The night air was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and street food from a distant vendor. Elijha walked down the narrow alley, hands tucked into his pockets, his mind spinning with thoughts he couldn't silence. The weight of his family's struggles pressed down on him like a boulder, suffocating him.
Survival wasn't enough anymore. He wanted more. He needed more.
As he reached the market square, now nearly empty, he spotted a few men gathered in a dimly lit corner. Their voices were low, but their laughter carried in the silence. Their clothes were expensive, their watches gleaming even in the poor light. They weren't ordinary men.
They were powerful.
Elijha had seen them before—the men who moved in the shadows, who controlled things from behind the scenes. They weren't bound by the struggles of common people. Instead, they created the rules and broke them as they pleased.
For a long time, Elijha had ignored their world. But tonight, something in him cracked.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer.
One of the men, tall and broad-shouldered, glanced his way. His sharp eyes flickered with curiosity before narrowing in suspicion. "What do you want, kid?"
Elijha held his ground. "Work."
The group exchanged glances before laughing. "You think you can handle our kind of work?" another man smirked. "Go home, boy."
Elijha didn't flinch. "I don't have a home worth going back to." His voice was steady, determined.
The broad-shouldered man's smirk faded slightly. He studied Elijha, as if weighing his worth. "What's your name?"
"Elijha."
The man leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed. "Listen, Elijha. This isn't your average job. If you take a step in, there's no stepping out. You sure you want this?"
Elijha's jaw tightened. He thought of his mother, bent over her stitching. He thought of Ria, studying under a flickering candle, dreaming of a future they couldn't afford.
This wasn't just about him anymore.
"I'm sure," he said.
The man nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, kid. Let's see what you're made of."
The group stepped away from the alley and into a black car parked by the side of the road. One of the men opened the door, motioning for Elijha to get in. He hesitated for only a second before climbing inside. The door shut behind him with a finality that sent a shiver down his spine.
Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke. The broad-shouldered man sat beside him, while the others settled into their seats.
"What can you do?" the man asked, watching Elijha closely.
Elijha met his gaze. "I learn fast."
The man smirked. "That's not an answer."
Another man, thinner with sharp eyes, chuckled. "Boss, he's just a street kid looking for a way out. Let's not waste our time."
Elijha clenched his fists. "Give me a chance," he said, his voice firm. "You won't regret it."
Silence stretched between them before the broad-shouldered man finally spoke. "Fine. There's a job tonight. You're coming with us. Prove yourself, and we'll talk."
Elijha nodded. He didn't ask what the job was. He didn't need to.
As the car rolled forward into the night, he knew one thing for certain—this was the beginning of something he couldn't walk away from.
---