The trouble didn't arrive loudly.
It didn't come with sirens or shouting or a sudden collapse of everything Leo had built. If it had, he might have known how to respond. Noise was familiar. Chaos was something he could work through.
This came quietly.
It came as absence.
The first sign was a supplier who didn't return his call.
Leo waited until evening before trying again, pacing the workshop while Musa locked up. The phone rang longer than usual before cutting off.
"Maybe network," Musa offered.
"Maybe," Leo said, though his chest felt tight.
The second sign came the next morning. A delivery that was supposed to arrive by nine didn't. At ten, Leo called the dispatcher. At eleven, he drove to the depot himself.
They wouldn't let him past the gate.
"You're not on today's list," the guard said politely.
"I've been on your list for five years," Leo replied.
The guard shrugged. "Instructions changed."
Leo felt the words settle somewhere cold.
Instructions.
He didn't argue. He didn't raise his voice. He just nodded and walked back to his car, hands steady even as something inside him shifted.
By noon, three customers had cancelled appointments.
By evening, a rumor reached him through Musa — soft, half-formed, dangerous.
"They say you're… connected," Musa said carefully. "That people should be cautious."
Leo leaned against the workbench, exhaustion pressing down on him. "Connected to who?"
Musa hesitated. "That's the problem. Nobody knows."
Leo let out a breath that felt like defeat.
When people didn't know who owned you, they assumed the worst.
The message came just after sunset.
You're feeling it now, aren't you?
Leo stared at the phone.
He didn't bother pretending this time.
Yes.
The reply took longer than usual.
Good. It means you're paying attention.
Leo closed his eyes.
Did you do this? he typed.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
I didn't stop it.
Leo's fingers tightened around the phone.
I thought the deal was protection.
The response was immediate.
The deal is leverage. Protection is conditional.
Leo laughed quietly, the sound hollow in the empty workshop.
And what do you want now?
There was a pause — deliberate, measured.
Loyalty.
The word felt heavier than any threat.
They met that night.
Not in an office. Not in a restaurant.
In a quiet lounge tucked behind a hotel most people passed without noticing.
Mr. Kola was already seated when Leo arrived, nursing a drink that looked untouched.
"You look tired," he observed.
"I am," Leo said, sliding into the chair opposite him. "You're choking my business."
Mr. Kola smiled faintly. "No. I'm reminding it who breathes for it."
Leo leaned forward. "You said I'd survive."
"And you will," Mr. Kola replied calmly. "But survival isn't comfort. It's balance."
"Balance for who?" Leo snapped.
Mr. Kola's gaze sharpened. "For us."
Silence stretched.
"You're being tested," Mr. Kola continued. "Every man is, once he enters this level. The question isn't whether pressure comes. It's whether you crack quietly or make noise."
Leo's jaw clenched. "And if I decide I'm done?"
Mr. Kola studied him carefully. "Then the pressure becomes honest."
Leo swallowed. "You're punishing me."
"I'm educating you," Mr. Kola corrected. "Power doesn't tolerate ambiguity. Either you belong to the system, or the system treats you as an obstacle."
Leo leaned back, suddenly tired of holding himself upright.
"What do you need me to do?" he asked.
Mr. Kola's smile returned, slow and measured.
"There's a vehicle," he said. "Government fleet. It's scheduled for inspection tomorrow. I need it… delayed."
Leo's stomach dropped.
"Delayed how?"
"Nothing dramatic," Mr. Kola said lightly. "Just enough to miss a meeting."
"That's not a repair," Leo said. "That's interference."
Mr. Kola's eyes held his. "That's loyalty."
The word echoed again.
Leo thought of the device he'd removed days earlier. Thought of how easily his hands had moved. How quickly silence had become habit.
"And if I refuse?" Leo asked.
Mr. Kola's voice remained calm. "Then the suppliers stay gone. The rumors grow. The inspection you survived last week becomes less friendly next time."
Leo nodded slowly.
No neutral ground.
"I'll do it," he said.
Mr. Kola stood. "I knew you would."
As he walked away, he paused. "You should understand something, Leo. You're not being forced. You're being chosen."
The word tasted bitter now.
The inspection day passed in a blur.
Leo did exactly what was asked — nothing obvious, nothing traceable. Just a delay disguised as caution. By the time the issue was resolved, the meeting had been missed.
News of it reached him that evening through whispers.
A reshuffling. A postponed decision. Someone angry.
His phone buzzed.
Well done.
Leo didn't reply.
He sat alone in the workshop long after everyone left, staring at his hands.
They looked the same.
But they didn't feel like his anymore.
Sophia came by unexpectedly that night.
She stood at the entrance, uncertainty written across her face.
"I wasn't sure you'd want to see me," she said.
Leo wiped his hands slowly. "I don't know what I want anymore."
She stepped inside, eyes scanning the space like she was seeing it for the first time.
"You've changed," she said softly.
"So have you."
She nodded. "That's why I'm here."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"I hear things," Sophia said. "About who you work with now. About what that means."
Leo met her gaze. "Do you believe them?"
She hesitated. "I don't know what to believe."
"That makes two of us."
Sophia took a breath. "I just wanted to say… be careful. The world you're stepping into doesn't forgive easily."
Leo looked away. "Neither does the one I came from."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"I hope you find your way," she said.
After she left, the workshop felt emptier than before.
Later that night, Leo stood outside, watching the streetlights flicker.
He thought about dignity. About choice. About how easily lines blurred when survival was on the table.
His phone buzzed one last time.
You're learning.
Leo typed slowly.
I don't know how much of me will be left when I'm done learning.
The reply came after a pause.
Enough. If you're smart.
Leo locked the phone and slipped it into his pocket.
No neutral ground.
Only movement forward — or collapse.
And for the first time since signing, Leo wondered not whether he could survive this world…
…but whether he wanted to.
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There is no neutral ground now.
Only choices — and their cost.