72 hours were almost up, and Blake still hadn’t found Zakir Osman. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Smith had forgotten his own threats. Blake would be relieved if he had, but he knew that was never going to happen.

After meeting with Don and discovering Tyrese’s betrayal, Blake hoped he might get some leniency by telling Mr. Smith about it. Someone was investigating his business’s profits, and Blake knew someone had to pay for that.

Then his phone rang. It was Gale. Blake answered, and moments later Gale was yelling, “He got away? How? You two couldn’t even kill a kid. You are fucking morons.”

Blake knew exactly what Gale was talking about. As soon as Tyrese betrayed them, Gale had his men dig up everything within ten minutes. Once it was confirmed, Gale sent two men to kill Yaxley, the middleman between Tyrese and the Russians. He also wanted Jamal, one of Tyrese’s men who had escaped, dead. Don had texted Blake earlier that Jamal was heading to Yaxley’s place to plan an attack on one of the syndicate’s warehouses where they stored Madness.

The meeting with Don was just a way to test Blake. His information was crucial to stopping a rival from getting Madness, which was very important to the organization. Don had passed Gale’s test and brought him into the syndicate. His future was secure for now.

But Blake’s future? He didn’t know where he stood. Just in case he didn’t make it back alive, he sent a text to his wife telling her he loved her and their daughter. His wife replied, asking what was going on, but then she just saw the message and didn’t respond. They had arrived at Mr. Smith’s mansion.

The electric gates opened automatically, and security guards greeted Gale as the car entered the driveway. Both men got out, and a bulky guard in a black suit holding a rifle welcomed them inside. Gale led Blake all the way up to Mr. Smith’s office. He went inside first and told Blake to wait outside.

Minutes felt like days as time ticked by. Today his fate would be decided. Today he would find out if he was going to die. But there was a small comfort knowing that all the money he had made working for Mr. Smith would go to his wife and daughter. He also hoped to ask Mr. Smith not to harm his family. A simple request from a loyal man, to fulfill his last wish.

A voice came from behind the door, “Enter.”

Blake took a deep breath and pushed the side of the large wooden doors, stepping into the room. Mr. Smith sat on an executive leather chair behind a big wooden table. Behind them was a tall glass window. Gale stood next to Mr. Smith on his right.

“Sit,” Gale said. Blake nervously obeyed and sat on one of the leather chairs in front of the table.

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Blake couldn’t meet Mr. Smith’s eyes. They were piercing and scary. The rest of Mr. Smith’s face was hidden in shadows, making him even more frightening.

“How many years have you worked for me, Blake?” Mr. Smith asked.

“Sir, I’ve worked with you for 20 years,” Blake replied.

“And how many times have you failed me?”

“None,” Blake said softly.

“So how is it that you failed me in this task? Bringing my son’s killer to justice.”

Blake had no good excuse. He had failed Mr. Smith. He could try to make excuses, but if Mr. Smith decided today was the day he would die, then he would surely die. So, he just told the truth.

“I’m sorry, sir. We searched the whole forest. We used helicopters and the best trackers we have, but we still couldn’t find him. It’s like he vanished, turned into a ghost. We even expanded our search to the entire southern part of the country, but he’s not there either. We thought he might have fled to another country, but there’s no record of him leaving. It’s like he just ceased to exist.”

Mr. Smith then stood up and walked over to the window, looking outside. It was pouring rain, and it seemed like it had only started when Blake came into the house. He could only see Mr. Smith’s back lit up whenever lightning flashed.

“Do you know, Blake, it’s hard to believe that a kid from a fancy school could suddenly kill my son and disappear like a ghost. I’m beginning to think there’s more to this than just a simple murder.”

Blake slowly started to understand what Mr. Smith was saying. “Are you saying someone is sabotaging the syndicate, sir?”

This time, Gale spoke up. “That’s the conclusion we’ve reached. If it weren’t for Tyrese’s betrayal, we wouldn’t have discovered the spies within our organization.”

“Spies,” Mr. Smith repeated. “So, the young Master's death wasn’t just a simple death.”

Gale nodded. “Yes, he was led to his death.”

Blake’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize something. “Then it must have been the Russians.”

Mr. Smith laughed, and Blake was shocked. It was the first time he had heard him laugh, and it felt like he had said the wrong thing. “You’re an officer, Blake. Don’t they teach you not to jump to conclusions?” Then he turned to face Blake. The shadows no longer covered his face, and the earlier joy was gone. “But if it was the Russians, then they’re going to pay.”

Blake felt a chill. This was dangerous—a full-blown gang war between the Syndicate and the Russians. The streets of London could turn into a battlefield, running red with blood. There would be nothing to stop it because if Mr. Smith thinks the Russians are behind this, they’re done for, along with anyone caught in the crossfire.

“I’m giving you more time, Blake. Six months to get to the bottom of this. Find who killed my son and who is stealing my product. Bring me that information, and you live. If you don’t, then your wife and daughter will suffer too.”