Jomiloju's POV
The city had never felt more alive — or more dangerous.
Every street corner hid a secret. Every whisper carried a threat.
I moved through Lagos with a new kind of awareness. The safehouse felt less like a refuge and more like a cage.
Steve was tense. I could see it in the way he checked the locks, scanned every sound.
The message—the black rose—had changed everything.
We were marked.
Steve's POV
I knew the moment we left the safehouse, eyes would be on us.
Koleosho's men wouldn't give up.
And whatever new player had sent the rose wasn't playing by any rules I recognized.
I kept my hand near my gun, senses sharpened.
Every step, every breath could be our last.
Jomiloju's POV
We had to move.
A contact Dourochy trusted had a safehouse on the outskirts — a place off the grid.
We packed light, everything we owned stuffed into two worn bags.
As we slipped into the night, a tension buzzed between us.
Unspoken fears, questions hanging in the air.
Steve's POV
The ride was silent except for the low hum of the engine.
I watched Jomi out of the corner of my eye — fierce, brave, but fragile all the same.
"We're getting closer to the eye of the storm," I said quietly.
She nodded.
"I'm ready."
Jomiloju's POV
The safehouse was small but secure.
Dourochy's friend, a wiry man named Tunde, greeted us with wary eyes.
"We don't get many visitors," he muttered.
I felt the weight of every gaze, every suspicion.
This world was foreign — but it was becoming my reality.
Steve's POV
We spent the next hours planning.
Maps sprawled across the table, faces marked, routes traced.
The new player was a ghost—no name, no face—but their moves were calculated and deadly.
We had to act fast.
The longer we waited, the more vulnerable we became.
Jomiloju's POV
I watched Steve's jaw tighten as the pieces came together.
The man I thought I knew—the villain, the protector—was a complex knot of contradictions.
And in the heart of that knot was me.
Steve's POV
Suddenly, the night exploded.
Gunfire shattered the quiet, bullets ripping through the walls.
Tunde yelled, scrambling for cover.
"Ambush!" I shouted, pulling Jomi down behind a battered couch.
Jomiloju's POV
Panic surged through me, but Steve's grip was steady.
His eyes locked on the windows, calculating, commanding.
I felt the cold barrel of a gun press against my side for a moment—a warning.
Time slowed.
Breaths froze.
Steve's POV
I fired.
Two shots.
Silence.
Then chaos.
Men crashed through the door, faces twisted with hatred.
We were outnumbered but not outmatched.
Jomiloju's POV
I grabbed a broken lamp and swung.
Steel met flesh.
Pain radiated through my hand.
But I kept fighting.
For Steve.
For myself.
For the life we wanted.
Steve's POV
We moved like a unit—fluid, lethal.
Every breath, every move honed by survival.
When the last attacker fell, silence fell heavy again.
We were alive.
But shaken.
Jomiloju's POV
I looked at Steve—his face bloodied, eyes burning with fierce determination.
This man who had kidnapped me was now my savior.
My lover.
My only hope.
Steve's POV
As the adrenaline faded, reality sank in.
We were deeper in the crossfire than ever.
The lines between friend and enemy blurred.
But one thing was clear:
I would protect Jomi—no matter the cost.