The night was thick — heavy with silence. But inside Daniel's fortress, there was no peace. There hadn't been for weeks.
He sat at his desk, a half-empty glass of wine trembling in his hand. The once-golden king, feared across continents, now looked like a man haunted by death itself.
His empire was still standing, but the foundation was rotting beneath him. Every time he took a step, the ground cracked a little more — and the cracks weren't random.
They were designed.
Daniel's closest men stood before him — not with confidence, but with fear.
They had served him for years — built his kingdom with blood and bone.
But now?
They were all suspects.
Daniel paced slowly, his footsteps echoing through the room. His eyes — bloodshot, unblinking — scanned each face, looking for the invisible knife in their hands.
"Who?" His voice was low, hoarse. "Who is feeding them? Who is betraying me?"
No one spoke.
He slammed his glass against the floor, the shatter echoing like a gunshot.
"I said WHO?!"
Still silence.
The silence itself felt like a hand around his throat.
Daniel's paranoia needed blood.
One by one, he pulled in his most trusted men — men who had killed for him, bled for him, built his empire brick by brick.
And one by one, they died.
Some were shot in the head — execution-style, no hesitation.
Others were sent to dark rooms — tortured until they confessed to crimes they never committed, just to make the pain stop.
The confessions were meaningless.
Daniel didn't need the truth — he needed someone to blame.
Far away, in a hidden command room, Faisal stood beside Rayyan, Malik, and Ameer.
The screen before them showed Daniel's fortress — every camera hacked, every conversation tapped. They weren't guessing what Daniel would do next — they were writing the script.
Rayyan smirked. "He's killing his own army for us."
Malik's fists clenched. "Not enough blood yet."
Ameer's fingers danced across the keyboard, feeding Daniel's network with just enough fake intel to keep the paranoia alive.
Faisal didn't smile. He didn't speak.
He just watched.
This wasn't about revenge anymore.
This was art.
Daniel no longer trusted the phone — every call could be a trap.
He no longer trusted his guards — every gun could turn on him.
He didn't even trust the mirror — because sometimes, he saw faces that weren't his own.
Faces from his past.
Men he'd betrayed. Women he'd silenced. Partners he'd burned.
Sometimes their faces flickered in the glass, just for a second.
He started to wonder — were they really ghosts, or just the cracks in his mind?
One night, Daniel woke up sweating, the gun already in his hand before his eyes were even open.
The room was dark — but he wasn't alone.
He couldn't see anyone — but he felt it.
A presence — cold, suffocating, crawling against his skin.
Then, a whisper.
Soft. Almost gentle.
"Soon."
Daniel's heart stopped. He spun, firing blindly into the darkness, the gunshots ringing like screams.
There was no one.
Only silence.
And his own fear, sitting beside him like a ghost no bullet could kill.
Daniel stormed into his control room, demanding updates from his remaining loyalists.
"Who is it?!" he screamed.
"Who is behind this?! Is it the Russians? The Chinese? The Americans?! Tell me WHO!"
But every lead they chased ended in silence. Every connection frayed into nothing.
There was no enemy to find.
Because the enemy was already inside.
Every phone call Daniel made — Ameer heard.
Every order Daniel gave — Rayyan rewrote.
Every shipment Daniel secured — Malik already intercepted.
And every scream Daniel shouted — Faisal heard… and smiled.
Daniel sat alone at the head of his empty table — no wine, no guards, no sound.
His hands trembled. His breath shallow.
For the first time in his life, Daniel — the King of Kings — was afraid.
Not of bullets. Not of knives.
Of ghosts.
Ghosts with no faces.
Ghosts with no names.
Ghosts that didn't speak.
But one thing Daniel knew — they were coming.
And when they arrived, there would be no warning. No mercy.
Only silence.
The silence before a king falls.
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End of Chapter 37 - When Kings Fear Ghosts