The ambush

Wyatt Felix Lim, the embattled leader of the Cojuangco mafia organization, sat in the back of his armored vehicle, his mind racing with thoughts of the recent chaos. The death of Auto Dane Lim and the brutal defeat of Julius "Pitbull" Carter had sent shockwaves through the criminal world. Now, more than ever, Wyatt felt the weight of the empire on his shoulders. He needed to regroup, to assert control, and heading to the Cojuangco headquarters was the first step.

As his convoy of black SUVs sped through the dark streets, Wyatt gazed out the window, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across his face. He was tense, his gut warning him that something was off, but he dismissed it. The Cojuangco name still commanded fear, and he believed no one would dare strike so boldly.

Suddenly, the lead SUV exploded in a fiery blast, the shockwave rattling Wyatt's vehicle and forcing it to swerve violently. The convoy skidded to a halt, tires screeching, as armed men emerged from the shadows, their guns blazing. It was an ambush.

"Sir, get down!" his bodyguard shouted, pulling Wyatt to the floor as bullets shattered the windows. The men outside opened fire with ruthless precision, taking out Wyatt's guards one by one.

Wyatt's heart pounded as he reached for his gun, the sounds of gunfire and screams filling the air. He crawled towards the vehicle's door, determined to escape the death trap. Outside, his men fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered and outgunned. The assailants, clad in black with faces hidden behind masks, showed no mercy.

Wyatt pushed open the door and rolled onto the pavement, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets. He crawled to a nearby ditch, using the darkness as cover. He could hear the last of his men falling, their cries cut short by the relentless attackers.

As he attempted to crawl away, a sharp pain shot through his left arm. Wyatt looked down, horror washing over him as he realized his hand was gone, severed by a precise strike. Blood poured from the wound, staining the ground beneath him. He bit down a scream, his survival instincts kicking in.

In the distance, the attackers began to retreat, their mission seemingly complete. Wyatt could hear their leader giving orders, their voices fading into the night. They left no survivors – except for him.

With a final surge of strength, Wyatt managed to pull himself up against a tree, clutching his bleeding stump. His vision blurred, but he fought to stay conscious. He knew he had to survive, to return and reclaim what was his.

Hours later, rescue teams, alerted by the explosion, found him barely alive. Wyatt, now missing a hand and all his men, was rushed to a clandestine medical facility under the Cojuangco organization's control. As he faded in and out of consciousness, one thought burned in his mind: "revenge"