Gun’s pulse raced as he stared at his burner phone, his finger hovering over the dial button. The number he had saved earlier taunted him, demanding answers. With a deep breath, he pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear, his heart pounding against his ribs.

  After a few rings, someone answered. The voice on the other end was deep and chillingly familiar. “Who’s calling?”

  Gun froze, the bottle of water in his other hand slipping and cttering to the floor. That voice—it was impossible. His chest tightened as panic gripped him. It sounded exactly like King. The same King who should’ve been dead.

  He smmed the phone down, cutting the call with trembling hands. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps. He couldn’t believe it. King was dead. He saw his dead body. There was no way—

  The burner phone buzzed in his hand, making him flinch. He stared at the screen as the same number fshed across it. His hand shook as he hesitated before answering.

  “Who is this?” Gun demanded, his voice betraying his fear.

  There was a short pause before the voice on the other end spoke, calm and deliberate. “I should be asking you that. Who just called me?” The unmistakable tone of King’s voice sent a chill down Gun’s spine.

  Gun didn’t answer. He cut the call again, his mind reeling. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and the familiar sting of tears burned his eyes. It couldn’t be.

  Shoving the burner phone onto the table, Gun opened the bedside drawer and pulled out his gun, and he tucked it behind his back as he stormed out of the room. His thoughts were a storm of rage and confusion. If King was alive, Chips would know. Chips had to know.

  Gun strode to the couch and loomed over his sleeping form. Without hesitation, he spped him hard across the face, startling him awake.

  “What the hell?” Chips groaned, rubbing his cheek as he blinked up at Gun in confusion.

  Gun leaned down, his voice low and dangerous. “Why is King alive?”

  Chips froze, his confusion turning into disbelief. “What are you talking about? King’s dead. You saw it, I saw it—”

  Gun didn’t let him finish. He grabbed Chips by the colr and hauled him up from the couch, the hidden gun pressing into his back. “Don’t lie to me, Chips!” he hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “I heard his voice just now. I know it was him. How is he alive?”

  Chips stared at him, wide-eyed and bewildered. “Gun, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about! King’s gone!”

  *

  Chips clutched his bleeding leg, his teeth clenched in pain, as Gun loomed over him, the barrel of the gun still hot. Sweat poured down Chips’s face as he tried to stay conscious, but the agony was almost unbearable.

  “Speak, Chips,” Gun snarled, his voice low and venomous. “Or the next one won’t be in your leg.”

  Chips panted, shaking his head weakly. “Gun, I swear... you’re just tired. You’re imagining things—”

  Gun’s patience snapped. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired again; the bullet lodging itself in Chips’s other leg. Chips screamed, his body writhing on the couch as his blood soaked into the cushions.

  “I’m not asking again!” Gun growled, his eyes bzing. “Why is King alive?”

  Chips was trembling now, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Gun...” he whimpered, tears streaming down his face. “I... I can’t—”

  The third shot silenced his protests, grazing his shoulder this time. Chips cried out in agony, his resolve finally crumbling under the relentless assault. “Okay! Okay!” he gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I’ll tell you—just stop!”

  Gun lowered the gun slightly, though his expression remained hard. “Then start talking. Now.”

  Chips coughed, struggling to steady his breathing. “King... faked his death,” he said, his voice weak and trembling. “He didn’t die that night. He let everyone think he did so he could move in the shadows.”

  Gun’s grip on the gun tightened, his jaw clenching. “Why? What the hell was he doing?”

  Chips swallowed hard, grimacing in pain. “He wanted revenge,” he admitted. “On the people who shot you back in university. Those gangs—they were a threat to him, to his throne. So he used his ‘death’ to wipe them out without anyone suspecting.”

  Gun’s stomach churned as memories of that day fshed through his mind. “And?” he demanded. “What else?”

  Chips hesitated, but the cold gre in Gun’s eyes pushed him to continue. “By doing all this,” he said slowly, “King got himself a chair in the Bratva. He’s in deeper than ever, Gun. He’s... he’s more powerful now than he ever was before.”

  Gun’s nostrils fred as rage consumed him. He stepped back, pacing the room as his mind raced. “That motherfucker,” he spat, his voice filled with venom. “He left me—abandoned me—to run another gang?”

  Chips flinched at the venom in his tone but managed to nod weakly. “He thought it was the only way to keep you safe. He didn’t want you dragged into it again.”

  “Safe?” he hissed. “He let me think he was dead, Chips! He made me bury him in my mind, move on with my life—while he was out there pying in the shadows and I had to take over both of his empires!”

  Chips didn’t respond, too consumed by the pain radiating through his body. Gun’s hand clenched into a fist as his chest heaved with fury.

  “He doesn’t get to make that call,” Gun said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. “If he wanted to protect me, he should’ve stayed.”

  “Where is he, Chips?” he demanded. “Tell me where to find him.”