The convoy limped away from the battlefield, tires screeching across wet pavement, windows spiderwebbed with bullet holes. Inside, the air reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Ali sat with his hands trembling in his lap, the pistol still slick in his grip. He replayed the shot in his mind, over and over, the recoil, the sound, the face of the KH leader as he staggered. He had fired. He had chosen.
Across from him, Rizwan slumped against the seat. His usually immaculate posture had broken; his breathing was shallow, uneven. Blood stained his shirt, spreading in dark, wet patches.
Ali's heart clenched. "Stay awake. We're almost safe."
Rizwan's eyes found him, piercing even through pain. "Safe?" His voice cracked, but the word carried weight. "There is no safe. Not in this city. There is only prepared… or unprepared."
Ali swallowed hard, leaning forward. "Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fight them."
A faint smile tugged Rizwan's lips. "Fight them? No. You guide them. You control fear. You decide who lives in shadow and who walks free. That is power."
The car jolted to a stop. Rizwan's guards pulled the doors open, rain flooding in again. They lifted him out carefully, but his body sagged heavier than before.
Ali followed, rain plastering his hood to his head. The street was deserted, save for the convoy. Rizwan's breaths grew shallower with each passing moment.
Ali knelt beside him as the guards tried to stanch the bleeding. Rizwan's hand gripped Ali's wrist with surprising force, pulling him close.
"Listen," he rasped, voice thin but sharp. "You protect them. The weak. The innocent. You become more than noise in the dark. Do not let fear own this city."
Ali's throat tightened. "Don't say it like you're—"
But Rizwan coughed, blood bubbling at his lips. His hand shook as he dragged Ali closer. "Remember… the shadows… they are not our enemy. They are our weapon. And they are yours now."
His final breath came with the storm. His grip loosened, his body stilled.
Ali froze, staring at the man who had seemed untouchable, unstoppable. Rizwan—the legend—was gone.
Something in Ali cracked. The world around him blurred, the storm muffling into a distant roar. He felt the crushing weight of what Rizwan had left behind.
Not just vengeance. Not just survival. A legacy.
Ali rose slowly, fists clenched, rain streaming down his face like tears. The convoy's guards watched him silently, as though waiting for a signal.
Ali looked toward the city skyline, where neon flickered weakly against the storm. He whispered to himself, but the words carried in the silence.
"I'll protect them. I'll carry this. The shadows won't rule us… we'll rule them."
The rain fell harder, but Ali no longer felt the cold.
Cliffhanger: With Rizwan gone, the weight of East London's shadows falls onto Ali's shoulders. But can a boy forged in fear rise into the legend the city now demands?