They spilled into the night with the dispersing crowd.The chants still echoed behind them; the air outside was cooler, not cleaner.
"That wasn't him," Jabari said. "But he's close."
Malik's reply was sharp. "We saw a show, not a sign. This place eats people. We don't belong."
"We decided together," Jabari shot back."It was a mistake," Malik said.Kwame stepped between them. "Enough. Not here."
Rashid's voice drifted. "The game felt hollow. Like someone stole its soul."
Tariq forced a brittle grin. "Maybe they did. Maybe that's business now."
Ahead, Quim Matola swaggered past, laughing with a policeman and a man stepping from a black SUV.Councilman Nelo—smile polished, handshake expensive.
Jabari watched the taillights fade. "So who owns this circus?"
Malik snorted. "The ones who never have to run."
They turned down a narrow lane.Meli appeared again, the ball under her arm."You shouldn't stand here," she said. "They don't like people they can't see."
"Who's they?" Jabari asked."The ones who keep the lights on." She pointed toward the dark corner of the fence. "He only plays when big men come."
"Enzo?" Jabari whispered.
She smiled, secretive. "The Magician."
A shadow cut across the lot.A woman stepped from it — Rosa Mutemba, bomber jacket faded, scar along her jaw catching the light."Meli." The girl vanished behind her.
Rosa's gaze moved over them like a slow scan."Tourists?"
"We're locals," Malik said.
"Not from this side," she answered.When Jabari tried to speak, she lifted a hand. "Don't say names. Names are receipts."
Kwame inclined his head. "Then advice?"
"Don't come here chasing a story about yourselves," she said. "This place will sell you one you don't want."Her eyes lingered on Malik. "Wolves aren't the problem."
"Then what is?" he asked.
"People who don't have to run."She walked away, Meli trailing like a shadow.
They stood there, the meaning settling like dust.
Jabari's voice was steady now. "We can stop—"
Malik cut in. "We won't. But we do it my way. No names. No plays. We watch, we learn, we leave."
Kwame nodded. "Two by two. Chapa stop if split."
Rashid's pencil moved on a torn receipt—two figures under floodlight, one in shadow."We're being watched," he murmured.
Jabari looked back toward the Arena's glow."Good," he said. "Let him see us."