Steve's POV
The old warehouse used to be a textile plant.
Now, it was a graveyard dressed in neon and iron.
The inside was colder than I remembered. Not temperature. Just… energy. Like the walls remembered every secret whispered inside them.
And tonight, they would remember ours.
"The Council's already inside," Korede warned over comms. "Koleosho's daughter is seated too."
Perfect.
That meant he was serious.
He wanted to put on a show.
Mafia tradition. When you're about to gut a man, you give him a chair at the table first.
And the worst part?
You let him speak.
Jomiloju's POV
The door opened with a groan that sounded like something dying.
There were seven men seated around the table.
Six wore suits.
One wore blood-red agbada—the only splash of color in the room.
That was him.
Koleosho.
He didn't even look at me first.
He looked at Steve.
"Ah. The bastard prince returns."
Steve didn't blink.
"And the rose I plucked," Koleosho said, finally letting his eyes land on me. "I hear you've bloomed into something wild."
I met his stare and didn't look away.
"Careful," I said. "Wild things bite."
He smiled.
"Good. I like my roses with thorns."
Steve's POV
He motioned for us to sit.
Two seats. Side by side. Like we were part of his circus.
I didn't sit.
Neither did Jomi.
Koleosho leaned back and sighed, mock disappointment in his voice.
"I gave you a gift, Steve. An opportunity. The Dorotoye girl was supposed to be your redemption."
"She is," I said.
"Then why," he hissed, "are you still fighting me?"
"Because you mistook obedience for loyalty," I answered. "I was never yours."
He stood slowly, clapping.
"You always had fire. But fire needs oxygen. And I'm the one who controls the air in this city."
His men laughed.
But one of the council members didn't.
He looked… nervous.
Good.
Fear was the first crack in any empire.
Jomiloju's POV
Koleosho circled the room like a wolf around prey.
"This meeting isn't just about sentiment," he said. "It's about consequences. Steve defied orders. Slept with the hostage. Killed two of my men."
He turned to the council.
"Traditionally, that's grounds for execution."
Murmurs.
Some agreed.
Some didn't.
And then Koleosho did something I didn't expect.
He snapped his fingers.
And my mother was brought into the room.
Alive.
But frail. Bruised.
"NO!" I surged forward, but Steve caught my wrist.
She wasn't bound. But the unspoken threat was clear.
Koleosho raised one brow. "Still think this girl is worth dying for?"
Steve's answer was a whisper.
"I'm not dying for her."
Pause.
"I'm killing for her."
Steve's POV
I drew my gun.
Faster than anyone expected.
The first shot hit the man to Koleosho's left—one of the council, a snake named Hassan who'd sold women across borders.
Panic erupted.
Jomi pulled her mother behind a crate. Korede's tech blew the warehouse fuse from the outside.
Darkness.
Screams.
Fire.
I moved through the shadows like I was born in them. This was my arena. My world.
They raised me in blood.
Now they would drown in it.
One.
By.
One.
Jomiloju's POV
The moment the lights died, everything became instinct.
I pulled my mother to the floor, whispered for her to stay down, then grabbed the backup gun Steve had given me earlier.
Shots lit the room like a twisted thunderstorm.
Steve was out there.
Alone.
But not for long.
I crawled across the broken tiles, reached the other end, and spotted one of Koleosho's guards creeping toward him with a machete.
I didn't think.
Bang.
The man dropped.
Steve turned toward the sound—eyes meeting mine in the dark.
A flash of pain. Then pride.
"Good girl," he mouthed.
Steve's POV
The council scattered like roaches in the chaos.
Cowards in silk ties.
I took down two more before Koleosho finally showed his fangs.
He fired twice—one grazed my shoulder, the other shattered a mirror behind me.
Then he grabbed Jomi's mother again, yanking her to his chest.
"Enough!" he screamed. "Or I blow her brains out!"
Jomi froze.
I didn't.
I stepped forward, bloody and limping, but steady.
"You think that woman matters to me?" I lied.
He laughed.
"You're bluffing."
"I let her live once. Don't test me again."
For a second, he hesitated.
Then Jomi stood.
Gun raised.
Voice shaking—but clear.
"She's not the one you should be afraid of."
And she shot him.
Jomiloju's POV
The bullet hit his leg.
He screamed. Dropped my mother. Crashed into a pillar with a roar.
I ran to her. Pulled her away.
Steve walked forward—slow, deliberate—and stood over Koleosho's broken form.
For a moment, I thought he'd finish it.
But he didn't.
He raised the gun to Koleosho's face.
Then lowered it.
"No," he said. "Death's too soft for you."
He turned to the council members who had survived.
"You're going to watch him rot in a cell. And then you're going to burn every inch of this system you helped build. Or I come for you next."
None of them argued.
Smart men.
Scared men.
Defeated men.
Steve's POV
We didn't stay for the cleanup.
Korede's people would erase the footage. The priest would smuggle Jomi's mother out of the city.
Me?
I had nothing left to prove.
Except one thing.
I turned to Jomi as the sun broke through the warehouse skylight—rays bleeding into a room that had only ever known darkness.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She nodded, still trembling.
I reached out—brushed the blood from her cheek.
"You didn't just survive tonight," I whispered. "You owned it."
Jomiloju's POV
He smiled at me then.
Not the smirk.
Not the mask.
But a real smile.
The kind that said maybe, just maybe, we could build something from this wreckage.
The kind that said tomorrow existed.
And it belonged to us.