The van smells like rust and sweat.
Seven of them squeeze into the back, guns wrapped in old cloth, eyes sharp with silent codes. No one talks unless it's necessary. The ride to Ojuelegba is tense, bumpy, and fast. Lagos at night doesn't sleep—it watches, it waits.
Ivie sits between Razor and a girl called Sefi who hums old gospel tunes under her breath like protection. Ivie doesn't hum. Her protection is silence. Control. Watching everything.
Across from her, Rico stares out the window like he doesn't care, but he's been tracking every breath she takes. She doesn't know that. Or maybe she does. With BB, it's hard to tell what she's pretending and what she truly feels.
Mama Tee speaks from the front. "In and out. Thirty minutes. The guards change shift at eleven-fifteen. No names. No noise."
The crew nods.
At eleven-ten, the van slows. They're here.
A large warehouse looms behind a crumbling fence. Faded signs warn of cameras, but Mama Tee already confirmed they're dummy systems—meant to scare poor thieves, not the brave ones.
Sefi and Razor slip out first. Rico follows. Then BB.
She crouches low, heart steady. The air tastes of iron and diesel. She watches Razor disable the gate lock like it's second nature.
Inside the warehouse, the lights are dim. Crates line the walls—marked "NGO SUPPLY" in red spray paint. Food. Water. Medicine.
All meant for the poor but rotting in a corrupt storage unit instead.
Mama Tee's voice cuts through the silence. "Load fast. Take what fits. Leave the rest."
The team splits. Ivie moves fast, grabbing sealed boxes and stacking them near the exit. She doesn't notice the way Rico watches her—how he's surprised she's not panicking, not hesitating.
She lifts a heavy box of malaria drugs onto her back like she's done it before. Rico moves beside her.
"You're strong," he says under his breath.
She doesn't look at him. "I've carried heavier things."
It's not just a reply. It's a warning. A hint. A truth.
Something cracks in him.
But before he can answer, there's movement outside. Flashlights.
"Security!" Sefi hisses.
"Move!" Mama Tee shouts.
Chaos erupts.
Boxes drop. Footsteps scatter. Ivie runs, her heart slamming against her ribs. Rico grabs her arm and pulls her behind a shelf just as a flashlight beam slices through the open door.
They crouch low. Breathless. Pressed close.
Her hand rests on his chest. She can feel his heartbeat—fast, solid, real.
He whispers, "You okay?"
She nods.
His hand lingers at her waist a second longer than it should. She doesn't move.
Then Razor's voice echoes from the back. "All clear! Let's go!"
They break apart. Run. Escape into the night like smoke.
By midnight, they're back at the safe house, the stolen goods tucked into hidden compartments. No one speaks for a while. Everyone breathes, counts their limbs, gives silent thanks.
Mama Tee lights a cigarette and grins. "Now that is how we do it."
Sefi laughs.
Razor slaps Rico on the back.
And BB?
She sits in the corner, silent. Watching.
Something is shifting inside her.
It's not just about hiding anymore.
She's becoming someone else.
And for the first time in years… she likes it.