With each passing day, recollecting my past life has become difficult. Not in due part to any lapse in memory but because of disbelief. The boy who feasted on lofty dreams even while awake and the youngling soldier who remained a hopeless bystander were now aimless memories. Replaced by a man who's now fully earned the namesake his grandmother blessed him with.

"To never give in or back down. To fight courageously and powerfully always. Having a lion's heart grants you all of this. It's why I named you Asad."

Years after is when I finally earned my title. I broke my chains and forged my path through strength and courage, creating a brotherhood. Along every step, I didn't cringe or hide. I didn't make excuses or flexed power I never had. Instead, I clawed my way using sheer action and claimed my freedom after years of serving baseless superiors.

From then on, I followed my path. I went wherever wish, laid claim to any riches in view, and did whatever else I pleased, even if I had to snatch other people's rights for my success. A philosophy that gained me a place in the underworld and an item I would come to master. History may have viewed it as a tool of subjugation, but the chain whip represents the opposite. The innate elegance, overpowering reach, and dynamic speed ironically made the item feel less restricted, like an animal, free to shapeshift towards whatever shape, perfect for a wild man.

I repeated the observation as I pined the night away training in my private quarters. Arched fingers, steady legs, and swishing arms formed an almost trance-like concert, my slithering armament coiled around my body like an extension of my own body. But, like most good things, the dance couldn't last, as a prevalent knocking interrupted my last swing. I would've been annoyed any other night, but a slight smile couldn't help but vault out of me because tonight was the ultimate exception.

"You may enter, Anala," I say while trying to hold down my excitement.

As saturated light rays bounced off my sweat-covered brow, I felt like I was greeting a new dawn despite still being hours away. I knew everything my fledgling Caracal would say next, but I still decided to let her speak. Two years of perseverance have led me here. What could two seconds be? Anala awkwardly marched through, raising her hand in a far too rigid salute.

"At ease, sister. Give me the status report," I said benignly.

My command made her only freeze up like I was Medusa. But, then, a slight shift in her eye and cold sweat started breaking out as she hopelessly tried mouthing an indescribable amount of words. Something she only did when she was holding on to bad news. I sometimes forget that Anala's still a newcomer to the stakes of this life, and her former life as a cleaner is showing well.

"Take your time Anala. I'm listening."

The warmer delivery finally coaxed the truth at her as Anala swallowed the massive lump in her throat.

"Well, you see, sir,"

She then reluctantly gave me the venomous news, her every word feasting away at my smile like a mound of hungry larvae. Leaving behind a beast ready to hunt. Anger rose within my body like a volcano, ready to leave whoever was in my way choked and crushed. My lip would have to suffice as I aggressively bit down on it. I wouldn't dare rob the Caracals' of their fearless leader so quickly. Or get trapped by fear so easily.

Instead, I wordlessly donned a dark gold bomber jacket lined with mane-like fur and got to work. Not realizing how arduous the night would be. Instantly I formed a mental Rolodex of our available members. My Caracals have worn many hats these last two years, but our numbers barely scratched towards 30. Nevertheless, I knew their names and which role was the best. Feverishly I tapped away my phone while Anala followed behind frantically, following each word to the letter.

"Call up Zayn and ask him to wake up and Jasin. Then, they can round up the others while Zachiel handles the cover-up. Then, I'll talk with Xian myself."

She immediately responded, wordlessly dropping away as I decided to greet our lone survivor within minutes. Again, I'm reminded of the Caracals' greatest focus: anonymity. Like the cats, we hide away only to strike when our prey least expect it, only to vanish soon after. To our enemies and victims, the strategy is the picture that we're nothing more than savage butchers.

In reality, my brethren are kindred spirits from all walks of life who were once just as trapped as they are. Xian was the perfect example of that. He used to be a cage fighter, resigned to perform like a bloodied jester to pay the debts of his gambling parents. However, unbridled resilience, paired with my intervention, pushed him to break his fate, leading him to become one of my most loyal recruits and most ferocious fighters.

Meaning it didn't surprise me that he was conscious when I arrived. However, the hesitant expression he had silently shared with Anala was another shock on a night in which there were many. Amongst our admittedly shabby med bay, Xian quietly lamented over his bandaged ankle, avoiding my gaze from the opposing chair. Still holding back a rising rage, I urged him on passively aggressively.

"I know you're not exactly a conversationalist, Xian. But you've never held your tongue before.

So don't you dare stop on my account. Did the dealer do this?"

It wasn't out of the question. Betrayals naturally come with the territory you're dealing with devils. We all knew the risk of dealing with a man who casts a bigger shadow than any pleasantry could hide. The last time we encountered a force with this many unknowns, we had lost our old home. But to do this is unthinkable. Realizing he would lose in a war of words, Xian coldly and weakly replied.

"No, the opposite."

"Then who-?"

"That's the thing. I don't know. When the dealer opened the truck and showed us the convoy's weapons, a giant smokescreen appeared out of nowhere. Followed quickly by some black blur, We tried firing back, but the next thing I knew, I heard Marky and Rashid on the ground. Mohammad and I tried to circle them. I tried finishing the job but-."

His next words grew more stuttered, his fresh wound still burning bright. In solidarity, I placed my hand on Xian's left shoulder, hoping to give him enough support to finish his thoughts.

"They shot me. I've been in and out of consciousness ever since, but from what I understand. By the time the others arrived, my foot got patched enough to keep me stable."

The last detail broke through his chilling recollection. One doesn't keep a combatant alive in this business unless-"

They wanted to send a message.

"Do you remember anything else? Some form of marker or warning, perhaps?"

"Yeah, I was getting that. Then, before I fully went under, I remember the enemy said one last thing while handing me this," he says as he pulls out an old walkie-talkie, "They asked that only you can answer this. Anyone else, and they'll burn the entire shipment themselves," Xian said in absolute terror.

A harsh rash formed across my throat like a noose upon the sentence's end. Then again, the real thing probably would've been less damning. Instead, righteous fury clawed away at whatever kind of visage I tried maintaining. Ages-old scars burned, and sturdy bones trembled so hard that I almost thought I would come apart. However, before I turned loose, one question remained.

"You're the last person who's seen the shipment. So I must, unfortunately, trouble you and ask. Did the shipment have everything we asked for?" I said with as much conviction as a threat.

Xian's crushing disappointment decayed whatever words he had left, leaving him to only respond with a simple nod for "Yes." A simple gesture that somehow made the situation all the more grave. Months have passed since we made Dubai our temporary base. Making it home was undoubtedly easier said than done, though. Soon enough, it became evident we switched a desert for an urban jungle.

There may have been less bloodshed, but conflict remained. Reddened fangs and outstretched claws were done by men in suits instead of body armor. Shaking hands with men who hadn't seen actual combat a day of their lives nearly made me puke. Yet I grinned and bore the humiliation knowing full well when the time was right. I would be a king in an age where monarchs had long passed.

Tonight was supposed to be that time. But instead, every stray penny got spent to acquire enough ordinance to turn our small squadron into an army of the highest caliber or, even better, the ultimate bargaining tool to raise our ranks even higher. I guess our assailant, whoever they are, had the same idea after I retreated into my room to try and string together a coherent thought, even when a scarlet sea was all I could envision.

No matter the situation, first impressions mean everything. Of course, maintaining a physical edge is always vital, but once you garner a mental one, even one man could show the strength of a hundred. To calm myself, I spun my chain whip around my arm repeatedly, falling into its trance enough to calm down and answer my phantom assailant.

"Whoever you are, I'll give you this. You've earned my attention tonight. Whether that's a blessing or curse tonight depends entirely on you."

The atmosphere grew chillingly empty for about half a minute before another voice sparked through the walkie-talkie.

"Oh, I believe we both know I've earned far more than that," a feminine voice said in a contained fury.

My prideful tongue slipped out words faster than my mind could.

"If you mean my ire, then certainly. Because when I find you, I will personally."

"Do whatever the fuck I say. Lest you want your money, guns, and reputation to go up in flames."

"Hmph, I'm not imitated by some half-rate crook whose so cowardly they had to use petty tricks even to make a fight fair. I don't care if you're the boss, hired gun, or some decoy. I won't let you spend a cent of my money."

"Good, your blood money was just a means to get to you, Asad."

The statement's pure coldness finally cooled my boiling blood. The surrounding atmosphere then grew hollow and claustrophobic. All the while, the woman pierced into my astonishment.

"That's right, Asad. I know your name and how you operate. No well-acted chest puffing or guerilla warfare changes your bluff hard right now, so let me reel you back into reality. You don't have the manpower or money to ignore me this time. And I'm not looking to pick off pawns, not when my fangs can claim the foolish king now," she said temptingly.

The softening tone of that last sentence gave me everything I needed to know.

"Do you think I will cut a deal with the person who robbed me?!"

"I'm leaving this line open long enough for you to track this location where I'll be waiting with your ill-gotten gains for the next 24 hours. Whether you come with an army or yourself, it makes no difference. Because if you don't, I'll keep tearing your empire brick by brick till I rip you limb by limb. Caracal's legacy faded away, as the kittens who couldn't even defeat a single woman," she said methodically.

Each word felt calculated, stinging towards my soul like heated barbs, speaking as if she was already in the room with me. Hatred like this doesn't come from some distant foe or unknown threat. This was personal.

"Who the hell are you?" I say while gripping my whip so hard I thought it snapped.

The caller's seemingly unstoppable momentum seemed to deaden. Despite her bluster, my single sentence cut through her just as much as our entire conversation did mine. The following sentence had her voice nearly crack from its weight.

"I honestly don't know anymore. You should've killed me when you had the chance because I have much more fight left in me. And I will stop hunting you until one of us dies."

The line then cut itself short, my heartbeat nearly following suit. A good while afterward, I sat silently for god knows how long. Then, before I knew it, my eyes met the inching crawl of sunrise. Giving way to a bitter dawn that felt nothing but blighting to me now.