Part-264

  Moments ter, the door creaked open again, and in shuffled the braided-haired boy, followed by his gang. They looked worse for wear—bruised, limping, their faces a mixture of pain and shame. Rakib barely aowledged their presence as they stood awkwardly before him, eae avoiding his gaze.

  Without warning, Rakib shot up from his chair and closed the distaween himself and the boy in a few quick strides. Before anyone could react, he kicked the boy hard iomach. The boy doubled asping for breath as he stumbled backward.

  "I hought I was feeding weak dogs like you," Rakib snarled, his voice low but dripping with venom.

  The boy, still clutg his stomach, raised his head slightly and stammered, "That James guy… he was to…"

  Before the boy could finish, Rakib delivered another vicious kick, sending him sprawling to the floor. Rakib stood over him, seething, his face torted in rage.

  "One guy took all of you down? One!" Rakib’s voice cracked with anger. "Don’t you have any shame?"

  The gang remained silent, none of them daring to speak. Rakib s their pathetic dispy, his foot tapping irritably on the floor. He had expected more from these thugs, but it seemed they were er than the rest of the rabble he had under his thumb—useful only when things went smoothly, but utterly worthless when they entered real resistance.

  Sighing in frustration, Rakib turned away from the boy and paced the room, his mind rag. He o deal with this situation quickly. If wot back to his father, Yacob, about this failure, it wouldn’t reflect well on him. Yacob owerful politi, an advisor to a member of parliament, and one of the wealthiest men iy. Rakib had always lived in his father’s shadow, enjoying the luxuries that came with Yacob’s influence. But he also khat his father didn’t tolerate failure. Not from anyone. Especially not from his own son.

  Rakib grabbed his phone from the desk, dialing his father’s number with trembling fingers. The line rang twice before it was answered.

  "Rakib," Yacob’s voice came through the receiver, calm yet authoritative. "What is it?"

  "Father," Rakib started, f his voiain steady. "There’s been a problem. James—"

  "Ha," Yacob interrupted, his tone dismissive. "I don’t have time for your petty squabbles. If James boy is an issue, make sure he knows his pce. And don’t bother me with this again." With that, the li dead.

  Rakib gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around the phone. His father’s disi in his affairs was nothing new, but it still grated on his nerves. He shoved the phoo his pocket and turo the boy still lying on the floor.

  "Get out of here," Rakib growled. "And don’t show your faces arouil you’ve learned how to handle someone like James."

  The boy scrambled to his feet, his gang following close behind as they hurried out of the room, leaving Rakib aloh his thoughts.