Jomiloju's POV
The city was waking up, but our world remained shrouded in shadows. The safehouse was a skeleton of what it had been — shattered glass, scorched walls, and the heavy scent of smoke that clung to everything.
I ran my fingers over the cracked windowsill, still feeling the adrenaline thrum beneath my skin from last night's attack. The gunfire, the chaos, the relentless pounding of my heart as I clung to Steve's arm — all of it lingered, a reminder that nothing was safe anymore.
Steve stood by the battered door, his gaze sharp and calculating. The softness he reserved for me was nowhere in sight now — replaced by the steel coldness of a man preparing for war.
"We need allies," he said, voice low. "People who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty."
I nodded, my mind racing. I had lived a sheltered life, one of political dinners and guarded smiles. But now, everything I knew was turning upside down. The streets I had once feared were now the battlegrounds I needed to understand.
Steve's POV
Every second counted. Koleosho was closing in, his network sprawling like a poison through the city's veins. We were exposed, vulnerable.
Trust was a weapon, but also a liability.
I had a few names in mind — old contacts, mercenaries, even rival factions who hated Koleosho's iron grip as much as we did.
I met with Tunde and the others. "We can't fight this alone. We need the right people — those with nothing to lose."
Tunde's eyes narrowed. "Some of them aren't just mercenaries. They're killers. Loyalties shift like sand."
"I know," I said. "But desperate times call for desperate measures."
Jomiloju's POV
I remembered the political dinners where my father's allies whispered secrets behind closed doors. Alliances born out of convenience, betrayal lurking beneath polite handshakes.
Could I trust anyone in this dark world of shadows and deceit?
The Meeting
That evening, we convened in a hidden warehouse on the outskirts of Lagos. The air was thick with tension, the low hum of whispered conversations and clinking glasses masking the dangerous game we were about to play.
I watched the men and women file in — some familiar, others strangers whose eyes gleamed with both hope and menace.
Among them was Ada, a sharp-eyed woman with a reputation for ruthlessness and loyalty only to those who paid her well. Her gaze locked with mine for a moment, assessing.
"You're the politician's daughter," she said bluntly. "Not what I expected."
"I'm not the same girl I was," I replied, voice steady despite the knot tightening in my stomach.
Steve's POV
Ada was a wildcard — deadly and unpredictable. But she hated Koleosho just as much as we did.
I introduced Jomi to her properly, watching closely for any sign of betrayal.
"This isn't a game," I warned. "If you cross us, there won't be anywhere to run."
Ada smirked. "Good. I like my partners dangerous."
Jomiloju's POV
As the night wore on, alliances were forged over whiskey and whispered promises.
I found myself drawn to Ada's confidence, her no-nonsense attitude a stark contrast to the menacing undercurrent that surrounded us.
For the first time, I felt like I belonged to something greater than fear.
The Enemy's Reach
But even as we planned, shadows lurked. A message arrived — a warning written in blood.
"We know where she is."
My heart stopped.
Steve's POV
Koleosho was tightening the noose.
"We move tonight," I said. "No mistakes."
The men armed themselves, eyes sharp, nerves taut.
Jomiloju's POV
I stared at the message again, the cold reality sinking in.
There was no turning back.
The Operation
Under the cloak of darkness, we moved through the city's labyrinthine streets.
Every corner held danger, every face a potential enemy.
My hand found Steve's, a silent promise to stay alive, no matter what.
Steve's POV
The plan was risky — infiltrate Koleosho's network, gather intel, and strike where it would hurt most.
But the cost could be everything.
Jomiloju's POV
As we approached the target, my breath caught.
This was no longer just a war for survival — it was a war for our souls.