THE HACKING HEARTS.

Our home, situated on the outskirts of the town, was nestled in a quiet, semi-remote neighborhood. While it wasn't far from the bustling town center, the roads here were typically sparse with traffic. But now, rush hour was in full swing, and the streets were alive with the chaos of the evening. Vendors lined the sidewalks, their food stalls crowded with customers.

Navigating through the busy streets, the boys kept Emily's car in sight as best as they could. At times, they lost her amidst the traffic when other cars merged into their lane, but they always managed to catch up, regaining sight of her whenever another vehicle turned off or changed lanes.

By the time they reached the other side of the town, it was already so dark, and the roads grew quieter. Emily turned off the main street and drove into a less populated, unfamiliar neighborhood. It was eerily quiet, the streets dimly lit, and the atmosphere carried a sense of foreboding.

Emily's car came to a stop in front of a building that immediately made Jerry and Mark uneasy, a casino. But not just any casino. This one was notorious throughout the whole city for its shady reputation, a hub for illegal activities like drug trafficking and underground dealings.

The boys parked their car across the street, directly opposite the casino's main entrance. They watched as Emily got out of her car and approached the entrance with purpose. The doorman greeted her like she was a regular, giving her an almost respectful nod as he let her in without hesitation.

"What is she doing here?" Jerry asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"I don't know," Mark replied, still staring at the casino's entrance. "But before she left, she mentioned something about someone being hurt."

Mark reached out for his phone, it wasn't in his pocket. " Did you carry your phone." He asked. " No I couldn't... With the rush." Jerry replied. " What?..who do you want to call." Jerry asked.

" I wanted to call Ruhi... But never mind."

"Why." Jerry insisted.

" I told you never mind." Mark backed.

"Mark I won't let this pass." Jerry said.

"Ok.. ok .." Mark gave in. " I wanted ask how she's doing, earlier own she had cramps."

Their hearts pounded as they sat in the car, trying to piece together the mystery. What was Emily getting herself into? And more importantly, what, or who, was she trying to save?

"We can't waste anymore time," Jerry said urgently, already opening the car door to get out.

"Wait, Jerry," Mark warned, catching up to his brother as they crossed the road toward the casino. "We need to be careful about how we do this."

They reached the casino's entrance, where a burly man stood guard, his eyes sharp and scrutinizing. Before they could step inside, he raised a hand to stop them.

"IDs," he demanded gruffly, extending his hand.

The brothers, fortunately, had their IDs on them. They handed them over, watching nervously as the man inspected each card, glancing back and forth between the photos and their faces.

After what felt like an eternity, he handed back their IDs with a smirk. "Sorry, boys. No entry. You're underage."

"Underage?" Jerry asked, his frustration evident.

"Minimum age is 25," the guard said flatly.

Jerry, determined to get inside, retorted, "But the woman who came in before us isn't even 25, and you let her in without checking her ID!"

The guard raised an eyebrow, his expression turning suspicious. "She's got an appointment with the boss. How do you know her? You boys know her?"

Mark quickly interjected, keeping his tone calm. "No, no, we don't. We just saw her from a distance and figured she wasn't 25. And besides, we didn't see you checking her ID."

The guard stared at them for a moment, then shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She had a reason to be here, and you two don't. Now move along."

Mark stepped forward, his voice steady. "Who's the boss?"

The guard smirked, leaning in slightly. "That's privileged information. But privileged information comes with a price."

Jerry, impatient and desperate, fished four fifty-thousand-shilling notes from his pocket and slapped them into the guard's hand.

The man grinned, pocketing the money. "His codename's Digzy. But his real name? Daniel Bigoli," he whispered.

Mark's eyes widened slightly at the name, but he quickly masked his reaction.

"Now it's time for you boys to leave," the guard said, gesturing for them to back off.

Jerry, still eager to find a way inside, continued pleading, but Mark stepped aside, lost in thought. The name Bigoli was nagging at him, stirring a memory just out of reach. Then it clicked.

"Jerry!" Mark called, motioning for his brother to join him. "Save your energy, and your money."

Jerry reluctantly stepped away from the guard, joining Mark a few feet from the entrance.

"Remember Joel Bigoli?" Mark asked, his voice low.

"Yeah," Jerry replied, frowning. "He was your high school friend. Why?"

"The boss here, Daniel Bigoli, is his father," Mark explained. "I met him a few times back then. We got along pretty well. Maybe we can use that connection to get in."

Jerry's face lit up with realization. "That might actually work!"

The two brothers returned to the entrance, much to the guard's annoyance. "I told you to leave!" he barked.

"We have one request," Mark said calmly. "Let your boss know that Mark Bendilani and his brother are here to see him."

The guard raised an eyebrow, his irritation fading as he realized this might be another opportunity to make money. "That's going to cost you," he said, grinning slyly.

Mark sighed, pulling out another two fifty-thousand-shilling notes and handing them over.

The guard pocketed the cash with a wide smile. "Stay here. Don't even think about stepping inside. I'll be right back."

As the guard disappeared into the casino, Jerry groaned. "I can't believe we just spent three hundred thousand on that guy."

Mark smirked slightly, leaning against the wall. "Think of it as an investment. If it gets us closer to Emily, it's worth every shilling."

Jerry shook his head, muttering under his breath, but deep down, he knew his brother was right. Now all they could do was wait, and hope the connection to Joel's father would open the door to answers.

"Where is my money?" the man demanded, his voice calm but laced with menace. He sat across the table, his dark complexion illuminated by the dim, flickering overhead light. It was Digzy, a man in his early fifties, bald, with a thick, graying beard that only added to his intimidating aura. Across from him, Emily sat trembling, her tear-streaked face pale, her hands clutching the edge of the table as though it were her only anchor.

"Please, don't hurt her," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Digzy leaned back in his chair, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry," he said, his tone mockingly soothing. "Your mother will remain unharmed… for now. But that depends entirely on you paying what you owe me."

Emily's voice quivered as she replied, "I... I can only clear 10 million shillings at the moment. Please, I just need more time. I'll find the rest of the money, I swear."

"More time?" Digzy's laugh erupted, cold and hollow, sending a shiver down Emily's spine. He leaned forward suddenly, his fists slamming on the table. "I gave you a whole year! A year! And all you can scrape together is 10 million shillings? Do you think this is a joke? What do you want—ten more years to pay me the remaining 50 million?"

Emily lowered her head, silent. She had no energy left to argue. Her tears had drained her, and she knew there were no words that could change her fate. The room fell into a suffocating silence, broken only by a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in," Digzy barked, his gaze still fixed on Emily.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped in, leaning close to whisper something in Digzy's ear. Emily strained to catch even a hint of the conversation, but the voices were too low.

"Why are they here?" Digzy asked, his brow furrowing.

The man shrugged. "Not sure, boss."

Digzy waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, let them in."

Emily's heart raced. She had no idea who "they" were or what this interruption could mean, but the unease in her chest only grew.