The Syndicate

Chapter Twenty

  In the dimly lit confines of Allen Carson's mansion, the air was heavy with tension and the lingering scent of betrayal. JK lay on the cold floor, his breaths shallow and labored. The knife wound inflicted by Rosy was bleeding profusely, each pulse of pain a stark reminder of her treachery.

  Above him, Rosy stood, her expression cold and detached, her eyes reflecting none of the warmth or affection he had once seen in them.

"Rosy? Why?... Anderson, who is he?" JK's voice was a mere whisper, weak but laced with a bewildered plea for understanding.

Rosy's eyes met his, devoid of the tenderness that had once defined their gaze.

"He's my husband," she said, the words slicing through the air like a blade.

  A chilling silence fell over the room as JK processed her confession. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the foundations of his reality crumbling around him.

"Your husband?" he repeated, barely able to believe the truth now laid bare before him.

  Anderson, who had watched the unfolding drama with a sadistic smile, took a step closer to Rosy, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Allen is dead," he announced, his voice filled with grim satisfaction. "We orchestrated everything. Rosy and I. It was always about taking control of the Syndicate."

  The air grew thick with tension as Rosy continued, her true intentions glaringly apparent. "I want to rule this damn Syndicate, JK. Everything was part of the plan. Tricking you was necessary to get what I wanted, like I tricked Allen!" she said, her voice dripping with a blend of regret and resolve.

"Now, it's our Syndicate."

  JK's mind reeled as he struggled to comprehend the full scope of her deception. The man in charge, whom he had believed to be an ally, lay dead somewhere within the mansion, his life snuffed out as part of their grand design.

  The boy, whom Rosy had claimed was her brother, was actually her son, and the old man her father-in-law. Every element of their story, every plea for help, had been meticulously crafted to manipulate him.

"Why, Rosy?" JK's voice broke, a mixture of heartbreak and anger. "Why would you do this?"

  Rosy's face softened for just a moment, a flicker of the woman he had once known peeking through the hardened facade.

"Survival," she said simply.

"In this world, you either control or you're controlled. I chose to control."

  Anderson's laughter filled the room, a harsh and mocking sound that grated against JK's raw nerves.

"You see, JK, we needed you to trust Rosy, to believe in her. It made you easier to manipulate. Now, we have everything we need."

  Rosy knelt beside JK, her expression shifting to one of calculated pity. "I did everything on a purpose. I made Allen to take me to his mansion. Manipulating you was not in my plan. But I felt that you might be a threat when you beat Allen. So I included you in my plan. I was asked to be a woman...your woman actually. You loved me right, JK?"

"Did he?", Anderson's voice echoed.

JK refused from her touch, the pain of betrayal too fresh, too deep. "How can you be so cruel?" he spat, his anger flaring even as his strength waned.

"You used me, Rosy. You lied to me. Everything was a lie."

"I had no choice," Rosy insisted,

  The room was dimly lit, the flickering candle casting long shadows that danced across the walls. JK lay on the cold, hard floor, blood pooling around him from the deep wound Rosy had inflicted.