Ochieng's pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the empty rooftop. Gone. The Phantom had disappeared as if he had never been there.
Sienna cursed under her breath, eyes darting in every direction. "No way he just vanished like that."
Abasi arrived seconds later, panting from the chase. "Where the hell did he go?"
Ochieng didn't answer. He walked slowly to where The Phantom had last stood, eyes sharp, taking in every detail. No ropes. No zip lines. No hidden exits.
Then he spotted it—a single playing card fluttering near the edge of the rooftop.
He picked it up.
The Ace of Spades.
Sienna frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Ochieng turned the card over. There was something written on it in ink, smudged slightly from the night air.
'Better luck next time.'
Abasi clenched his fists. "That bastard's playing with us."
Sienna exhaled, shaking her head. "No. He's leading us somewhere."
Ochieng pocketed the card. "Then we follow."
---
By the time they returned to the auction venue, the scene was a disaster. The once-lavish ballroom was now littered with shattered glass, bullet holes, and bodies. The air smelled of blood and gunpowder.
Survivors were being led away by their bodyguards, whispering in hushed, fearful tones. The underground elite had just witnessed something they never thought possible—a ghost in human form, taking out the untouchables.
One man, dressed in an expensive three-piece suit, limped toward them. His silver hair was slicked back, and a deep gash ran across his cheek.
"Mr. Lang," Ochieng greeted, recognizing one of the city's most powerful underworld brokers.
Lang wiped blood from his lips and laughed dryly. "You've made some interesting enemies, Mr. Ochieng. That wasn't an assassination—it was a message."
Sienna crossed her arms. "And what was the message?"
Lang's gaze darkened. "No one is safe."
---
Hours later, Ochieng sat in his private suite, staring at the playing card.
The Phantom wasn't running. He was in control.
Every move, every kill, every escape—all part of a bigger game.
Ochieng clenched his jaw. "What are you really after?"
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown Number: Still chasing ghosts, Ochieng?
His grip on the phone tightened.
Another message.
Unknown Number: Meet me at the Black Lotus Club. Midnight.
The Phantom was calling him out.
Ochieng smirked, grabbing his coat.
"Time to end this game."
---
The club was buried deep in the heart of the city, hidden behind a neon-lit alley that only the most powerful knew existed. A place where billionaires, criminals, and the elite indulged in their darkest desires.
Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating with wealth and danger. The scent of expensive perfume mixed with cigar smoke, and the low hum of jazz music barely covered the whispers of illegal deals.
Ochieng walked in, eyes scanning the velvet booths, the crystal chandeliers reflecting fragmented light across the room. He ignored the curious stares—a lone man walking into a den of wolves.
A waitress, dressed in a slitted black dress, approached him. "Looking for someone?"
He slipped her a hundred-dollar bill. "The Phantom."
She hesitated, then nodded toward the VIP lounge upstairs.
As Ochieng ascended the spiral staircase, his fingers brushed the hidden knife strapped to his side. He wasn't here for a drink.
At the top, two heavily armed guards blocked the entrance.
"Invitation only," one of them said.
Ochieng smirked and held up the Ace of Spades. "I have one."
The guards exchanged glances before stepping aside.
He walked in.
---
The VIP lounge was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single chandelier above a poker table.
Sitting at the table was The Phantom.
Dressed in a sleek black suit, his features were sharp, almost aristocratic, yet his eyes carried the weight of someone who had seen the abyss and walked away smiling.
He shuffled a deck of cards, calm and composed. "Ochieng. You made it."
Ochieng took a seat across from him. "I don't play games."
The Phantom chuckled. "Then why are you here?"
Ochieng's expression remained cold. "Because you wanted me to be."
The Phantom slid a card across the table. Ochieng flipped it over.
The Joker.
"You're playing with fire," Ochieng warned.
The Phantom leaned forward. "And you're still trying to put it out."
Ochieng clenched his fists. "What do you want?"
The Phantom smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "The same thing you do. The truth."
Ochieng narrowed his eyes. "Then start talking."
The Phantom picked up a glass of whiskey, swirling it slowly. "Tell me, Ochieng. How much do you really know about the people you work for?"
A sharp silence filled the room.
Ochieng didn't answer.
The Phantom smirked. "That's what I thought."
He leaned back. "You're chasing ghosts, my friend. But the real monster? He's standing in the light, not the shadows."
Ochieng's mind raced. He had spent years hunting criminals, exposing underground conspiracies. But now, for the first time, he felt like he was the one being hunted.
The Phantom placed another card on the table. The King of Diamonds.
Ochieng stared at it.
The Phantom's voice dropped to a whisper. "Find the King, and you'll find your answers."
Ochieng looked up, but—
The Phantom was already gone.
---