Chapter 2 Frozen In Fear.

The Sound That Shattered Everything

Bang. Bang.

Two loud explosions tore through the quiet night. The sound was so sharp, so sudden, that my whole body froze before my brain could even understand what was happening. My eyes snapped toward the bed-and there was my father, his body jerking violently as the bullets ripped into his chest. A scream tried to burst out of my throat, but nothing came. My legs felt like they were made of stone. My voice was gone, swallowed by the thick, choking fear that filled the room.

Time seemed to stop.

The smell of blood-metallic and warm-mixed with the bitter stink of gunpowder. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears, like a drum beating too fast. My mind shut down, like a machine that had overheated. All I could think was one desperate, wordless plea: Don't let him shoot me. Please, don't let Dad die.

Then, cutting through the fog in my head, a single question burned like fire:

Who is this man? Who sent him?

The Face of Death

The shooter turned toward me.

His face was hidden behind a black mask, his whole body covered in dark clothes. The gun in his gloved hand glinted under the dim bedroom light-a Magnum pistol. I knew exactly what it was. My father had taught me about guns when I was seven, his voice calm as he explained how different weapons worked. Now, that same knowledge felt like a cruel joke.

He took a step closer.

Every muscle in my body screamed at me to run, but my legs wouldn't move. It was like my feet had been nailed to the floor. Fear had taken control, and I was trapped, helpless, like a mouse staring at a snake.

Then-there.

He was right in front of me, a huge, terrifying shadow. Before I could even blink, his fist smashed into my face. Pain exploded behind my eyes, white and hot. I crashed to the ground, my mouth filling with the taste of blood.

No time to recover. No mercy.

He grabbed my collar, his fingers like iron, and yanked me up. Then his knee drove into my stomach with a force that knocked the air out of me. I gasped, choking, my body folding in half as I collapsed again. Tears and blood mixed on the floor. I tried to scream, to call for help, but my voice was gone-just a weak, broken sound that disappeared before it could even form.

The Whisper in the Darkness

The attacker didn't stay.

With one last shove, he disappeared into the hallway, his footsteps fading like a bad dream. But the pain didn't leave. It burned through my ribs, my stomach, my face. Every breath felt like fire.

Then-a whisper.

Faint. Weak. But real.

"David... David..."

My father's voice.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up, one hand pressed against my aching stomach. Every movement hurt, but his voice pulled me forward. I crawled to his bedside and collapsed onto the couch, my whole body shaking.

When I looked at him, my heart broke into pieces.

The man who had carried me on his shoulders, who had laughed while teaching me how to throw a punch-now he was pale, gasping, his life leaking away into the bedsheets. Tears blurred my vision, hot and silent. Anger and regret twisted inside me like two snakes fighting.

If only I had listened to Mom. If only I had trained harder, fought better. Maybe I could have saved him. Maybe I could have killed that monster.

The weight of those maybes cut deeper than any knife.

The Last Goodbye

The room was silent except for my shaky breathing and the sound of my own racing thoughts. I paced nervously, my mind screaming with fear and denial-when suddenly, his voice came again.

"David."

I froze.

My head snapped up, and there he was-my father. His hand, once so strong, trembled as he reached for me. "David, come," he whispered, the words barely louder than a breath.

I didn't think. I just moved.

In a second, I was at his side, grabbing his hand. His skin was cold, the warmth fading like the last embers of a fire. I pulled him into a tight hug, my tears soaking into his shirt. His arms-so thin now, so weak-wrapped around me with whatever strength he had left.

When I pulled back, his eyes met mine. There was still a light in them, a flicker of the man he used to be. He smiled, weak but full of love, and my heart shattered all over again.

"David," he whispered, his voice barely there. "Please... take care of your mom for me." He took a shaky breath. "Take care of yourself. Become stronger. Don't... don't live like me." His fingers tightened around mine for just a second. "And finally, my boy... I love you so much. I always have."

The Last Breath

The words he spoke hung in the air like a sacred prayer-final, unchangeable. And then... silence.

His chest stopped moving. His hand, still wrapped in mine, grew stiff. The warmth drained from his skin, disappearing like water sinking into dry sand.

No.

No, no, no.

I couldn't believe it. My hands shook as I rolled him onto his back and pressed down on his chest, counting under my breath like a desperate prayer. One, two, three, four. I tilted his head back, covered his mouth with mine, and forced air into his lungs. Again. Again.

"Breathe!" I screamed, my voice breaking. "Damn it, breathe!"

But nothing happened. No gasp. No flutter of his eyelids. Just... stillness.

A scream tore from my throat-raw, broken, filled with pain. The sound echoed through the room, a cry of grief that seemed to shake the walls.

Then-footsteps. Fast, panicked. The door flew open, and there stood my mother, her face twisted in horror. Behind her, guards and doctors rushed in, their expressions grim.

Mom's eyes locked onto my father's body-onto the blood soaking his shirt, onto the terrible truth she already knew. A sound escaped her lips-half scream, half sob-before her legs gave out. She collapsed beside us, her hands grabbing his shoulders, shaking him as if she could wake him from this nightmare.

"Honey, please," she begged, her voice cracking. "Come back. You-you always said no one could kill you. You said you were unstoppable. You promised! You promised to protect us!"

Her fists pounded against his chest, each hit weaker than the last. "Don't you dare die now. Don't you dare leave us. Please... please..."

Her voice was shattered, broken in a way I had never heard before-and never wanted to hear again.

"No, no, no-wake up! Look at me!"

She clutched his lifeless hand, her fingers trembling. His skin was already cold, the strong man I had known now just... gone. The machines around him had flat lined, their steady beeps replaced by a silence so loud it hurt.

The guards-men who had served my father for years, their faces hardened by battle-couldn't take it anymore. One of them, a tall man with a scar down his cheek, stepped forward, his voice rough but gentle.

"Ma'am... we have to go."

She didn't answer. Didn't even seem to hear him. Her screams had turned into whispers, desperate words spoken to a man who could no longer hear her. The guards exchanged glances before finally, with careful hands, they pulled her away. She fought them weakly, her strength gone, her voice hoarse from crying.

And then... the doctors came.

Their faces were serious, their words cold and clinical. "Time of death..."

I didn't hear the rest.

The Numbness After

I sat on the stiff hospital couch, my body frozen, my mind racing yet empty at the same time. The room blurred around me. People moved in flashes-doctors, guards, strangers-their voices fading into a distant hum.

Time felt broken. The world kept moving, but I was stuck in that one horrible moment.

My tears had dried up. There was nothing left inside me but a hollow, aching pain-like my heart had been ripped out.

And then... something new took hold.

Rage.

Cold. Sharp. All-consuming.

I will kill them.

The thought burned through me, a vow written in fire. Every person who had a hand in this-every traitor, every liar, every coward who betrayed him-would pay.

The Ride Home

Hours passed in a daze. The guards returned, their faces unreadable, their movements quick and efficient. They didn't speak as they led me out of the hospital, their hands firm on my shoulders, as if they thought I might collapse.

The car ride was silent. Outside, the city was alive-cars honking, people laughing, vendors shouting-but inside the car, it was a tomb. My mother sat beside me, her eyes blank, her fingers clutching a crumpled tissue.

We arrived at my father's home-no, our home-though it didn't feel like home anymore. The grand gates, the perfectly trimmed gardens, the huge mansion that had once been a symbol of his power... now it was just a hollow shell.

The Secret Buried With Him

Two days later, my father's body was sent back to his hometown for burial.

But we didn't go.

"They can't know about us," my mother whispered, her voice brittle. "Your father... he married me in secret. His family never approved. To them, I was just a maid. If they find out he had a wife... if they find out about you..."

She didn't need to finish.

My father was the richest man in Nigeria. His fortune was a prize-something people would kill for. And now... they had.

A Son's Vengeance

I stood in front of his portrait, my reflection overlapping his stern, proud face.

"Dad," I whispered, my voice steady, my hands clenched into fists. "I promise you. I will kill every last one of them."

The words hung in the air, a vow written in blood.

To be continued.