𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒

16. Loyalty.

"Ugh I wanted to sleep more." Warren stomped his feet like a baby who was snatched off his sleep to go to school in the morning. His situation was quite similar, except the school part. 

"Just sleep when we get back. Stop hurting my damn car." Tiger snapped, his face focused ahead, one hand resting on his thigh while he used another to drive. 

Warren gave him a side eye, resting his head on the window, feeling the fresh morning air caress his face, ruffling his long hair. 

"I'm still not sure about leaving her with that bastard. He can't be trusted." He said after a pause. 

"I have warned him. That should be enough for him to stay away from her." Tiger answered, unconvinced of his own words. 

"Still, what we have find out about him is crazy as it is. I want to slit his throat so bad." Warren gritted out, his face a visible reflection of the rage and hatred he had towards the said guy. 

Tiger kept his gaze ahead, focused and unfazed, his mind drifting to Hayat and how she pleaded him to not leave her with the son of a bitch. He wondered if he made the right decision. 

 A knock disrupted the swift, precise movements of his fingers on the keypad, pulling his attention to the closed main door. His eyes considered the closed door for a moment, his senses on high alert—no one ever came unannounced this early in the morning.

It had been nearly a half a month since the attack, a night that still lingered in the corners of his mind like a shadow. The man had been moved to DK's place for further investigation when he visited, so it couldn't be DK's men at the door. Then who?

Tiger shut off the device in front of him, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. With deliberate, cautious steps, he made his way to the door, every muscle in his body coiled tight, ready for anything.

He swung the door open, expecting a threat—someone clad in black, face obscured, ready for confrontation. Instead, he was met with the infuriatingly familiar sight of Nike, standing casually with his hands buried in his jeans' pockets, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Good morning, Tiger." Nike greeted, his voice dripping with false cheer. The smile widened, and Tiger's fingers twitched, itching to raise the gun and wipe that smirk off his face permanently.

"Mind explaining what brought your disgusting existence here?" Tiger's voice was ice-cold, his raven hair falling slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head, the strands framing his sharp features. Each word was laced with barely-contained hostility.

Nike chuckled, clearly unfazed by the insult. "DK wants to see you. And Warren too." His crafty smile never faltered, but Tiger wasn't fooled. He had spent too many years in this game to be deceived by the fake innocence on Nike's face.

Those blue eyes sparkled with something dark, intentions buried deep beneath the surface, masked by that bright, insincere grin.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?" Tiger arched an eyebrow, his tone laced with skepticism.

"Call DK yourself if you don't believe me," Nike shrugged, the casual gesture only adding to Tiger's irritation.

"Fine." Tiger turned away, keeping Nike in his peripheral vision as he reached for his phone. Nick took a step forward, but Tiger's sharp command stopped him in his tracks. "Stand there. I didn't invite you in."

Nike halted, his smirk faltering for a split second before he complied, knowing better than to test Tiger's patience.

Tiger brought the phone to his ear, and the line connected with a familiar rasp—the voice of a man who had lived through enough wars to have earned every wrinkle, though his face showed none. DK's voice was as calculating as ever.