Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder. 37

Wang's Pov.

I climb onto my bike, but before starting it, I dial Zhan.

"Meet me at Dre's place," I say.

Silence. Then the call ends.

By the time I reach Dre's place, a mix of fear and excitement churns in my stomach.

"What are you doing here?" Dre hisses, eyes narrowing.

"I need you to get passports for Zhan and his family," I say.

"Why?" Dre's boyfriend asks.

"Stay out of my business," Dre snaps. Then, turning back to me, he shrugs. "I don't ask questions. It'll cost you."

I nod. "Name your price."

"Do you have anywhere in mind?" Dre asks, his voice calm but expectant.

"You pick a decent place and let me know," I reply, leaning back on the couch.

"Good." Dre smirks, walking over to the dining table where his laptop sits. He picks it up and comes back to the couch, flips it open, fingers gliding over the keyboard as he starts searching.

"Do you also need one?" he asks, not looking up.

"No, but I'll let you know when I do."

Just then, the door clicks open. Zhan steps in, his expression unreadable. Relief floods me.

I stand, closing the distance between us, and pull him into a tight hug. His body is tense at first, but then he relaxes slightly, allowing himself to be led to the couch beside me.

"Dre," I say, reaching into my pocket. I pull out a small flash drive and hold it up. "Can you show Zhan what's on this?"

Dre takes it without a word, plugging it into his laptop. The room falls silent as he clicks through the files.

Zhan leans forward, eyes glued to the screen. His breathing grows heavier with every passing second.

Then, when it's over, he hisses through clenched teeth. "That bloody bastard... He took our house."

His hands tighten into fists, his knuckles turning white. I place a hand on him, trying to steady him.

Dre exhales sharply, shutting the laptop. "I don't know why you're surprised. This isn't the first time he's done something like this."

Zhan shakes his head, his jaw locked. "I thought, I hoped he wouldn't go this far."

"Hope is a dangerous thing," Dre mutters.

I squeeze Zhan's hand. "I already took care of it."

Zhan turns to me, eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and frustration. "How? He has the documents. The house is legally his now."

"That's why you need those passports," Dre says, stretching lazily. "You're not going to get justice here. Not the kind you want."

Zhan looks away, his chest rising and falling unevenly. I know what he's thinking. Running is not in his nature. Neither is giving up.

"Listen," I say gently, tilting his chin so he's looking at me again. I explained everything to Zhan, the plan I had carried out against Black, how I handled his men and his money. I kept my voice calm, steady, but I could feel Zhan's eyes burning into me.

"Once Dre gets you a passport, you can open a bank account," I continued. "I'll send you the full worth of your house, and when we board, I'll send the remaining money back to Black."