no man's land || kgf (slow updates)

fourteen

note- refer to chapter 8 if you wanna catch up

1971

SOUTH AFRICA

Weddings and funerals had one thing in common.

They were just elaborate shows of wealth. It was very evident in the intricate carvings and the gold inlay of Amari Eusolo's coffin. 

So much for a dead man. She scoffed quietly. Her black veil wavering. 

Despite the somber mood, she felt a rush of delight looking at every person who had attended the funeral. 

All influential people. 

People with power. 

An involuntary smile tugged at her lips as she watched the men and women walk into the room, reeking of fake sympathy. 

Nobody really cared. They were just interested in Jabari Eusolo. 

Jabari was a quiet yet loud man. He spoke a few words, but his stature and aura commanded the room. He sat in a corner, emotionless. 

He wore a stark white suit, a sharp contrast to the deep brown of his skin, but more unsettling than that were his eyes. A blinding shade of grey. It moved like a panther's, quietly assessing his guests. 

Some came up to him and offered him empty words of assurance. 

They didn't mean it. 

He didn't care. 

When it was all over and the heavy black drapes were lifted off of her, she sighed in happiness. All she wanted to do was sink into her camphor scented bath with a bottle of wine. 

But of course, happiness had to wait. 

She, along with the other women, was summoned to the conference room. Jabari Eusolo had an announcement to make and she was eager to hear it. 

She put on simple clothing which were a bland shade of beige and walked to the room, trying to keep out the skip from her step. 

She could hear women wail even before she walked in. The grief in the air was almost sickening. She couldn't even begin to imagine why these women mourned him. If it wasn't for him they could be at home, surrounded by the people they love and the language they know. She went and stood quietly by one of the women who stared into the darkness with a far off look on her face. 

It took them a minute to realize her presence. When they did, sorrow shifted to caution. Whispers arose from all sides. 

Different languages, yet they implied the same thing. That she did something to him. Their tones varied in hatred and suspicion, but she stood there, simply examining her nails and occasionally smoothing her fingers over her healing forearm. 

She simply revelled in it. 

The door cracked open, and Jabari walked in, a man and a woman flanking his two sides. All of the women straightened themselves and went quiet. 

"My apologies for the delay." He said in English, a common language. His voice reverberated in the room, sending a shiver down her arms. The woman behind him translated it in Zulu, an African language. Her voice sounded much more soothing than his. 

The lights seemed to dim as his eyes glowed brighter.

 "My father, Amari," a few women sniffled, "was a man of principle. But his principles stopped with his work." He paused letting translator translate it. "He respected nothing but his job. Perhaps that is why I stand before you today." 

The women now seemed more curious than ever. "As your new leader, I have decided to free you all." 

Her heart dropped all the way down. 

No. No no no no. 

Just no. 

He can't do something like that. 

She did not work this hard only to be thrown out just as she was nearing her goal. She stood rooted her spot, staring off into the darkness. The weight of his words on her chest. The women around her were weeping and complaining. The guard thumped his gun once and the grieving group quietened. 

"You will be given a week's time. I will ensure your safe departure." She glared at him with a boiling hatred. 

Jabari Eusolo was developing into a hurdle. One she might not be able to cross over. She was truly expecting him to be as weak as his father but no. He was different. He knew what he wanted. 

And there was nothing more dangerous than a man with an ambition and a clear view of his strengths and weaknesses, that is, if he had one. If he did, he hasn't shown it. A tight lump of clay sat in her throat, refusing to move.

She'd been lost for so long that she had failed to realize that he had been staring at her. 

"You're her, aren't you?" He asked with some sort of disdain. There was no need to explain who 'her' was. There was only one person who was referred to with special emphasis. She stepped forward, away from the women and bowed her head in respect. 

"I'd like to have dinner with you tonight. I'm hoping that you will join me." He stated leaving no room for question. 

She sighed in relief and accepted. The clay in her throat was replaced with a cool rush of water. 

Maybe, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree after all.

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author's note

guys. i'm alive. I have to edit it a bit but I felt bad for y'all so here you go. tysm to anyone who's still hanging around, ily all<333