Chapter 7 A Rising Drug Lord

Right in the warehouse, there was tension. Entering the house, the air would greet you with the smell of sweat, cigarette smoke, and the metallic tang of danger. Standing in a loose circle were men whose faces were hardened by years of crime. Robinson sat in an old leather chair at the centre, his fingers drumming against the armrest. His expression was unreadable, his presence commanding.

A week had passed since he learned of Lucy's survival. A week since the recruit had whispered the one name that had haunted him for years.

His sister was alive. Safe.

For now.

But safety in his world was a fleeting illusion. And Robinson knew one thing for sure-secrets never stayed buried for long.

Robinson has been thinking of what to do. If he identifies with Titi and reunites with his family, He will be exposing them to the arc rivals and enemies he has made over time. But he also wanted to protect them from harm, and he doesn't want to bring them to his world. With this, He found himself in a dilemma for days.

Meanwhile, tonight, he had bigger problems.

Knelling before him was a man whose hands were tied behind his back, face bloodied and swollen. His breathing was laboured, his eyes darting in terror.

"Please... please, Boss..." the man choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

Robinson tilted his head, studying him with cold amusement. "You know what I hate more than a rat?" His voice was eerily calm, sending a chill through the room. "A stupid rat."

The men surrounding him chuckled darkly, yet no one dared to speak.

"I swear, Boss, I didn't"

Reader! You know what? This man is a beast...!

Suddenly

A gunshot cracked through the air. Blood spilled on the floor as the echo reverberated through the warehouse. The man is dead.

Silence diffused throughout the corners of the room like a concentrated body spray, leaving everyone speechless.

Robinson lowered his gun, the barrel still smoking, the man's lifeless body slumped over.

He gave a warning statement.

Loyalty wasn't an option. It was the only way to survive.

He tossed the gun to one of his men. "Clean this up."

Then, turning to the rest of the gang, he leaned forward, his voice low but lethal.

"We move bigger now. No more small-time dealers. We take the docks."

A murmur rippled through the room.

"The docks?" his right-hand man at the time, Riko, frowned. "That's controlled by the Barlow Cartel."

Robinson smirked. "Not for long."

The Barlow Cartel. Ruthless. Connected. Feared.

But Robinson wasn't just any street thug anymore.

He was about to become the only name that mattered in the city.

It was Midnight.

The waters of the city harbour shimmered under the moonlight. Massive shipping containers loomed over the docks like silent sentinels.

Barlow's men stood in clusters, their guns hanging at their sides, their confidence thick in the air. They weren't expecting trouble.

They should have.

From the shadows, Robinson and his crew moved like ghosts.

Silencers. Blades. The whisper of death before the scream.

Gun fired. Bodies fell like leaves to the ground. No one is escaping tonight. Robinson men pound the Barlows to pieces. Blades tearing through throats with precision and accuracy like slaughterhouse workers would to animals. These men are no longer babes in this business. Robinson and his boys are now a herd of beasts and a force to be reckoned with in the underworld.

Soon, backup arrived for the enemies, but it doesn't make any difference as the Roninson's men swing into action, killing men like the were playing games. It wasn't what they expected.

Maybe it was because they overrated the barlows.

While the boys fought, Robinson found the Leader of the group and went for Him. Akare, who happened to be an old legend ,stood his ground. And it was a real comeback.

Robinson, being a very strong young man, overpowered him and slaughtered him like an animal.

Looking up, the boys were still fighting.

It wasn't a battle. It was an execution.

By the time the last body hit the ground, Robinson stood at the edge of the dock, his hands in his pockets, watching the tide pull away red-stained water.

The Barlow Cartel was no more.

The city belonged to him now.

But not so soon

The news spread fast. By sunrise, the underworld whispered a new truth-Robinson wasn't just a drug lord.

He was the drug lord.

But power made enemies.

And someone was already watching.

Whiskey poured into the glass, the amber liquid was swirled followed by a slow sip. With eyes fixed on the breaking news, the man in a tailored suit nodded, standing on the balcony of a high-rise building across the city.

He exhaled sharply, placing the glass down.

A slow smile crept onto his face.

"This boy doesn't know who he's messing with."

He thought to himself, I will wipe him and his entire crew overnight. I will teach him a lesson he will never forget in the grave, if at all he will have. Maybe I will feed him to the Crocs.

The old man had been in the business before Robinson came to the street, not to talk of the ducks. He has killed lords in the duck, shook powers that be even in the government because of his deadly connections. The lord of the Barlows was his boy, whom he raised, and since he is old, he decided to allow the boy and his boys to control the ducks, with a good commission coming to him regularly. The old man was very much okay with his retirement position. Now, a young lad is challenging him, and it's not going to be funny at all.

He turned to the man standing beside him- a shadowy figure with cold, calculating eyes.

"Send him a message," he ordered. "Make it personal."

The man nodded, disappearing into the night.

Robinson had won the docks.

But the war was far from over.