Mark’s Decision.

"Why do you even need it? You know it's illegal." Amos' anxious voice crackled through the phone, his tone laced with concern.

"Will you get it for me or not?" Mark asked, his voice firm and unyielding.

There was a long pause on the other end, followed by a resigned sigh. "Alright," Amos finally said. "When do you want it?"

"As soon as possible," Mark replied without hesitation.

He ended the call and sat on the edge of his bed, his mind racing. Something wild and dangerous was brewing in his thoughts—something he couldn't share with anyone, not even Anushka. He had decided to take matters into his own hands. He couldn't wait any longer. He needed to confront Dr. Otim and uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

But Mark knew it wouldn't be an easy confrontation. He needed an edge, something to level the playing field. That's why he'd called Amos. He needed a gun.

"I'm sorry for betraying you, Ruhi," Mark whispered to himself, his voice heavy with guilt. But he couldn't bear the thought of putting another life in danger. He'd already lost his mom. He wouldn't risk losing anyone else.

It was five in the morning, an unusual time for Mark to be awake. But he had a plan, and he needed to move quickly before anyone noticed. After a cold shower to shake off the lingering fatigue, he dressed in dark, nondescript clothes and grabbed his car keys. Without a second thought, he slipped out of the house and into the cool morning air, his car roaring to life as he sped off into the dimly lit streets.

---

Mark's car came to a stop outside a sprawling residential villa on the outskirts of town. This was where Amos lived—a luxurious estate owned by his father, a renowned military general who had climbed the ranks through his unwavering loyalty to the government. Mark wasn't a regular visitor, but he was well-known enough to be let in without question.

A middle-aged man, one of the villa's security guards, opened the gate as Mark approached. "Marky," the man said, his tone friendly but curious. "What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"Just some important business with Amos," Mark replied, his voice calm but firm.

The guard nodded, stepping aside to let him through. "Ah, I see. Well, good seeing you. Don't be a stranger."

Mark gave a small nod of acknowledgment before driving through the gates and parking near the main entrance. He stepped out of the car, his eyes scanning the quiet estate. The early morning light cast long shadows across the manicured lawns, and the air was crisp and still.

---

Mark made his way through the villa's grand foyer, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. He knew the layout well enough to find Amos' room without needing directions. When he reached the door, he knocked lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else in the house.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing Amos in a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked like he hadn't slept much, and his expression was a mix of concern and frustration.

"Mark," Amos said, stepping aside to let him in. "You're really going through with this, huh?"

Mark didn't answer right away. He stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the space before landing on Amos. "I don't have a choice."

Amos sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "You always have a choice, man. But fine. I'll help you. Just… tell me why you need a gun. What's going on?"

Mark hesitated, his jaw tightening. He couldn't tell Amos the full story—not without dragging him into the mess. "It's complicated," he said finally. "I just need it, okay?"

Amos studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shook his head and walked over to his closet, pulling out a sleek black briefcase. "This is all I could manage to get from my dad without him noticing," he said, setting the briefcase on the bed and flipping it open.

Inside were two Smith & Wesson pistols, their polished surfaces gleaming under the soft light of the room. Mark's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Amos closed the briefcase and handed it to Mark, his tone serious. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid with these. I'm already risking a lot by giving them to you."

Mark took the briefcase, his grip firm. "I promise," he said, though the weight of the lie hung heavy in the air.

Amos didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it. "Just… be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

Mark nodded, his expression grim. "I will. Thanks, Amos."

As Mark turned to leave, Amos hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Hey, Mark… before you go, can I ask you something?"

Mark paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What is it?"

Amos shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence faltering. "How's Monica? I haven't seen her in a while."

Mark raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Monica? She's fine. Still obsessing."

Amos shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. "Not reason. Just… wondering. She's been on my mind lately."

Mark's smirk widened. "Uh-huh. Sure. Just wondering."

Amos groaned, running a hand over his face. "Alright, fine. You know I like her, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "Took you long enough to admit it. But yeah, she's good. Still the same Monica—strong, stubborn, and way too good for you."

Amos laughed, though there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Yeah, I know. But a guy can dream, right?"

Mark's expression softened, and he gave Amos a small nod. "For what it's worth, but you know you can't have her, though I think you'd be good for her. Just… don't mess it up incase a chance comes up."

Amos grinned, his confidence returning. "I won't. Thanks, Mark."

Mark nodded again, then turned and left the room, the briefcase clutched tightly in his hand. As he made his way back to his car, his mind was already racing with plans. He didn't know what he was walking into, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn't going to back down.