Steve's POV
Midnight cloaked Ojodu in a silence too perfect to trust.
The blackout stretched across ten blocks—engineered by Ada's team thirty minutes before the breach. Traffic lights blinked amber then died. Nearby streetlamps went dark. No dogs barked. No horns. Just stillness thick enough to slice.
Ojodu wasn't just off-grid.
It was waiting.
We parked two blocks out beneath a burnt-out billboard that once advertised luxury homes.
Now, it was a grave marker.
I checked my sidearm—.45 Glock, suppressor screwed in tight.
Beside me, Tunde loaded his rifle with the precision of a man who'd been doing this longer than anyone should have to.
In the driver's seat, Ada flicked off the engine and stared through the windshield. Her jaw was tight. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel once. Twice. Then stopped.
In the backseat, Jomi laced her combat boots.
No silk tonight. No lace. Just midnight-black tactical pants, a sleeveless top, and hair tied up tight. War-ready.
"You sure?" I asked softly, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
She looked up—eyes steady.
"I've never been more."
And I believed her.
Jomiloju's POV
They thought I was the soft one.
The pretty distraction. The wild card in heels.
But tonight, no one second-guessed me. They couldn't. I wasn't here for validation. I was here for vengeance.
Ajike was family.
And no one tortured family and walked away unmarked.
Steve handed me a knife. Smooth grip, curved blade.
"Not a threat," he said. "It's a promise."
I tucked it into my belt without blinking.
"Let's make some noise."
Tunde's POV
The compound was surrounded by a rusted perimeter fence and layers of lies.
From the street, it looked abandoned—windowless, burned-out, overgrown. But when I lifted the thermal scope, the illusion shattered.
Six guards on patrol, walking scripted routes across the upper floors. Two more on the roof. Four stationed at the rear—huddled near the backup generator.
And one signature in the basement.
Still. Weak. Alive.
Ajike.
"I count thirteen," I whispered into the comms. "Plus one in the pit. She's not moving much."
"Gate's wired with motion," Ada's voice crackled in. "One wrong move, they'll paint us in bullets."
I turned to Steve.
He looked at Jomi.
She nodded before he could ask.
"Let me in from the east side. I can kill the circuit quietly."
Tunde raised a brow. "You know how?"
A smirk crept across her face. "Remi taught me."
Silence.
Then Steve: "Go."
Jomiloju's POV
The metal fence scraped my palm as I climbed.
Every clang of my boots against iron rang louder than thunder in my head, but I kept moving. One step. One breath. One mission.
I dropped on the other side and crouched in shadow.
The utility panel was right where Remi once said it would be—in the crevice under a rusted air conditioning vent, covered in grime and disuse.
I popped it open.
Inside: wires, coils, dust.
Red. Green. Black.
Red and black cross—cut them both. Green alone? Tripwire.
My blade slid free with a whisper.
Breathe.
I sliced the wires clean, one at a time.
The courtyard lights blinked once.
Then died.
Steve's POV
The comm buzzed.
"Done," Jomi whispered.
I gave the signal.
Tunde melted into the shadows, sweeping left toward the side entrance. Ada followed with the portable jammer, sweeping a cone of interference around the security net.
I moved fast, first through the breach.
The door creaked open. No alarm.
The first guard didn't even flinch before I reached him.
Knife under the ribs—swift, clean, silent.
He collapsed without a sound.
We fanned out, checking corners, clearing rooms.
Each corridor was a coffin. Every step whispered death.
We reached the staircase descending into the basement.
Then—screaming.
Ajike's scream.
High. Raw. Pain-laced.
It shattered me.
I kicked the door open with my entire body weight.
And hell opened.
Jomiloju's POV
The room was soaked in red.
Not paint. Not lighting.
Blood.
Ajike was strapped to a chair, her arms bound behind her, mouth taped shut. Her face was swollen—one eye sealed shut, bruises blooming like ink across her skin. Her shirt was half-ripped. She shook uncontrollably.
And standing beside her—
"Obi," Steve said.
Shock bled into disbelief.
Obi turned slowly, gun in hand.
One of our own.
One of our trusted.
"I warned you she was a liability," he said, almost gently.
Then he fired.
Steve's POV
The shot grazed my upper arm.
Pain flashed. I dropped to my knee, gun still up.
Tunde opened fire—three suppressed rounds. Obi dove behind a steel cabinet.
Jomi didn't hesitate.
She sprinted toward Ajike, blade flashing.
Obi shouted, "She's not worth it, Steve! Neither of them are! You know what Koleosho's building. You know."
He raised his gun again—
And Jomi's knife flew.
Straight into his throat.
A clean arc.
Perfect aim.
Obi staggered, gurgled, dropped.
Dead.
Jomiloju's POV
I didn't feel guilty.
I didn't flinch.
I cut Ajike free as fast as I could, tearing the tape from her mouth. Her lips were cracked. Her breath came in broken sobs.
"You're safe," I whispered. "You're safe."
Steve knelt beside me, blood blooming across his arm.
"We need to go," he said. "Reinforcements'll be here in ten."
I nodded, cradling Ajike close.
Ada's POV – Outside the Compound
The van screeched around the corner as we emerged from the side door.
Gunfire echoed behind us—Tunde holding the rear as we hauled Ajike inside.
Ada floored the gas before the door slammed shut.
Steve sat opposite me, clutching his arm. Blood soaked through the gauze. His face was pale but focused.
Jomi sat on the floor of the van, Ajike's head in her lap, her hands soaked in blood and sweat.
"She's in shock," Jomi said. "We need a medic. She's stable for now, but barely."
No one spoke.
The van rocked with every pothole, every swerve.
Finally—Tunde broke the silence.
"If Obi flipped... how many more have?"
And no one had an answer.
Scene Shift — Elsewhere: Koleosho's POV
The screen pulsed with static, then cleared.
Live footage from the Ojodu compound played in grainy resolution—until the camera died in a burst of white noise.
Koleosho stood before a map of Lagos etched in LED. Red dots marked every known safehouse, black for compromised zones.
Ojodu now blinked red.
Plan A: Failed.
Bako stood at his side, arms crossed, jaw locked tight.
"They retrieved the girl."
"Yes," Koleosho said calmly, sipping from a silver flask. "And now they'll think they've won."
He handed Bako a folder—thick, bound in red leather.
Inside: files on Steve. Jomiloju. Tunde. Ada. Ajike.
Recent photos. Surveillance reports. Annotations in his own hand.
Koleosho's gaze burned like oil.
"Then let's give them a war they can't survive."
He closed the file with a snap.
"And burn everything they love along the way."