Hard Hit.

Mark was still staring at Otim, his mind racing with questions and anger, when he heard the faintest sound behind him—a boot scuffing against the concrete floor. He turned, but it was too late.

A sharp blow to the back of his head sent him crumpling to the ground, his vision blurring as darkness crept in. The last thing he saw was the shadowy figure of a man standing over him, a gun in hand.

---

When Mark came to, his head throbbing and his vision swimming, he realized he was no longer in the warehouse. He was slumped in the driver's seat of his own car, his hands tied loosely with a zip tie. The engine was running, and the car was moving, but he wasn't the one driving.

Dr. Otim was behind the wheel, his expression calm but focused as he navigated the dark, empty streets. In the backseat, one of the men who had ambushed Mark sat silently, his eyes scanning the road behind them.

Mark groaned, trying to sit up, but the pain in his head made him wince. "What… what's going on?" he mumbled, his voice slurred.

Otim glanced at him briefly, his tone calm but firm. "Stay still, Mark. You took a nasty hit."

Mark's eyes narrowed as the memories came flooding back—the warehouse, Otim's confession, the ambush. He struggled against the zip ties, his voice rising. "What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

Otim sighed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I'm taking you somewhere safe. You're in no condition to be driving, and we can't stay where we were."

Mark's anger flared, his voice sharp. "Safe? Do you think I'm going to believe that? After what you've done?"

Otim's expression darkened, but he kept his eyes on the road. "Mark, you don't understand. Those men back there—they wanted to kill you. I stopped them."

Mark froze, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion. "Why? Why would you stop them? You're the one who—"

"Because you're just a kid," Otim interrupted his voice firm but not unkind. "A kid who's grieving for his mother. I may have made mistakes, but I'm not a monster. I won't let anyone else die on my watch."

Mark stared at him, his mind racing. He didn't want to believe him, didn't want to trust him, but there was something in Otim's tone—something genuine—that made him hesitate.

In the backseat, the man who had been silent until now spoke up, his voice low and urgent. "Doc, we need to figure out how he hacked your phone and if anyone else is working with him. If they're onto us, we're all in danger."

Otim nodded, his expression grim. "I know. Take the others and find out who else is behind it. I'll handle Mark."

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking to Mark. "You sure about this? He's a liability."

"He's not a liability," Otim said firmly. "He's a victim. And I'm not going to let anyone else get hurt because of this mess."

The man nodded reluctantly, then opened the car door as Otim pulled over to the side of the road. "Be careful, Doc," he said before stepping out and disappearing into the night.

Once they were alone, Otim turned to Mark, his expression softening. "Listen to me, Mark. I know you don't trust me, and I don't blame you. But you need to understand—this is bigger than you, bigger than me. If you want to survive, you need to stay out of this."

Mark shook his head, his voice trembling with anger. "Stay out of it? My mother is dead because of you! Because of whatever this is! You think I'm just going to walk away?"

Otim's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more. But instead, he just sighed and turned back to the wheel. "I'm taking you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can lay low until this blows over."

Mark's eyes narrowed. "Where?"

Otim didn't answer right away. He kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, "A safe house. Somewhere they won't think to look for you."

Mark wanted to argue, and demand answers, but the pain in his head and the exhaustion in his body made it impossible. He slumped back in the seat, his mind racing as Otim drove him to the unknown location.

After what felt like hours, Otim pulled into a secluded area, the car's headlights illuminating a small, nondescript house surrounded by trees. It was isolated, quiet, and eerily still.

Otim parked the car and turned to Mark, his tone serious. "This is it. You'll stay here until I figure out what to do next. There's food, water, and everything you need inside. Just… stay put, okay?"

Mark glared at him, his voice sharp. "And what if I don't?"

Otim's expression hardened. "Then you'll get yourself killed. And I didn't go through all this trouble just to watch that happen."