperate, Narco looked to James, his last hope. "James, please! We've known each other for years. You know I'd never betray the company."
But James turned away, silent.
Betrayed and furious, Narco clenched his fists, his heart hardened with rage. As he got into his car, he muttered through gritted teeth, "I'll get back at every single one of you."
*****
Narco's fury boiled over as he stormed to his room, opened his safe, and pulled out a file on Hudson—evidence of years of corruption. "I'll bring you down too, Hudson and Brown," he muttered, gripping the folder. Revenge filled his mind. "When this hits the media, I'll watch you all crumble."
He dialled a number, but before it could connect, a strange sound echoed through the house. Heart pounding, he set the file down and went to investigate.
Emerging from the shadows, a masked figure appeared, the face of a grim reaper. "Who are you?" Narco demanded, fear seeping into his voice.
The intruder chuckled darkly. "Who am I? I am the devil, who came for justice. I am your death, Narco."
P"P-please, I have money. I can pay you." He stuttered in fear. "T-take whatever you want. J-just let me go," he pleaded in desperation.
But the intruder's laughter filled the air again, "There's nothing you can give me, Narco. You're already finished."
Tension hung heavily in the air as Narco made a final desperate attempt to escape. He tried running towards his room, aiming for the gun that lay on one of his desks. However, before he could take another step, the masked man moved with incredible speed and delivered a brutal blow to his head. Agonizing pain consumed him, and darkness enveloped his senses until he fell to the floor.
Is this the end? It must be. He thought before closing his eyes.
The shadowy figure gripped Narco's leg tightly and slowly dragged him out of his living room, leading him to the bedroom where he was bound to a chair with wires. Narco stays unconscious, but then the slow sound of water overflowing from the bathroom wakes him up. He found himself bound and helpless, the shadow man playing with the wires in his hand.
Nausea hit him, and Narco fought against the restraints. "Who are you?" he whispered, trembling. "Did Hudson and Brown send you?"
The figure leaned closer, voice full of contempt. "Do you think they can control me? No. I'm here to make you pay for your sins. You stayed silent while others bled."
"I-I don't understand. I never did anything..."
"That's exactly the problem," the figure spat. "Your silence is a crime, Narco. And now, your time is up."
Narco's panic surged. "What are you going to do to me?"
A cold smirk appeared beneath the mask. "I'm going to give you what you deserve. And when I'm done, you'll be lucky if you don't end up in hell facing a far worse devil than me."
Narco struggled frantically. "You won't get away with this. The police will find you."
The man let out a mocking laugh. "If the police were that capable, they would've found out about you long ago."
Narco's voice was a broken whisper. "Tell me what you want. I can give you anything."
"You already lost everything, Narco," the man said, amusement in his voice. "I made sure of it."
A chilling realization hit Narco. "You... you killed my son, framed me. You're the real killer!"
The man nodded slowly, savoring Narco's horror. "Too late to know the truth now, Narco."
With that, he activated the wires, sending a jolt of pain through Narco's body. Narco screamed, agony ripping through him. Moments later, the man raised his gun, aimed it beneath Narco's chin, and pulled the trigger.
Narco's body hit the floor with a lifeless thud. Eyes wide in shock, blood pooling around him, as the man walked away, leaving him like that.
*****
James sat alone in his dimly lit study, watching a video sent to him anonymously—something he never expected. It hinted that someone was digging into the past. But that wasn't all. Narco was missing, and a file meant to stay hidden was now in front of the media.
The Alpha Group shares were plummeting, and the empire he'd spent twenty-three years building was in jeopardy. The path to the presidency was slipping away, leaving him with regret for ever trusting Narco and Hudson.
London loomed as his last hope.
A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Enjoying yourself?" Russo sneered from behind him.
James turned to find Russo grinning. The man was dangerously unpredictable, twisted enough to act without hesitation if it meant protecting what he cared about—especially Oliver, who was now missing. But James knew better: he was the true monster here, and Alpha Group was his domain.
"Morning news always has something fascinating these days," James replied coolly, shutting off the video on his computer. He didn't want Russo to catch wind of the new threat that had surfaced that morning.
Russo took a seat, unbothered. "Narco was reckless, but his mistakes might actually benefit us," he said with a smirk.
James narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"White gold from Africa," Russo replied cryptically. "The falling shares could work in our favor."
James tensed. How did Russo know? His pursuit of the gold had been a well-guarded secret. Masking his unease, he feigned ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Russo chuckled darkly. "Let's not play games. I know you're heading back to London for the gold. I want fifty per cent."
James clenched his fists, seething. "Are you insane? I risked everything for that gold."
Unfazed, Russo poured himself a drink. "I also know your secrets, James—secrets that could end your ambitions."
Fury boiled within James, but he kept his composure. "You're not threatening me, are you?"
Russo laughed cruelly, sipping his whiskey. "Not yet. You have sixty days to hand over my share. In the meantime, I'll ensure our old friends get what they deserve. I'll protect you, for now."
James's mind raced with thoughts of strangling Russo, silencing him forever. But he had to tread carefully; one misstep could undo everything. After a tense silence, he finally nodded. "Fine."
Russo's smirk deepened as he took a sip, savoring his temporary victory. But James's thoughts were venomous: Smile while you can, Russo. Soon enough, I'll find a way to silence you.
He lifted his glass, concealing the storm brewing within.
Moments later, he dialed Hudson's number, his fingers pressing harder than necessary. Hudson answered almost instantly. "James, I—I don't know how it got out, I swear, I..." His voice wavered, laced with frustration, anger, and an unmistakable edge of fear.
James let out a controlled sigh, cold and steady. "There's only one way forward now... You'll have to return back. Soon."