It was the last rain of the season.
The kind that felt like the sky was weeping with the earth.
The wind howled through the streets, dancing through broken branches and wet lamp posts. Every drop hit the ground hard, as if it carried the weight of unspoken grief. The storm wasn't violent..it was tired, like a long sigh after a painful journey.
Darkness knelt in the middle of the road.
No umbrella.
No coat.
Just him and the rain.
His black clothes clung to his body, soaked through.
His dark hair fell messily over his eyes, water trailing down his face like silent tears.
But it wasn't clear if he was actually crying Or if it was just the rain pretending to cry for him.
The street was empty.
Just like his chest.
His goal was completed.
Grandma Bria was dead.
Nyom Brown's empire was gone And his team was already on the move. He would be handed over to the police, exposed for every crime he ever committed.
The revenge he waited for...
