₦airaland Forum

Up next..

Episode 127- Back Up Plans.


Aristotle noticed the way I was lost in deep thought after he asked that question.

He wasn’t looking at me in a mocking way.
Just a slight change in his eyes — like a man who had been waiting for that exact reaction from me.

“Hey you, call M.S for me,” he said calmly, without taking his eyes away from me. “Tell him to bring my phone.”

One of the men by the lobby stepped out immediately.

I stayed quiet.
Still trying to arrange my thoughts into something that made sense. Something that would stop me from going totally insane.

A few seconds later, the door opened.
A man walked in and came straight to the bed.
There was a phone in his hand.

He handed it to Aristotle. He worked on the phone briefly, then gave it back to the man.

“Show him this,” he instructed.

The man brought the phone straight to me. He put it in front of my eyes.

I frowned slightly.
“What is this?”

“Just look at the fucking phone, idiot,” Aristotle said from the bed. “Or do you think I’m trying to kill you?”

I looked.
It was a picture of Mrs. Adeoye.
Standing beside a man. Their posture suggested they were more than strangers to each other — like lovers or close friends. The look on Mrs. Adeoye’s face in that picture said it all.

And the man…
I knew that face from television.
You don’t see someone like that once and forget.
News headlines on Channels.
Political debates with Rufai Oseni on Arise TV.
That face shows up almost everywhere.

I looked at Aristotle.
“I know this man beside her. How are they related?”

“That’s good. That you even know him,” he replied.

I looked back at the phone again.

“That’s Mr. Adigun Adeoye,” he said.
“He’s her estranged husband.”

Husband?

I looked up again.
“She never told anyone — not even me — about any estranged husband.”

He gave a small nod.

I kept looking at the phone.
Trying to match this image with everything I thought I knew.
It wasn’t fitting at all.

“At least now you understand why I asked you that question earlier,” he continued.
“How well do you know that fucking woman?”

I didn’t respond.
Because the honest answer to that question…
was starting to sound very different in my head.

He shifted slightly on the bed.
“That man you’re seeing, Double A, like my nickname” he went on, “is not just anybody.”

I looked at him.
“I know who he is in this country, but what I don’t know is how he is her husband.”

“If you calm down,” he said, “I will explain everything to you.”

“Okay,” I said, adjusting in my chair.

“Do you also know he belongs to the same party as me?”
A small pause.
“And that he’s contesting for the same presidential ticket of our party with me?”

I let out a slow breath.
“So you’re telling me this is all about politics now?”

“Of course it is. It has always been politics,” he replied.
“Whatever she and my brother told you to gain your trust, your loyalty — it has always been politics. You just didn’t know you were inside the game all this while.”

Episode 126 - Cracks In The Story.



Most people, when they have power, they start talking very fast—like they’re afraid it might slip from their hands if they don’t use it quickly.

But Aristotle…
he spoke like a man who knew the power wasn’t going anywhere.

He looked at me for a while. Like he was checking if I was still the same person he thought I was, or if life had already reduced me to something easier for him to handle.

Then he finally spoke.
“Tell me something, Darous…”

His voice came out soft.
“That fucking woman that's using you against me… what exactly do you know about her?”

That sounded like a question that didn’t come looking for an answer. It came looking for a single slip from me.

I didn’t say anything.
Not because I didn’t have words.
But because I could already see the shape of the trap he was setting for me. And I’ve known him long enough to know that some conversations with him are not for speaking… they are for listening.

So I gave him silence. And I mean, undiluted one.

He watched me for a few seconds… then nodded slowly, like a teacher marking a script.
“Good,” he said quietly.
“At least now you’re learning.”

Learning what exactly? How to stand in front of the devil and behave like a well‑trained goat?

He adjusted himself on the bed, wincing slightly, but not loud enough for him to look weak. He had even found a way to put his pain on a tight leash.

“The Circle sent me a memo,” he said.

“There will be a vote. To take me out.”

If he had told me the price of fuel had come down to two hundred naira, it would have sounded more surprising than the way he said that.

“And it's happening next week.”

I kept looking at him.
But inside my head, it wasn’t his words that were playing.
It was everything else.
Every pain.
Every loss.
Every moment that didn’t make sense until it was already too late to fix.

And sitting right in front of me… breathing calmly like he was discussing our weekend plans…
was the man that orchestrated all of it.

The reason Tiffany was lying somewhere in India, body present, life on hold. Machines doing the work her body system was supposed to be doing.

And here he was… talking about votes.

He continued .
“If you people think for one second that one bullet will take me down that easily…then you have something else coming for you.”

That was when it clicked again.
This man was not trying to sound strong.
He was simply stating what he believed was fact.
Like saying the sun will rise tomorrow.

He's just lucky this wasn't when I was a younger version of my self, when I could summon thunder at will. His motherfucking ass would be ashes right now.

I finally spoke at that junction.
Because at that point, silence was starting to feel like I was cooperating with his nonsense talks.

“Then why am I here?” I asked.
My voice came out steady. Even I was a bit surprised.
“If you’re this sure of yourself… if you already know how this ends… why am I sitting here listening to all this?”

Join our telegram channel for the continuation of thiss
Episode.

#adigunwrites

Episode 125 — The Calm Snake.


The phone stayed in my hand long after the call ended, still close to my ear, like I was wishing I could un‑hear what I had just heard.

*“Be at Oshodi under bridge in one hour.
Come alone.”*

I remember asking the only question I could come up with at that moment.
“How do I know you won’t kill me once I enter that car?”

There was a short pause before he spoke.
“You don’t know.”

Then he added something else.
“But what you should know is… our abroad guy will receive something that could make him kill you on his phone if you don’t show up.”

I wanted to ask him what that “something” was, but he didn’t say anything else before the line went dead.

I slowly pulled the phone away from my ear.
For a few seconds, I just stood there.

Because whatever that man had on me…
was not something I could risk testing.

That instruction — be at Oshodi under bridge in one hour — was not something I could avoid.

I just had to go.
Whether I liked it or not.

I lowered the phone slowly and let out a breath that felt like releasing a fart you’ve been holding too long, afraid to drop it in the boardroom.

What if he kills me the moment I get there? That thought ran through my mind before another followed: it’s better he kills me than Jude finding out what happened between me and his ex-girlfriend.

How did my life suddenly take this turn?
The sex I thought I had with Cynthia months ago—something I dismissed back then—had come back to haunt me.

My past hadn’t just caught up…
it had tracked me down like a professional.

I rode Lexus hoping my past would be too broke to afford a vehicle, let alone chase me. But little did I know, my past had taken a loan and now owned a Ferrari.

I dropped the phone on the bed and stood there, staring at nothing.
Then after a few minutes, I started moving.

I picked up the clothes I wore the other night without thinking too much. Halfway through dressing, I paused.

There was a problem.


Join our telegram channel for the continuation

Up next on friends Frenemies and Foes

Episode 123 — The Bush Road.

The van moved steadily through the lonely night road, its engine humming softly.

Inside the back of the van, the air was very heavy.
Darous, Toyosi and Jude lay on the metal floor where they had been thrown earlier. The sedative still held them down.

Their bodies did not move, except for the slow rise and fall of their chests.

Bunmi sat close to them.
Her eyes never rested.
Every few seconds she bent down to check Toyosi first, then Jude, then Darous. She placed her fingers close to their noses to feel their breath.

Each time she did that, two pairs of eyes followed her.
Two armed guards sat on the narrow metal bench opposite them.
Their rifles rested across their laps.
They had been watching Bunmi since the van started moving.

The first guard finally spoke.
“Madam, stay in your seat,” he said coldly.

Bunmi ignored him.
She leaned down again and touched Toyosi’s neck, checking her pulse.

The second guard shifted his gun slightly.
“He told you to stay in your seat.”

Bunmi looked up at them slowly.
“My daughter is sleeping on the floor like a dead person,” she said. “And you expect me to sit quietly? What did you do to them?”

The first guard’s eyes hardened.
“I won’t repeat myself.”

“You can do your worst, eyin omo ale jatijati yi. Do you want to tell me you don’t know me? Eh?”

No one answered her.

“I will check my daughter as many times as I want. You cannot do worse than what your useless boss has already been doing to me.”

The first guard leaned forward.
“I’m warning you, madam. You are testing my patience.”

Bunmi did not even flinch.
She looked at both men from head to toe, then shook her head slowly.
“Look at the two of you. Carrying guns like warriors but afraid of one mother checking her child. If courage was rice, both of you would still be begging for crumbs.”

Then she leaned closer to Toyosi again.

Naomi held her father’s arm tightly. The little girl did not understand everything, but she knew something bad was happening.

“You better kill me now,” Bunmi said calmly. “Because I will not stop checking my daughter and her friends.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Join our telegram channel for the continuation .

#adigunwrites

Up next.....

Up next

Darous The Son Of Thunder is our next story once we are done with our present project.

Friends Frenemies and Foes.

Let's go. You don't want to miss this

My dear readers, I need your honest opinion on something.
For this new story “Darous – The Son of Thunder,” should we keep the series short and sharp… maybe 20–30 episodes?

Or should we allow it to breathe properly and go the long road, the way Countless and FFF went?

You people already know me. Writing small, compact stories is not exactly my strongest talent.

Once the story starts moving… it usually refuses to stop walking.

So before I start releasing thunder on everybody, I would really like to hear from you.

Should we keep it short… or should we go all in?
Your feedback will help shape how this story is told.

Darous The Son Of Thunder is our next story once we are done with our present project.

Friends Frenemies and Foes.

Drop reactions if you are looking forward to this masterpiece from ADIGUN IDOWU.

#adigunwrites.

You can start booking your seats now.

Episode 121 - The Quiet Trap.

Toyosi stood there for a few seconds, frozen in place.
Jude was already out of the car by then. He leaned casually against the door like a man who had just arrived at a lounge instead of a quiet hospital in the middle of nowhere.

The two of them stared at each other for nearly sixty seconds in total silence.

Toyosi’s face carried that controlled look she always wore when she was trying very hard not to react. The same expression she used the last time they were both at Mrs. Adeoye’s dining table.

Jude simply watched her, his hands buried in his pockets, studying her like a man trying to confirm if a memory in his head was painful or manageable.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable for all of us.

I decided to step forward.
I looked from Toyosi to Jude, then back again.
“Good,” I said calmly. “So the two of you remember each other.”

Neither of them answered.

I shook my head slowly.
“You see why I don’t like bringing important people to meet Aristotle's people?”

Toyosi’s lips twitched first.
Then she finally spoke.
“Shut up, Darous,” she said slowly, still looking at Jude. “Where exactly did you find this idiot boy?”

I opened my mouth to tell her the idiot boy was her cousin.

But before the words could leave my mouth, Jude’s eyes widened slightly.
He saw what I was about to say.
And he moved fast.

Before Toyosi could react, Jude stepped forward and pulled her into a quick hug, using Toyosi's blind spot to tell me to shut up.

Toyosi froze again for a moment — probably wondering what that was meant for.

Join our telegram channel for the continuation.

#adigunwrites

Up next

Episode 120 - The Long Evening.

I drove inside the compound.
The gate closed quietly behind us.

Mrs. Adeoye’s Mercedes was already parked near the entrance. I parked beside it and stepped out with Jude.

I was still looking for the perfect response to give him about Cynthia when he paused for a second, looking around the compound again.

The same compound that once hosted that ridiculous gathering of politicians and businessmen. The same compound where Tiffany and Toyosi stepped down from that Mercedes and scattered the dignity of three grown men in five seconds.

Jude shook his head lightly.
“Life is funny sha.”

I didn’t answer. We walked into the house.

Mrs. Adeoye appeared from the inner hallway almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for the sound of the door. Her eyes moved from me to Jude, then back to me.

I didn’t stretch the moment.
“Jude is on board.”

For a brief moment her composure broke. A small breath escaped her before she smiled.
“That is good. Very good.”

Then she looked at us again.
“I owe both of you an apology.”

Jude raised a brow slightly but stayed quiet.

“Jude, for lying to you about the business proposal. But be rest assured, we will still do business once this man is down.”

Jude only smiled at that.

She turned to me.
“And you, Darous, for not telling you his identity before the airport.”

“I thought as much.”

“So you guys forgive this old woman?” She put her palms together in an apologetic gesture.

“Apology accepted.” We both said it simultaneously.

That was the end of that conversation.

Later I told Jude, “It’s been over six months since I last set eyes on Cynthia.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes. Abi you… you are still interested in dating her?”

He smiled faintly, shaking his head.
“No,” he said. “I’m only asking because of what happened between us.”

Join our telegram channel.

#adigunwrites

Up nexf

Episode 118 — A Friend Returned.

For almost two minutes we just sat there, staring at each other like two men who had seen a ghost and were still deciding whether to believe their own eyes.

Jude leaned back slightly in his chair, still studying my face as if he expected it to vanish.

I spoke first.
“Guy… ahah… you just disappeared like that."

" No be like that jare....." He said with a smile.

" No be like kini, Jude? No call. No text. Nothing nothing. Eh? Do you know how many times I tried to reach you?”

He opened his mouth but I didn’t stop talking.
“Your number was dead. Everyone said they had no idea where you went. At some point I even thought something bad had happened to you.”

I shook my head slowly.
“And the funny thing is that, when I needed you the most, you were nowhere to be found."

"Hmmm." He released a deep breath with that smile still on his face.

" Bro, you think say na joke? " I scoffed. " If I begin to tell you everything I’ve been through since you left, you won’t even believe half of it.”

Jude sighed again and raised both hands slightly in surrender.
“Okay, okay. Calm down first.”

He leaned forward.
“Darous, you know me na. Six years of our friendship. Do you really think I would just vanish like that without a valid reason?”

“I know you have your reasons. But what I’m pissed about is why you were unreachable at all. You know I thought it was because of Kenny and his threats back then, but I never expected you to just disappear like that…”

He shook his head.
“It wasn’t because of Kenny… no, no, no. I couldn’t explain anything then. But I promise you it was for a very good reason. And I will tell you everything now that we’ve met again.”

Join our telegram channel for the continuation

#adigunwrites

Up next

Episode 117 — The Ninth Seat

“The courier came,” Mrs. Adeoye said in a calm voice that made me wonder what bad news was hidden inside those words.

“You know I couldn’t meet him myself.”

I nodded, holding back the urge to ask why, so she wouldn’t start questioning the “SMART” in my name.

“That would have exposed your identity,” I said.

“Exactly.” She gave a small nod.
“So I sent my Arab men to deliver the package. And they did.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

She took a sip of juice before answering.
“Nothing is ever just like that with those kinds of people. But in the courier’s case, he only sent instructions through a secure channel — a hotel room number. My men went there and handed over the sealed envelope containing the DNA report, the teeth of both parents, and every other thing that could prove the claim.”

“So the courier did not tell them anything about what next?”

“Nothing at all. They said he checked the seal, collected the package, and left.”

That sounded exactly like the kind of organisation that preferred silence over conversation.

“So what happened after that?” I pressed. “Because I still don’t see the bad news here.”

“I waited for over five days for them to get back to me Until one evening when I received an email.”

“From them?”

“Yes.” She reached for her phone.
“What baffles me is that, despite all my efforts to remain anonymous — using different phone lines, different routing, making sure there were no markers pointing to me on the documents — it still didn’t matter.” She turned the screen toward me.
“They still knew it was me.”

I stared at her.
“You mean they now know your identity?”

“That’s the bad news I'm talking about. They know who I am, and I don’t know what that means for us going forward.”

I let that sink in before asking, “What did the email then say?”

She unlocked her phone and read slowly.
“First, they confirmed the evidence I provided was authentic.”

“That means Aristotle is finished,” I said quickly.

She shook her head.
“No. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because according to them, confirmation is only the first step.”

I leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”

“The Circle confirmed that the current holder of Seat Number Five is not the biological firstborn son of the previous occupant.”

“That should disqualify him automatically. At least if what Tiffany’s father told us is true.”

Join our telegram channel for the continuation.

#adigunwrites

Up next

Episode 116 — Echoes and Evidence.


After that call with Mrs. Adeoye, I did everything possible to keep my mind away from Tiffany.
Not because I’d moved on from her.
But because thinking about her too much had started doing something dangerous to my head.

At first, it started small — like thinking I saw her in a crowd.
A woman passing by with the same type of hair as hers.
The same height.
The same walking style.
My heart would jump immediately.
I would slow down. Turn again. Look carefully.
Then I would realise it wasn’t her.
Just another Nigerian woman living her normal life.

The first few times it happened, I ignored it.
Then it started getting worse.

One afternoon I was driving the Prado through Allen Avenue traffic when I suddenly saw her standing by the roadside.
Clear as daylight.
White blouse. Black trousers. The exact outfit she wore the last time we went out to Cold Stone together.

My brain froze.
I slammed the brake so hard the car behind almost climbed into my boot.
Horns exploded everywhere.
Drivers shouted insults I didn’t even bother to answer.

But when I looked again…
The woman wasn’t Tiffany.
Just someone who shared the same hairstyle.

That day I understood something.
My mind was beginning to Judas-Iscariot me. In simpler, un‑Hebrewish terms — my mind was starting to betray me.

The Prado continued being my main companion — the only positive thing Aristotle had ever added to my life, aside from the money sitting in my accounts.

It’s not as if I didn’t have many free pvssy offers from beautiful women, but the smooth engine of the Prado, its solid body, and comfortable seats were a perfect companion for someone slowly losing his mind.

Sometimes I would see Tiffany standing near a shop while driving and my leg would hit the brake before my brain had time to process what I was seeing.

It happened more times than I liked to admit.

Unfortunately, the Suya boys and Around 90 were witnesses to one of those moments.
And they refused to just let it go.

The evening it happened, we were returning from a burial.
One of the Suya boys had lost his grandmother in Ibadan. The old woman suffered a heart attack after someone stole her precious goat — the one she had planned to use for the upcoming Eid al‑Fitr. So the four of them insisted I join them for the funeral.

The journey back to Lagos was fun and lively.
Until we reached Agege road.

The Prado was full.
I was driving.
The four Suya boys squeezed in the back like passengers inside a commercial bus.
And beside me in the front seat sat Around 90.

Halfway down the road, I saw someone crossing ahead.
A woman.
Same shape.
Same hairstyle.
Same walk as Tiffany.

For a split second, my brain screamed one word.
Tiffany.

My foot reacted before my head could stop it.
I slammed the brake.
The Prado screamed to a halt.

Inside the car commotions exploded.
The fat one among the Suya boys smashed his head against the seat.
The skinny one flew forward and nearly kissed the dashboard.
The tall one grabbed the short one’s neck thinking it was the seat belt.
Around 90 held the dashboard like a man whose soul was about to sign out from his body.



Join our telegram channel for the continuation.

#adigunwrites

Episode 115 – Legacy Debt

While the fight between Kalu and Jago was going on, nobody noticed when the rear door of the Benz opened gently.

Toyosi stepped out.
She moved quietly toward the dog house first. The dogs were already restless, their low growls rising with the tension in the air. But the moment they saw her, their bodies relaxed. The barking stopped.

She bent slightly and whispered to them, calming them the way she always had since they were puppies. Toyosi knew their barking could wake the drunken guards sleeping around the compound.
And that was the last thing they needed tonight.

When she was sure they were quiet, she walked back to the side of the Benz and leaned slightly against it.
From there, she watched.

Every word her father spoke to Kalu carried the same cold arrogance she had grown up hearing. Each sentence only made the anger inside her grow stronger.
It was the kind of anger that had been building for years.

Finally, she pushed herself away from the car.
And began walking toward them.

Her mother saw her first.
“Omotoyosi, go back! Go back!”

Aristotle did not even turn.
His eyes were still locked on Kalu.
“Get back in that vehicle, Toy,” he said calmly.

“Because of what?” she fired back as she continued walking. "Because you'll shoot me?"

“No. Because I am your father,” Aristotle replied coldly.
“And I am telling you to go back now.”

Toyosi kept moving.
“I stopped being your daughter the moment you threatened to shoot me.”

She came closer.
The headlights from the Benz lit one side of her face, leaving the other half hidden inside the night shadow.

“Omotoyosi,” Bunmi pleaded desperately.
Her body struggled against Aristotle’s grip as she spoke.
“Please go back, oko mi… please… ma je kin fi oju sunkun omo…”

Her voice broke as she tried to free herself.
“Don’t allow this bloodthirsty monster laugh over your grave…”

“Don’t do that, Mummy,” Toyosi said softly. "You can't stop me this night."

She stopped a few steps away.
Then slowly, she brought the gun out from behind her waist.
And raised it.
Straight at her father.

For a brief moment, Aristotle stared at her.
A surprised scoff escaped his lips.
It was the kind of scoff someone gives when they believe something is too ridiculous to be real.

But the surprise disappeared from his face almost immediately.
His expression turned cold again.
“So this is what our relationship have become,” he said quietly. "Toy?"

Toyosi shifted slightly to the side.
Now she stood directly opposite Kalu.
Aristotle stood in the middle.
Two guns pointed at him.

For a moment, the night became silent.
Even the wind seemed to pause.

“Toyosi,” Kalu said quietly.
“You don’t want to do this, trust me. You don’t want to have your father’s blood on your hands.”

Toyosi’s eyes flashed.
“Why does everyone keep telling me that same bullshit?”

Join our Telegram channel for this epic story.

#adigunwrites

Episode 114 – Open Gate

Toyosi shut the door and sat down, trying to control her breath. She adjusted the gun behind her waist and sat properly. Her eyes remained fixed on the situation ahead.

The Benz’s engine was still humming softly. The headlights were still cutting through the dark, stopping at the side of the BMW like a boundary line nobody had permission to cross.

Kalu leaned forward slightly.
“Now what?”

“What what?” Toyosi asked with a frown.

“Are we just going to sit here and continue watching this maniac beat her to a stupor?” he said quietly.

“Haba!” She turned sharply to him. “Use your head, nau… detective. Can’t you see what he’s trying to do here?”

“Of course I see it.” Kalu straightened. “He wants to make me watch as he beats her to death.” He let out a low groan and looked ahead again, watching as Bunmi and her husband remained locked in a tense exchange.

“If that’s all you can see, then you are not seeing clearly.”

“Borrow me your lenses then. Let me see through them.”

“You see, I know my father. The sole aim of this confrontation with my mum is to use it to drag you out. He’s after you. He wants you to give him a reason to kill you. Confronting him now is all the reason he needs to send you to your grave.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “He just threatened to shoot you. You, his daughter.”

“And did he mention you?” she replied. “Even though he knows you are in the car right now. The moment you show up with that gun, you automatically become the main issue. And when you become the issue, he can even use my mother as an example to teach you a lesson. Are you going to let that happen?”

“So I just sit here and do nothing?” Kalu said.

“No. I’m already thinking of a plan. Just wait for my signal.”

Outside, Mrs. Adeleke was still talking with her husband.
The guard — Jago — stood firm. Gun steady. The muzzle stayed pointed at the Benz.

Then it happened again.
Aristotle’s hand rose and landed across Mrs. Adeleke’s face.
The sound travelled clearly.

She staggered.
She lifted her own hand and swung at him.
He shifted slightly. Her palm cut through empty air.

His hand came again.
A clean sweep across her face.
She lost balance and fell to the gravel.

That was it.
“Damn it. Fvck your plan, Toyosi. I'm getting out of here.” Kalu said as he reached for his gun on the dashboard.

He opened the door and stepped out quickly, his gun raised.

Jago fired immediately.
The windshield cracked.
Glass sprayed inward.

Kalu dropped and rolled hard across the gravel as bullets struck metal. Sparks jumped off the Benz. The shots were controlled. Jago was aiming to disable him, not to kill him immediately.

Join our telegram channel.

For the complete story.

#adigunwrites

Up next

Episode 113 - Blood And Command.


The engine of the Mercedes was still running. The headlights were on. The white beams stretched forward and stopped at the black BMW 760Li like a warning line.

The rear door of the BMW opened, and a man dressed in black appeared. He stood by the side facing the Benz, hands folded across his chest, his face hard as stone.

Toyosi leaned forward slightly. Trying to catch the identity of the man.

Then she froze.

“That’s my father’s personal bodyguard,” she said under her breath. Then louder: “What's he doing here?.”

Others said nothing.

“He’s supposed to be in Abuja with him,” Toyosi added, disbelief creeping into her voice. “What's going on? .”

Still, Kalu did not respond.
He was studying the distance, the possibility of escape.

The BMW was parked at an angle, blocking most of the gate but not fully touching the wall. There was a small gap near the tail end. Small. Risky. But it was there.

He was thinking if he accelerated hard enough and hit the back side of the BMW, it might shift just enough to create space for them to escape.

He knew the risks.
If he was caught this time, there would be no going back to the cellar. No second chance. No negotiation. His existence would end in the compound.

He glanced at Bunmi in the back seat.
She was as frightened as everyone else.

“I would rather go back into that house in a body bag,” she said quietly, “than spend one more second breathing there.”

Toyosi nodded slowly. "So what do we do?.”

Kalu adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
One deep breath.
He pressed his foot lightly on the accelerator, testing the response of the engine. The Benz responded smoothly.

He calculated again.
The angle. The speed. Impact point.

He was going to ram the tail end of the BMW. It would spin slightly once the tires lost balance.

It's risky but possible.

He began to press harder on the gas.
Then—

The rear door of the BMW opened.
Everyone inside the Benz went still.

A pair of polished brown loafers touched the ground first.
Then simple dark jeans.
Then a plain white T-shirt.
A small pouch hung across his neck.

No agbada. No campaign cap. No convoy noise.
Just casual dressing.

Aristotle stepped out as if he had had enough of the drama going on outside.

Join our Telegram channel.

#adigunwrites

Up next.