A Game That Destroys ✓

2- The Challenge

Author's Note: Oh you lovely people! Giving me 200+ reads... Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. For those of you who are silent readers, please do vote. And those who aren't so silent, I'd love to hear your thoughts on my writing. Thank you again!

Picture is of Emily Rudd who will be playing Myeesha. Here's the next chapter so do enjoy, vote and share your thoughts!

Chapter 2- The Challenge

The first bullet grazed the ground, just between his feet. It was silent, chipping the road as a hush fell over the group. And that's when things went horribly wrong.

Za'yaal wasn't wearing his vest but he did have his gun. He yanked it out as the second bullet pierced through Tyron's arm. The personal guard hissed and fired a shot. Za'yaal knew who had opened fire. And he was beyond pissed.

The guards tried to protect him while shooting rapidly at the enemy. Za'yaal ducked and slid across the road on his knees, slamming against the side of a Prado. His skinned knees burned but at least he was safe.

Crash!

Glass flew everywhere, a large shard slicing his cheek.

Or not.

He heard his guards cursing and Tyron shouting orders for backup. A small beep and a red light flashed before the area burst into a haze. Smoke. Tear gas. His eyes watered and he coughed. Fuck.

"Boss! Sir, where are you?" Tyron's voice crackled on his Bluetooth.

"Silver Prado. 768. What the hell is going on?"

"Gryder guards. Don't worry, sir. I got this. Stay down."

"Don't give me orders!" He sneered, shooting at an unsuspecting masked man. Blood pooled out of his wound and he fell.

"Sorry, boss. Just trying to save your life."

Za'yaal rolled his eyes. "Handle this mess. I'm getting out."

"No! You have to stay, sir!"

"Learn to do as your told," Za'yaal growled and yanked off the Bluetooth before crushing it under his foot. He didn't need to send out unnecessary signals. Those bastards had probably found him through them in the first place.

He gripped his gun and stood up, running his gaze over the fog. He couldn't see much, a few bodies on the ground, a figure moving away . . . one of his men. He watched as a masked man tried lifted his gun to shoot at the guard. Za'yaal glared. One quiet shot and he was down.

A shiver ran down his spine when he realized he wasn't alone. He whirled just as a hand reached out and clamped over his mouth. Za'yaal didn't waste a single second. He grasped the hand, turned and twisted, the crunching of bones audible in the silence.

"Goddamn!"

He ran.

"Get the hell back here!"

Reeeeal funny, man. No.

And then he felt it.

Za'yaal smashed his teeth on his lips to stop from crying out. The bullet seared through his side, a flesh wound perhaps, and sailed past. He collapsed on the ground, clutching his torso.

"Shit!" He hissed, hot red liquid dripping through his fingers.

Before he could even grab his second gun and shoot out a flare for help, he was being grabbed again. Za'yaal tried to kick the person but lost his balance due to the numbness in half his body and fell face-first on the ground.