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This Episode is the turning point of the story .

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EPISODE 63 – INSTINCT


As I held the gun straight at Kalu's head, gOT's voice whispered quietly to me.

'This gun fit no get bullet.'

And suddenly, that thought came alive inside of me.

Then another thought followed immediately.
'Or maybe it’s loaded… and this is how you become a killer.'

My heartbeat was loud in my ears, but my hands were steady. Too steady for someone holding a gun to another man’s head for the first time.

It was a two-way test.
If the gun was empty, then Aristotle wanted to see if I would still pull the trigger. That alone would confirm it — that I truly killed Black Mamba. That I had crossed that line before and wouldn’t hesitate to cross it again.
But if the gun was loaded… then he wanted blood. Real blood.
Detective Kalu’s blood on my hands. On my conscience. A stain that would never wash off. Something he could use to own me forever. Something that would bind me to him like a dog's neck chain.

Either way, Aristotle wins.
Either I prove I’m a killer —
or I become one right there in front of him.

This wasn’t about Kalu anymore.
This was about obedience.
This was about loyalty.
This was about whether I was ready to cross a line that can never be uncrossed.

At that moment, Kalu’s eyes met mine.
They weren’t begging.
They weren’t angry.
They were just tired.

Like he was somehow accepting his fate.

My mind snapped back to four weeks ago —
when this same detective was hunting me like I was a bandit that needed a U.S. military drone strike somewhere in Sokoto.

Back then, he's always connecting me to everything that goes wrong in the world.
He nearly destroyed my relationship with Tiffany.
He strained my friendships.
He cornered me and handed me a three-month ultimatum — to take down the very people who now had him on his knees.
And now the tables had turned.
He was at my mercy.
Even though this wasn’t mercy for either of us.
This wasn’t justice.
This was a test dressed like an execution.

And Kalu knew it.

I looked toward Aristotle.
He was already fvcking the sh1t out of the lady in doggy style while the second one was sucking his balls. He was grunting, still enjoying himself like a god watching ants fight over crumbs. His eyes were locked on me the whole time.



Join the telegram channel for continuation...

Episodes 1 - 41 is available for free on my Facebook page Darousmart Library .

Join My Telegram Channel for the continuations– Two Easy Options!

I want everyone to have a fair chance to access my Telegram channel, whether you have money or not. Here’s how:

💎 Option 1: Paid Access
- Subscription fee: ₦1,000 for 10 episodes.
- You get instant access, and new episodes will drop consistently — at least one every day.
- If you join after the first 10 episodes, you’ll pay ₦1,000 for episodes 42–51, then another ₦1,000 for episodes 52 onwards.
- This way, it’s fair for everyone — both early readers and those joining later.

I’m doing this so I can keep giving you high‑quality writing, tension, humour, emotions, and the kind of storytelling you’ve been enjoying.
If you’ve truly loved this story so far… if you want to keep following Darous, Tiffany, Kalu, Kenny, and The Circle mystery… then I believe this support won’t be too much.

Payment details: Contact me on WhatsApp.

Send your payment screenshot via WhatsApp, and you’ll receive the Telegram link instantly.

🌍 Option 2: Free Access Through Support
For those who don’t have money, you can still join by supporting my work:
- Go to my Facebook page @darousmart library
- Follow the page
- Share and like at least 20 of the previous episodes
- Then message me on WhatsApp, and I’ll send you the telegram link directly.

Whether you choose paid access or free support, you’ll still be part of this journey. Thank you for reading, for sharing, and for supporting my craft. Let’s continue this adventure together ❤️

As usual, our bonus Epsiode. Level of the story so far. Happy new year in advance


Episode 62 - Two Bullets.


“You dey owe me. Anytime when I commot for this place, I go find you and I go collect my money back. No believe say you don escape.”
Those were the exact words of Presido before I picked up my clothes from the floor, as the warders waited for me outside.

I smiled at him, then said,
“When you get outside, you go know another version of Darous wey you never see before.”

I smiled again, patted his big, hairy gorilla chest, and stepped out. The other guys were still in total shock. They probably never believed I’d get out so soon.

The two warders led me straight out of the cell.

At the counter, they handed me my things. As I changed into the same clothes I wore when I entered prison, everything came back to me at once.

Presido.
His rules.
His last threat.
The food.
The bathroom.
The fight in the yard with Clark, which eventually led to Clark’s death.
The two weeks I spent inside the Pit.
Black Mamba’s voice and his words — especially the memory card he gave me.
Kano and blackmailing.

When I stepped out of Kirikiri gate, the first thing that hit me wasn’t the freedom I just regained after three brutal weeks— it was the air.

I mean real air. Clean air. The kind that enters your chest without permission and reminds you that you’re still a living soul.

For a few seconds, I just stood there.
Not because I was confused…
but because part of me was still inside that prison world.

Let me make this clear, prison doesn’t just lock your body.
It sits inside your head.
It teaches you how to remain silent.
It teaches you how to listen with your eyes.
It teaches you that respect is not begged for — it is enforced, sometimes with pain.
I went in thinking if I mind my own business I wouldn't enter any trouble.

I came out knowing minding your own business in this type of world can even bring you more problems.

Inside Kirikiri, I learned that hunger humbles everybody.
That fear has no class, no age, no background.
That the bravest man can cry at night and still wake up dangerous in the morning.

That words are useless when doors are iron and decisions are final.

Prison didn’t make me proud.
It made me aware.
Aware that trust is expensive.
Aware that comfort is temporary.
Aware that once you survive a place designed to break you, the world outside can never intimidate you the same way again.
As I walked away from that gate, I knew one thing for sure:
I didn’t come out softer.
I came out sharper.
Not wicked.
Not heartless.
Just… prepared.
Because when you graduate from prison alive,
you don’t just regain freedom —
you gain a warning.
And you either listen to it…
or you go back inside.


So outside the gate, a black Prado was already waiting for me like someone that just landed at the airport.

It was the same Prado Chuka used to drop me at the location where I snatched the phone that led me to prison.

The side window wound down slightly, and Chuka signalled for me to come closer.
As I reached the car, the rear door opened.

Cynthia stepped out. Jude’s ex. You remember her abi?
She stepped out of the car like a warning sign in human form.
She was dressed in black from head to toe in a fitted jacket.

Her heels clicked softly on the ground, steady and deliberate, like someone who knew exactly where she stood. No jewelry at all.

She didn’t look fragile.
She looked armoured — like a woman who had learned how to survive by never looking breakable.

Then another guy came down from the front seat, dressed all black.
He told me to spread my arms and legs.

“What for?” I asked stubbornly.

Chuka spoke from inside the car. “Hey… behave.”

I hissed, then reluctantly allowed the guy to search me thoroughly. His hand touched something in my pocket. He brought it out and showed Chuka.

“What’s this?” Chuka asked.

“What does it look like?” I replied.

He looked at it briefly, dropped it on the floor, and smashed it with his foot.

I entered the car and sat quietly. Cynthia sat beside me on my left. She just looked quite different from the last time I saw her.

“Cynthia, how are you?” I asked as the car began to move.

She didn’t answer — probably didn’t want to talk to me in Chuka’s presence.

“Cynthia, wetin happen? Shey because of these guys now you no go talk to me? Me, your boyfriend’s best friend?”

That was all I said before Chuka put his mouth.

“Oh, that’s true… but you still fvck her, right? Your guy's babe.” He said in a mocking tone.

“No be your crazy boss force me into that nonsense?” I fired back.

“My own boss is crazy? Omo, you don dey grow wings o…” Chuka replied.

Cynthia looked at me and gestured for me to shut up.
I ignored her and continued.

“If you dey my situation that day, I sure say you no go fit survive am. Abi you think say I no hear say na me be the first person wey go beat your crazy boss for that nonsense game?”

Chuka was silent for a bit. For one second, I thought he was going to drop the subject totally — until he spoke again.

“Who told you that?” he asked, looking at me from the mirror.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell him it was Toyosi that told me.

If I did, he would definitely want to know what else Toyosi had told me — and I didn’t know if that would put her in danger. So I kept quiet and turned back to Cynthia.
“Cynthia, did you hear from Jude?”

She shook her head.

"Ha...that guy..."
I sighed.

One hour later, the Prado stopped in front of a massive mansion around seven p.m.
A tall black gate stood behind us, already sliding shut. In front of me was a mighty building — made of glass and stone, with soft lights glowing warmly, like it was ushering me into a new era.
Dogs were moving around freely. Big, giant ones.
German Shepherds. Rottweilers. And another one with a head as big as a buffalo’s.
Cynthia opened the door for me and led the way.
I was led straight into a large sitting room.

When I stepped in, Aristotle sat on a big sofa chair.
The same silver mask he liked to wear was on his face.
At that moment, I felt like telling him he shouldn’t bother covering his face, because I already knew who he was. But I waved the thought off. That would be a death sentence.

He was smoking a thick roll of marijuana and he appeared relaxed as usual. Two naked women sat beside him, slowly rubbing his bare chest.

Three other guys with guns in their pockets stood at different corners of the large sitting room.

Chuka dropped a white paper on the center table in front of Aristotle and sat on the adjacent chair, with Cynthia beside him.

Before I went to prison, this kind of setting alone would have sent shivers down my spine. It would have scared me easily.
But right there, my mind was steady.
It felt like I could take anybody on at that moment.

Back in Biology class, they taught us what over-secretion of the adrenaline gland can do to the human body.
Now, the level of confidence I was feeling as a fresh graduate of Kirikiri could only be explained by an over-secretion of prison life.

And to test this new level of confidence — to see if it would actually work — I went straight to the big refrigerator at the far corner of the sitting room.
I could feel all eyes following me with every step I took.

I opened the fridge and took out a big bottle of Ghost Horse Vineyard wine — a very expensive wine. I grabbed a cup and poured myself some. I turned around and was about to drink when one of the guys with a gun tried to stop me.

I looked at him and said calmly,
“If I whoooze you slap eh? Your brain go reset.”

He wanted to press the issue further but Aristotle signalled for him to step back.

In my mind, I smiled. That's 1 - 0.

I poured myself another cup, closed the fridge, and walked back with the wine in hand. I settled arrogantly on the sofa directly opposite Aristotle.

The women continued rubbing his chest. He continued puffing his smoke.
Behind the mask, his eyes met mine.

“Care for a smoke?” he asked with a sarcastic tone.

I won’t lie — my heart jumped a little. But I masked it with a smile.

“No. This wine is better baba. Three weeks inside Kirikiri no easy. No be small thing.”

He let out a short chuckle.
“Three weeks?” he said. “If prison is fire, you only went there to warm your hands. You see everybody in this room — apart from these women — has at one point in their lives slept inside that fire for more than one year.”

He paused then continued.
"You spent only three weeks and you want to own the streets?" He laughed. The other guys joined him too.

I allowed the noise to die down before I spoke.

“I’m not against that,” I replied casually, “but sometimes, someone who spends less time in the market can gain more than someone who stays there all day. Afterall, it’s not about how far — it’s about how well.”

I noticed a slight shift in his masked face, like he was smiling.

As the silence stretched, he spoke again.

“I told you I would get you out once you get the job done,” he said. “I’m only surprised it took you over three weeks.”

“Well, I ran into some problems I couldn’t avoid—” I said, sipping my wine again.

He dropped the roll in his hand and leaned back.
“Did you kill Black Mamba?” he blurted out suddenly.

“Yes,” I replied confidently.

“And you delivered my message?”

“Of course.”

“What was his reply?”

“The Ninth Father Zugzwang.” I answered sharply again.

He smiled slightly, picked up the stick of marijuana again, took a long drag, then grabbed one of the women by the neck and blew the smoke into her mouth as they locked into a long, stretched kiss.

“How did you kill him?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

I coughed gently.
“I can’t really go into details right now, boss. All I know is that I killed him — and he’s dead.”

“And if I insist?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that information.” I took another sip from my cup.

He signalled to Chuka. Chuka stood up and came to my side.

“Get up,” he barked.

I didn't answer him.

"Are you deaf? I said get up!."

At that moment, I didn’t know where that confidence was coming from. I looked at him and smiled.

“Maybe if you learn how to talk properly to me, I will consider it?” I said in a nonchalant manner.

“I won’t warn you again. Get up!” Chuka barked.

I smiled and leaned back into the chair instead.
"Oga, do your worst."

Visibly frustrated, Chuka moved to slap me. I dodged it cleanly. His balance shifted, and before he could throw another one at me, I grabbed his hand.

Aristotle chuckled.
“C.K. Let him be.”

Chuka grunted and walked back to his earlier position.

I took another sip of my wine and relaxed.

Aristotle fixed his gaze on me again.
“Just tell me how you killed him.”

I considered it carefully and decided that too much of everything is not good. I need to be smart and at the same time careful. So I cleared my throat, loud enough for everyone to hear, then began.

“If you must know sir, when I entered his cell, he was sleeping, so I woke him with a choke to the neck, then I made him tell me the response to your message before I strangled him with the pillow I found on his bed.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied confidently.

Aristotle picked up the paper Chuka dropped on the table earlier. He looked at it briefly, then dropped it on the table.

“The autopsy says it was poison,” he said.

I paused for a second.
“Well, between me and autopsy who you go believe sir?"

He was silent. I continued.

"The autopsy is definitely lying. I don’t know anything about poison. I know how I left him.”

He nodded slowly.
“Fair enough.”
Then he leaned forward.
“When Garri is poured into hot water, it either hardens or it becomes watery,” he paused. “I know prison did something to you. I can see it. The fear is gone. That boy that always beg at the slightest provocation is gone.”
He paused, then continued calmly.
“You know I could have killed Black Mamba myself without breaking a sweat. But that wasn’t the point. I sent you to Kirikiri to break the old you — the one that trembled at the sight of problems. This version sitting here now… this is what I wanted.”
He leaned back slightly.
“But now, there’s only one way to know if you truly killed him — or if all this confidence is just empty noise.”

He turned to Chuka.
“C.K, go and bring our guest.”

Chuka stood up immediately. Followed by Cynthia. They took the rear exit and left the sitting room.

I sat calmly and composed. I finished the last sip of my wine and stretched the empty cup to the guy that wanted to stop me from taking wine earlier. He shot me a deadly look.

“Thunder fire you,” I said, dropping the cup gently on the floor in front of me.

Aristotle smiled faintly, still smoking, the glow of the roll lighting the edges of his silver mask. One of the women was pressed tightly against him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest like none of this concerned her life.
“You see, Darous, everything that makes me happy,” he said slowly. His voice was smooth and thick. “Everything that makes me happy is either illegal… or a sin.”

He took another drag and exhaled, watching the smoke rise like it had a mind of its own.
“I’ve tried the normal things,” he continued. “Rules. Order. Society. They bore me. Too many lines, too many lies. They tell you what to want, when to want it, and how to feel guilty after.”

His hand rested casually on the woman’s waist.
“But power?” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Power is honest. Violence is honest. Power never pretends.”

A short, dry chuckle escaped his lips.
“When people look at me the way you did when you first met me… steady on the outside, screaming on the inside—that’s music to my ears.”
He leaned back into the sofa.
“They call me evil because I don’t pretend. I don’t hide my appetite. If I want something, I take it. If someone stands in the way, I remove them.”
He looked straight at me.
“That’s why I’m still here. And that’s why most people end up dead or forgotten.”
The room went quiet for a brief seconds.
“And that,” he finished calmly, “is what happiness looks like… for someone like me.”

Seconds later, Chuka returned with Cynthia and one other guy. I could hear the sound of chains as they moved towards the center of the sitting room.

The man in chains?

It was Detective Kalu.
Shock hit me hard. My mouth opened, but I couldn’t close it.

The chains were wrapped all around his body.
His mouth was gagged.
His eyes were swollen and tired.

They forced him to his knees in front of me.
Aristotle stood up, picked a gun from the table, and placed it in my hand.

“I gave you the chance to tell me the truth earlier — whether you killed Black Mamba or not. You insisted you did,” he said. “Now here’s your test.”

He pointed at Kalu.
“This detective killed my men. My top men. He even tried to kill me — but I was a hundred steps ahead of him. You can’t beat me. I’ve been in this game long before your ancestors were born. "

Then he added calmly, looking into my eyes.
“In case you’re having funny ideas, there are only two bullets in that gun. And my guys will waste you in a second.”

He walked away briskly and then commanded me to get up.

I stood up gently and caressed the gun. Kalu's eyes were filled with pain and agony. I could see it clearly this man is wounded in the soul.

As the silence stretched, he pulled one of the women closer.

“I want to fvck this girl right now,” he said calmly. “If you don’t shoot him in the head before I cum, my guys have permission to drop you.”

I looked at the gun.
Then I looked at Kalu.

Maybe it's time to help him end his miserable existence. I closed my eyes shut and raised the gun.



To be continued.

EPISODE 61 – The Wrong Bet.

We were in the yard when the fourth guy in our cell walked up to me. His name is Kano.

He stood in front of me and asked calmly, “Where that warder carry you go last night?” He nodded his head in the direction of Warder Agoro, who was standing guard at that time.

I looked at his face without answering.

“I hear when him open our cell,” he continued. “I hear when him call your name. I see am when you follow am go out. I see when him bring you back.”

I was shocked to hear that. At first, I thought he might have found a way to follow us, but I quickly waved that thought aside.

I didn't want to show any sign of fear, so I shrugged.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, ogbeni.”

He shook his head. “No try deny this one. You get deal with the warder. Sha tell me make I join una clique. I don tire for Presido make him dey boss me around anyhow.”

As he talked, I focused on his mouth, just staring at it, maintaining my steeze.

“I said I didn’t go anywhere,” I said firmly.

“You go somewhere,” he insisted.

“Back off,” I warned.

But he didn’t. He kept on talking.

I began to look for ways to discharge this fool before he made my life miserable again. Because if Kano started talking about me having secret meetings with warders, people would start watching me. In this place, suspicion is like a death sentence. Someone could even connect me to Black Mamba’s death. I didn’t need that kind of attention, especially when I was just days away from freedom—if Aristotle kept his word once the news of Black Mamba’s death reached him.

But Kano refused to let it go.
After too much pestering, I decided to give him something. So I lied.
“You know what,” I said, tapping him gently. “He took me to smoke.”

His face lit up like he just won a lottery. For a second, I was glad he believed me.

Then suddenly, he frowned. “That one na lie.”

“How?” I asked.

“When one guy dash you cigarette inside yard one day, you tell am say you no dey smoke. See your lips sef,” he pointed at my lips. “Your lips no look like person wey dey smoke. Smokers no dey get pink lips.”

“Dey play. My own pink lips na follow come,” I argued, but this guy still didn’t believe it.

I sighed loudly.
I didn’t know what else to say until the god of thunder whispered to me:
“Son, tell him you are gay. That you and the warder went to have sex.”

It was a stupid idea when it dropped into my head. But it was the only thing that popped into my brain at that moment.
“You see, Kano, make I no lie for you… I be gay… confirm one. Me and that warder get deal. If I open yansh for him, he go dey help me with small small protection and other stuffs… so na why me and him sneak out yesterday because that… shey you—”

I barely finished before he leaned into my ear and whispered,

“How much you go take for one round?”

Join the telegram channel for continuation...

Episodes 1 - 41 is available for free on my Facebook page Darousmart Library .

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I want everyone to have a fair chance to access my Telegram channel, whether you have money or not. Here’s how:

💎 Option 1: Paid Access
- Subscription fee: ₦1,000 for 10 episodes.
- You get instant access, and new episodes will drop consistently — at least one every day.
- If you join after the first 10 episodes, you’ll pay ₦1,000 for episodes 42–51, then another ₦1,000 for episodes 52 onwards.
- This way, it’s fair for everyone — both early readers and those joining later.

I’m doing this so I can keep giving you high‑quality writing, tension, humour, emotions, and the kind of storytelling you’ve been enjoying.
If you’ve truly loved this story so far… if you want to keep following Darous, Tiffany, Kalu, Kenny, and The Circle mystery… then I believe this support won’t be too much.

Payment details: Check my signature for payment details.

Send your payment screenshot via WhatsApp, and you’ll receive the Telegram link instantly.

🌍 Option 2: Free Access Through Support
For those who don’t have money, you can still join by supporting my work:
- Go to my Facebook page @darousmart library
- Follow the page
- Share and like at least 20 of the previous episodes
- Then message me on WhatsApp, and I’ll send you the telegram link directly.

Whether you choose paid access or free support, you’ll still be part of this journey. Thank you for reading, for sharing, and for supporting my craft. Let’s continue this adventure together ❤️

EPISODE 60 – No Echoes.

Throughout the remainder of the night, one thought refused to leave my mind.
Who is Black Mamba’s daughter?
Who is she?

The only face that kept appearing in my head — the one that seventy percent matched the details Black Mamba gave me — was Tiffany.

But that didn’t make sense to me at the time. Because
Tiffany told me her father died six years ago, although she never said which prison.

Black Mamba on the other hand, said he was transferred from Ikoyi prison to Kirikiri because he couldn’t allow his daughter to find out he was still alive.
Could it be Tiffany?

“It’s not possible,” I told myself again and again. “It’s not adding up.”

I would have asked him more questions if not for the situation that didn’t allow it.
Now I was stuck with these mind-boggling thoughts running through my head.

I later decided the memory card would answer everything. Whenever I finally got to watch it, the truth would show itself.

The following morning, the name Black Mamba was everywhere — spreading faster from one prisoner’s lips to the next.

“If a man wey get power like Black Mamba fit die cheap like Christmas chicken, den anybody fit kpai for here...this life sef tire person.”

Those were the exact words of A.K, my cellmate, when the news reached our cell.

By the time we lined up for headcount, everybody already knew Black Mamba was dead.

There were whispers too — some men claiming it was a clean hit from another gang that specialised in taking out high-profile prisoners.

As if he was waiting for that opportunity, one guy who had recently declared himself a pastor stood up that morning.

According to him, Black Mamba’s death was a sign from God.
He said it was time for us to draw closer to heaven.
Time to stop smoking.
Time to stop betting.
Time to “repent properly.”
The problem was not his message.

The problem was timing.
His sermon didn’t even reach five hundred words before men descended on him.
They tore his Bible like exam papers.
Shoved the pages into his mouth.

Nobody tried to save him.
Even heaven understood that morning was not for preaching.

Join the telegram channel for continuation...

Episodes 1 - 41 is available for free on my Facebook page Darousmart Library .

Join My Telegram Channel for the continuations– Two Easy Options!

I want everyone to have a fair chance to access my Telegram channel, whether you have money or not. Here’s how:

💎 Option 1: Paid Access
- Subscription fee: ₦1,000 for 10 episodes.
- You get instant access, and new episodes will drop consistently — at least one every day.
- If you join after the first 10 episodes, you’ll pay ₦1,000 for episodes 42–51, then another ₦1,000 for episodes 52 onwards.
- This way, it’s fair for everyone — both early readers and those joining later.

I’m doing this so I can keep giving you high‑quality writing, tension, humour, emotions, and the kind of storytelling you’ve been enjoying.
If you’ve truly loved this story so far… if you want to keep following Darous, Tiffany, Kalu, Kenny, and The Circle mystery… then I believe this support won’t be too much.

Payment details: Contact me on WhatsApp for that.

Send your payment screenshot via WhatsApp, and you’ll receive the Telegram link instantly.

🌍 Option 2: Free Access Through Support
For those who don’t have money, you can still join by supporting my work:
- Go to my Facebook page @darousmart library
- Follow the page
- Share and like at least 20 of the previous episodes
- Then message me on WhatsApp, and I’ll send you the telegram link directly.

Whether you choose paid access or free support, you’ll still be part of this journey. Thank you for reading, for sharing, and for supporting my craft. Let’s continue this adventure together ❤️

Episode 60.

We are here moving...

EPISODE 59 – Wrong Floor.

Tiffany dropped the phone and went straight into the bathroom inside her room. What the detective had just announced shattered her heart into broken pieces.
She turned on the shower and stood under it, fully clothed, letting the water run over her head as the tears came. She didn’t try to stop them. Her body shook quietly as everything she had seen that day replayed in her mind.
“Oh, poor Lana,” she cursed and sobbed gently.

The way Lana had forced herself to endure Perry’s inhumane treatment, just to buy time for her husband to get them out alive.

The way Kalu had been tied up too, watching helplessly, unable to do anything. And how, after everything, Lana still didn’t survive.

It was the most horrible thing Tiffany had ever witnessed — and that was saying a lot for someone who had watched her own father die in the waiting room at Ikoyi Prison.

She stayed there for a long time, until the water turned cold and her chest stopped racing.

She couldn’t let Naomi see her like this.
The girl had already seen too much.

Tiffany wiped her face, changed her clothes, and went into the sitting room.
Naomi was asleep on the chair.

Her small body was curled up awkwardly, tear stains still visible on her cheeks. Exhaustion had finally dragged her into sleep.

Tiffany lifted her carefully and carried her into the bedroom. She laid her on the bed, adjusted the pillow, and covered her gently.
“You’re safe now, little one,” she whispered, even though the girl couldn’t hear.

After that, Tiffany went to the guest room.

She stood at the door for a moment before opening it, hoping — almost praying — that Darous’ things were still there. That he hadn’t taken her words seriously the night she had told him to get out.

She opened the door.

Join the telegram channel for continuation...

Episodes 1 - 41 is available for free on my Facebook page Darousmart Library .

Join My Telegram Channel for the continuations– Two Easy Options!

I want everyone to have a fair chance to access my Telegram channel, whether you have money or not. Here’s how:

💎 Option 1: Paid Access
- Subscription fee: ₦1,000 for 10 episodes.
- You get instant access, and new episodes will drop consistently — at least one every day.
- If you join after the first 10 episodes, you’ll pay ₦1,000 for episodes 42–51, then another ₦1,000 for episodes 52 onwards.
- This way, it’s fair for everyone — both early readers and those joining later.

I’m doing this so I can keep giving you high‑quality writing, tension, humour, emotions, and the kind of storytelling you’ve been enjoying.
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EPISODE 58 – BLACK MAMBA.

He pointed to the chair behind the cell bar.

“Sit, son. We don’t have much time.”

I sat down gently with eyes fixed on him.

For a moment, he just looked at me. It felt like he was calculating something—like he was trying to decide if I was worth the trouble I'm putting him through.

“Son, listen to me carefully.” he said.

I didn't talk at all. My brain was still buffering at that time.

“You are a good kid,” he continued. “It’s just unfortunate that it took this long, and this kind of situation, for us to meet.”

That got my attention.

“There are only a few people who found out I’m still alive. And sooner or later, I knew they would want me dead.”

That raised a question inside my mind.
“And why would anyone think you’re dead, sir?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “let’s just say I once faked my own death.”

I opened my mouth in shock.

“Sorry for my questions,” I said, rubbing my palms together, “but why would you fake your own death?”

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EPISODE 57 – When Love Bleeds.


Perry watched as Tiffany bent over the chair and began to untie the little girl quickly.
The child’s head dropped to the side, sleep and shock still weighing her down.
Perry didn’t bother about them at all
He knew they were not an imminent threat.
He spat on the floor and slowly tilted his head, like a man listening to music from a long distance. His eyes drifted to the gun lying just a few feet away.

Kalu saw it at the same time.
“Damn it!” Kalu shouted, dragging himself forward on one elbow.

Perry moved faster.
His hand stretched out, fingers closing around the gun with the calmness of a professional assassin.

Kalu froze on the spot for a second.
Because Perry didn’t point the gun at him. It was instead aimed at Lana.

Perry then smiled faintly.
“I told you,” he said softly, almost politely. “Your wife first before I kill you.....”

Without thinking twice, Kalu pushed himself off the floor with every strength he had left and slammed into Perry before the man could pull the trigger.

They crashed to the ground together.
The gun slid away for the second time that night.
Perry grunted but recovered instantly. He drove his elbow hard into Kalu’s ribs. Kalu gasped but refused to let go. He wrapped both arms around Perry and rolled, smashing Perry’s head against the floor.
Perry laughed.
Even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, he laughed.
“You’re strong,” Perry said, breathing hard. “But not strong enough.”

He twisted suddenly, using Kalu’s own weight against him. In one smooth movement, Perry broke free and slammed his knee into Kalu’s stomach. Kalu folded, coughing, air rushing out of him.
Perry didn’t wait.
He grabbed Kalu by the shirt and threw him into a metal shelf. The shelf collapsed with a loud crash, tools scattering everywhere.

“Lana!” Kalu shouted, forcing himself up. “Get out of here now!”

Lana shook her head violently, tears pouring down her face.
“I’m not leaving you!” she screamed back. “I won’t!”

“Please!” Kalu yelled. “Please, go!”
She took one step forward instead and stayed.

Perry picked up a light metal rod from the floor and swung it. Kalu raised his arm just in time. The rod smashed into his forearm, pain exploding through it, but he held on. He charged again, head lowered, tackling Perry into the wall.
They struggled violently.
Punches landed. Elbows flew. Bodies slammed into the broken bed stand.

Kalu managed to land a solid punch on Perry’s jaw. Perry staggered back a step, wiping blood from his mouth again.

His eyes hardened now.
“That was a mistake,” he said.

"You fight like a pro....but I'll end you..." Perry said as he spat blood on the floor again. He then began to move differently now.

He ducked Kalu’s next swing and struck him behind the knee. Kalu fell. Before he could recover, Perry stomped on his chest, knocking the breath out of him.
Kalu quickly rolled away just as Perry bent to pick up the gun again.

“No!” Kalu shouted, scrambling forward but he was too late.



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EPISODE 56 – Behind The Frail Face.



Tiffany didn’t look back as she drove out fast after hearing the last gunshot.
Not even once.

She drove like someone running away from fire. Her eyes stayed glued to the road, even though tears kept flooding them. The bush road shook under her tyres as she sped through it, branches scraping the sides of the car like hands trying to pull her back.

Behind her, Naomi cried.

“Mummy… mummy…”
The word cut through Tiffany’s chest like a knife.

“I’m here,” Tiffany cried back through her own sobs. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”
But even as she said it, she didn’t know what she even meant anymore.

She burst out of the bush and onto the main road, tyres screeching slightly as she swerved. Streetlights appeared.
That was when she finally broke.
She screamed.
A raw, painful sound that came from deep inside her chest. She cried openly now, her shoulders shaking as she drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other wiping tears that refused to stop coming.
Everything that had happened in the hour crashed into her at once.
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Episode 55 – After The Pit

Time didn’t move inside the Pit.

Or maybe it did, but it just moved without bothering to take me along.

There was no sun to announce morning. No darkness to announce night. Just one long stretch of nothingness that felt endless. My breathing became the only proof that I was still alive.

The first few days were brutal, to be honest.

My eyes stayed open most of the time, desperate to see something—anything—but they saw nothing. It was absolute blackness. The kind that presses against your face, crawls into your head, and makes you wonder if you’ll ever see again.

And then there was the issue of the smell that never changed.

Rot. Dampness. The scent of human waste.

The floor was always wet. Sometimes cold, sometimes sticky.

Pain became a language my body spoke fluently.

My back stayed bent like it had forgotten how to stand straight. My legs cramped constantly. My neck felt like it would snap if I stretched it the wrong way.

Sleep only came in fragments. Ten minutes here. Twenty there. Pain always woke me up right on schedule, like it had an alarm clock.

They served me food and water only once a day. They pushed the tray through the little opening underneath the door and closed it once I pushed the previous plate out. After a while, hunger stopped screaming. It just sat quietly inside me, like a reminder that my body hadn’t given up yet.

The silence did more damage than the hunger ever could.

In that darkness, your mind doesn’t rest. It only attacks. Again and again and again.

Clark’s face kept showing up each time I let my mind rest a little.

The look in his eyes.
The way his fingers grabbed my green shirt.
The moment life slipped out of him all of a sudden.

I kept replaying his lips moving.

“Dar… Dar… ous…”

What was he trying to say to me?

Was it a warning? Or a thank you?

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Episode 54 - A Moment Too Late.

When I turned around quickly to steal a look at the crowd's darling, Black Mamba, he was the direct opposite of anything my mind had been thinking since I first heard his name.

He wasn't the thick-necked, dark, heavily built demon I had imagined all this while.

Not the kind of man you see and immediately understand why people fear him.

No.

Black Mamba was an old man. Early sixties, at most. Bald head shining under the scorching sun. White beards that looked like they had given up on life a long time ago. Roughly kept. Clothes hanging loosely on him. His body looked tired and weary.

The kind of man you’d expect to see struggling to climb a bus step — not a man whose name could freeze grown men mid-sentence.

That was all my brain could gather before another inmate shoved me hard from behind.

“Move jor!”
As if I was standing in front of the television at home.

I stumbled forward and kept moving. But my mind didn’t move with my body. It stayed right there — stuck on that old man.

So this is Black Mamba?
Life really knows how to mock your expectations.

Back in my cell, I received the kind of welcome I never imagined would ever happen to me in prison.

I was treated like royalty.

Presido brought out some crumpled notes and flashed them proudly.

He patted my cheeks like a proud father.

“Now I fit buy anything wey I wan buy because of you,” he said, grinning.
“You be real Geeee.”

Even A.K couldn’t stop rubbing my shoulders like I had just won a Grammy.

Nobody cared that my whole body was aching. Bruises everywhere. Pains that made breathing feel like hard work. To be sincere, Clark really gave me a heavy beating. Make ah no lie.

Clark himself was lying weakly on the floor, staring into space. The kick I gave him on the head to knock him out earlier was clearly still disturbing his brain. He kept fuming quietly, like a generator running low on fuel.

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EPISODE 53 – Before The Trigger

The silence that followed the end of that call was worse than the threat itself.

Tiffany’s counting slowed down a bit.

“Two thousand, nine hundred and forty-one…”

Each number felt like a hammer slamming into Kalu’s chest.

Perry noticed the slowing immediately.

He walked over and slapped her across the cheeks.

The sound echoed in the room.

Tiffany cried out softly as her head snapped to the side. Blood filled her mouth. Her lip had split.

“Continue counting, my friend…!” Perry thundered.

She nodded rapidly and continued, tears and sweat dripping down her face.

“Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-two… thirty-three…”

Kalu looked at his wife.

Her eyes were locked on his. Pure red, swollen, and begging—without a single spoken word.

His stomach twisted violently.

Naomi was still half-asleep on the chair. Her head leaned to the side, completely unaware that her father was standing at the edge of a decision no human being should ever face.

Tiffany tried to slow down again, stretching each number, breathing hard between them—probably doing her best to give Kalu enough time to think of a way out of the situation.

“Two thousand, nine hundred and sixty-three…”

Perry, meanwhile, looked very excited.

This was his kind of moment—control, fear, and power.

A certified psychopath to the core—one who treated cruelty like an academic discipline, as if he had graduated top of his class from the Global University for Psychopathy.



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BONUS EPSIODE.


EPISODE 52 – The Devil’s Bargain


The room went dead still after the distorted voice spoke.

Only Lana’s muffled crying broke the silence. Naomi’s shaky breathing followed it. Then the low, irritating hum of the solar bulb, buzzing like it enjoyed the fear going on in the room.

Kalu sat tied to the chair, his chest rising and falling fast, like his heart was trying to break out of his chest.

Tiffany, on the other hand, sat on the edge of the bed, hands shaking, eyes wide and lost — like an animal that already knew how it would die. Her lips trembled as she counted out loud, the stupid one-two-three classwork the gunman gave her.

“…two hundred and four…” she counted on.

Kalu’s voice came out soft. Broken and pleading.

“Please… whoever you are… I’m begging you. Just let my wife and my child go. They have nothing to do with this. Nothing. You can do whatever you want with me. Anything. I’m begging you… just let—”

“Will you shut up there?”

The voice snapped through the phone, cold and sharp.

“Please… I’m just begging you—”

“Hey, you. Perry,” the voice called out to the gunman.
“Shoot his wife in the leg if he opens that mouth again.”

“Yes, sir!” Perry’s reply came fast.

Perry raised the gun and aimed it at Lana, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. Her shaking doubled instantly. The sight of the gun alone felt like it punched the air out of her chest.

Perry stood there calmly — phone in one hand, gun in the other — like this was just another normal day at work.

Then the voice continued.

“Detective Kalu… remember we warned you. We told you to stay away from us. But you didn’t listen. So tell me now… what exactly is your problem? Why are you chasing us like a stubborn stray dog that refuses to die?”

Kalu clenched his teeth and bit down on his lips.

The voice scoffed.

“You know what annoys me the most? We have bought almost every law enforcement agency in this country. Police. DSS. Customs. Immigration. EFCC. Even judges.”

There was a short pause.

“But somehow… somehow… you are the only one behaving like this is some personal vendetta against us. Like we slept with your wife or stole your family inheritance.”

Another pause.

“You invaded our place. You killed our men. Detective, what exactly do you want? Tell me…”
The voice dropped lower.
“Is it money?”

Kalu didn’t respond. He was using his brain to search for every possible way out of the delicate situation he had found himself in. He needed to be careful — one wrong move could get his wife and child killed. He didn’t even care what happened to him. All that mattered was getting his family out alive.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” the voice snapped, pulling Kalu out of his thoughts. “Or Perry will shoot your wife first… then make you sleep with her corpse… before ending your daughter.”

Perry shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the gun.

That was when Kalu swallowed hard.

“I don’t want your money,” he said. "I don't need it.."

“Not money, right? Good.”
The voice sounded amused now.
“Let’s try something else. You want promotion? Is that it?”

“No,” Kalu replied, his lips barely moving as his eyes continued scanning the room.

“No?”
A dry laugh came through the speaker.
“Then what? What exactly do you want?”

Kalu spat on the floor.

“You can’t give me what I want.”

The laughter that followed was louder. Heavier. Dangerous.

“Detective Kalu… we have all the money in the world. Politicians beg us. Your seniors bow to us. Some of them even pray before calling our names. There is nothing we cannot do in this world. And when I say nothing, I mean nothing at all.”

Kalu shook his head slowly.

“Not everyone wants your ill-gotten money. I don’t need anything from you. Just let my wife and child go… please.”

“Hmmm.”

The sound crawled through the room.

“You want your wife and child safe?”

“Yes… please,” Kalu stressed painfully.

“Well… honestly, I have no personal problem with them. God sees my heart. But you are stubborn. Very stubborn. Do you know the mess you created the last time you invaded one of our locations? You killed our agents!”

The voice hardened.

“What do you think the wives and children of those men feel when they hear their fathers are dead? That their fathers will never walk through the gate again? Tell me, Detective… what should they feel?”

Kalu stayed quiet.

His breathing was heavy. Lana was exhausted from crying. She was no longer sobbing — just hiccupping weakly. Naomi had fallen asleep on the chair, her small body finally giving up. Tiffany was still counting quietly, lost somewhere between obeying the command given to her and pure fear.

It was a painful sight.

Perry readjusted his grip on the gun and phone as the voice continued.

“Do you know the trouble I went through just to finally find you? Do you know the trouble I put my people through just to finally get you by the balls? Imagine that. All that stress… just for you. Only you, Kalu.”

“I’m sorry… just let my family go,” Kalu pleaded again, his voice shaking.

The voice gave a small laugh.

“Detective… you are sorry? You don’t have a reason to be sorry yet. But honestly, I want to understand something. I really need to know.”

Kalu’s eyes stayed fixed on the mirror. He caught sight of the broken razor lying at the bottom of it — just a stretch away from where his chair was positioned.

“I want to know why you are so determined to destroy our network. Why you are willing to burn everything down just to get to us.”

“Because you people are monsters,” Kalu blurted out in pure anger.

The voice laughed.

“Monsters? We are not monsters. We change lives. We help people. We create opportunities. We’ve lifted many families out of poverty.”

Kalu let out a bitter laugh.

“Like you helped my brother hang himself?”

The phone went silent.

Kalu continued.

“Or like you helped my late sister get justice after she was raped by that bastard?”

His voice rose, anger escorting every word like a bouncer.

“Anyone that doesn’t do your bidding ends up either dead or broken. So tell me… how is that helping people?”

Silence again.

Longer this time.

Then the voice returned.

“What are you talking about, Detective?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” Kalu lashed out. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how you ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life?” the voice replied lightly. “Oh, come on. How? Make me understand.”

Kalu held his breath. He realized he might need to approach the softer side of these wicked people if he wanted his wife and child alive. He forced himself to speak.

“When I was still a little boy, my elder brother was all I had left. You people started pressuring him. Threatening him.”

“Threatening him?” the voice replied. “Then he must have done something wrong. This is a network of intellectuals. We don’t just act out of wickedness.”

Kalu snapped.

“My sister was raped,” he said. “Battered until she slipped into a coma.”

His voice shook, but he didn’t stop.

“You people helped the bastard who did it escape justice. My sister suffered for three months… then she died.”

The room grew heavier.

“My brother couldn’t let it go. He started digging. Asking questions. Looking for answers.”

Kalu swallowed hard.

“That was when you people came for him. Day by day. Breaking him down slowly. Until he couldn’t take it anymore…
He hanged himself.”

Perry smiled as he heard that.
The reason for that smile, nobody could tell.

Tiffany was still counting the stupid classwork she had been given, but her body was shaking badly now.

“We went to the police. We went everywhere,” Kalu continued. “But your people stepped in. The case disappeared. The boy traveled abroad. My sister was left with shame, pain, and nightmares she couldn’t wake up from.”

Kalu’s voice dropped.

“We had already lost our parents in 1991 to a car accident. So after everything… I was alone. My life never returned to normal after that.”

The voice came back gently now. Almost apologetic.

“Detective… those things may have happened. But they happened under a different leadership. Another era. Another head of the network. That is the past. You should have let it go.”

Kalu shook his head stubbornly.

“No,” he said sharply. “Past or present, the Circle is the Circle. Same system. Same rot. Same blood on your hands. You ruined my life.”

“And you killed our men. Don’t forget that. You killed four of our men. And if what you said is true, we were only responsible for only the death of two of your family members.”

The phone went quiet for a moment.

Then the voice returned, calmer than before.

“Now, Detective… let’s make this simple. Like I told you earlier, we are a very reasonable organisation...okay? I can say I was even touched by your childhood trauma...In a way, I feel somehow responsible...but it's what it is. Sh1t happens in life....So let's settle this in a mathematical way....."

Tiffany sneezed in that short silent but tensive moment.

The voice then continued.
" We were responsible for the death of two of your family members right? But you killed four of our men. That's four minus two...which means you owe us two lives....So let’s settle the score this way.”

Kalu felt his heartbeat rise.

“Choose who you want to save. Your wife… or your daughter.”

The words dropped into the room like a loaded gun.

“No… no… no…” Kalu said, shaking his head wildly. “I won’t choose. I won’t.” His voice cracked.
“If you want someone dead, kill me. I’m right here. Leave my wife and child alone. They have nothing to do with this.”

The phone stayed quiet for another second.

Then the voice replied.

“Your own life already belonged to us the day you decide to come after us....so you are already on the list. All you need to do is choose just one person between your wife and child to accompany you on the journey to the afterlife."

" I said I won't choose between them..." Kali said defiantly. His breathing now running very fast.

The voice let out a small chuckle. " If you refuse to choose, then it means none of them matters to you. I'm only giving you this opportunity because I'm touched by your story...so don't make me regret my decision...If you don't choose, we will kill both of them… and well, happy family reunion in the afterlife.”

Kalu’s heart dropped into his stomach.

Lana’s body stiffened immediately. Her eyes widened in pure terror. She tried to scream, but the sound came out muffled, trapped behind the gag. Tears poured down her face, soaking the cloth in her mouth.

Tiffany froze on the bed. Her counting stopped.

She was already on two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two.

Perry stepped forward instantly and pointed the gun at her head.

“Continue!” Perry said sharply.

Tiffany flinched and resumed, her voice shaking.

“Two....two...thousand, nine hundred and twenty-three…”

The phone crackled.
“What’s that?” the voice asked calmly.

Perry tilted his head slightly.

“I told the other lady to count from one to one million,” he replied casually.

A soft chuckle came from the other end.

“Perfect. What number is she on now?”

Perry glanced at Tiffany.

“Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty.”

“Good,” the voice said. “Let her continue. If she reaches three thousand, and the detective still hasn’t chosen who lives or dies — shoot the wife. Shoot the daughter. Then shoot the detective last, so he can watch his world crumble before him.”

The voice laughed wickedly, then added, “But if he decides to pick… whoever he chooses gets to live. Just make sure you still kill the detective and send confirmation immediately it’s done.”

Kalu felt his chest collapse.

“Is that clear, Perry?” the voice asked.

“Yes, sir,” Perry replied with a wide grin.

“Perfect. Call me when it’s done.”

The line went dead.



To be continued


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EPISODE 51 – Home Is Not Safe.



My body was hot, sore, and stiff, like I had been used to mix concrete instead of using a shovel. Every place Clark touched earlier was now reporting itself. Ribs. Shoulder. Back. Even places I didn’t know could feel pain were sending their complaints.

Sleep finally caught me somewhere in the middle of the night.
Not because I was comfortable, but because the pain in my body eventually got tired. Or let me say my body simply got used to the pain.

I slept sitting, head leaning against the wall, waking up every few minutes like someone suffering from sleepless-night syndrome. Like Lady Morgana in Merlin, only without magical powers and with more pain.

Eventually, morning came the way prison morning always comes.

No sunrise through the window. No gentle light from the bed stand. Just noise and pure insults.

Iron doors banged open. Boots hit the floor. Keys clanged like the warders were happy to be alive — and angry at the same time.

“You na think say na hotel you dey? Wake up there!”

Let's talk about prison morning routine that doesn’t care about your injuries. It doesn’t care about your pains. And more importantly, it doesn’t care about your feelings at all.

You wake up. You line up. You get counted. Then counted again because the system do not trust one warder to count well. Another one has to recount, just for assurance. Human beings reduced to numbers that still somehow confuse the system they put in place.

After all the counting, duties start.

Sweeping the corridor. Scrubbing the floor. Fetching water. Carrying buckets. Carrying cement.
Anything that needs carrying, they will find a human being to carry it.

And bathing?

Ah.

Bathing is not just ordinary bathing.
Bathing is another survival world entirely.

We queued with small buckets and rubber cups. Everybody n*ked like goats at a slaughterhouse.

You must not look too much. You must not stare — especially not at the big guys with dreadful looks. All you must do is wash fast-fast and move out of the way. And most importantly, don’t you ever bend down to pick anything from the floor, because in the voice of Very Dark Man, you gon learn, and you'll learn the hard way.

Using soap is optional but speed is compulsory.


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Episode 51. Join the telegram group now...

EPISODE 50 – WHAT THE DARKNESS WAS HIDING

A new cell. A familiar name. And a past that refuses to stay buried. When Darous comes face-to-face with Clark—Toyosi’s dangerous ex and a ghost from the Circle’s bloody history—words quickly turn into fists inside a prison cell ruled by silent kings and watching warders. As survival becomes the only language that matters, power shifts, lines are drawn, and invisibility dies. But just when the night seems contained behind iron bars, another darkness opens its door—where Kalu walks into a horror no father should ever see. Two locations. One episode. And a truth that proves some nightmares don’t wait for daylight.

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EPISODE 49 – Inside These Walls.

The first night inside Kirikiri did something to my soul.

People think prison is just “you can’t go out.” Or the endless restrictions.
No.
The real torture is that time stops respecting you. Like it stops giving you complete regard. It doesn’t give a fvcking dime how you’re feeling at all. Time no send your papa once you enter that God-forbid place.

Minutes drag on.
Hours stretch like rubber.
Every sound feels louder.
Every breath feels borrowed.

Freedom suddenly becomes something you can smell from far away but can never touch again.
Like a very delicious stew you only perceive from your neighbour’s pot when you’re fasting.

The walls press your chest.
The air tastes different — heavy, recycled, and tired.
And the silence between the noise?
That one is the worst.
It feels like somebody locked you inside your own thoughts.

I sat in my tiny corner of Cell C-12, hugging myself, pretending like I was invisible. Like I didn’t even exist at all. My plan was simple: follow every step Michael Scofield took during his first days in Prison Break. Avoid people like Abruzzi and T-Bag at all costs.

But of course… despite all my dedication to stay hidden,
they still noticed me.

The big one — the gorilla-chested man at the back — finally stood up.

When he stood, the whole cell adjusted to the gravitational force around his weight.
Even the air paused.

Dark, tall, thick, with a chest like he personally designed it to intimidate people.
His voice?
Deep enough to wake Lazarus.

He walked up to me slowly, his footsteps heavy… like an armoured tank.

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We now on episode 49 on our telegram group..

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EPISODE 48 – Something Is Wrong Inside.

The first thing I learned about Kirikiri the moment the van stopped was simple:

The gate is not just for decoration.
It is a warning.

Tall, thick, heavy — like demons doing side hustle were the ones that welded it together.
Two guards stood there with faces that looked like they hadn’t smiled since the military era.

The van door opened.
My heart used style to step out of my chest, walked to the gate, inspected the place, came back and whispered:

“Omo… Darous, better behave yourself.”

Two warders dragged me down.

No “sorry.”
Nor even a “take it easy.”
Just drag-and-drop like I was a bag of cement.

They marched me into the reception area — where new inmates are processed.

The smell hit me like a straight jab.

Sweat.
Disinfectant.
Fear.
And one stubborn smell that refused to introduce itself.

An officer with potbelly checked my file.
He shook his head slowly, like my existence will affect his promotion.

“Follow me.”

And we began the journey.

One long corridor.
Then another.
Then another.
At some point, I wondered if the place had turned to Third Mainland Bridge extension.

My slippers kept making noise:

Slap. Slap. Slap.

As if they were mocking me personally.

Inside my head I kept whispering:

“Don’t panic. Don’t shake. Remember the mission.”

But my body?
My body was vibrating like a small generator suffering from bad plug.

Then they pushed me into a large hall.

The noise almost knocked courage out of my chest.

Inmates everywhere — talking, arguing, laughing like drunk spirits.
One guy singing to himself.
Another pacing like a lion with family issues.
Two men were playing draught with the seriousness of people choosing Nigeria’s next president.

But the one that caught my eye…
Kai.

This man looked like the final boss of mortal kombat.
Scars everywhere and a face that looked like it was carved in frustration.

A warder shouted:

“NEW INMATE! STAND THERE!”

He pointed at a red line on the floor.

I stood there like a confused statue.

They searched me from head to toe.
Collected everything — clothes, slippers and my wristwatch

Then they handed me green trousers and shirt that smelled like Lukaku wore it to run marathon under hot sun.

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‎(You get access instantly, and new episodes will drop consistently — at least one every day.)
‎
‎🔹 If you join when the episodes have passed 10,
‎
‎you’ll pay ₦1000 for epsiode 42 - 51.
‎
‎Then another 1000, for episodes 52 onwards.
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‎This way, it’s fair for everyone — both early readers and those joining later.
‎
‎I’m doing this so I can keep giving you high-quality writing, tension, humour, emotions, and the kind of storytelling you’ve been enjoying.
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‎If you’ve truly loved this story so far…
‎If you want to keep following Darous, Tiffany, Kalu, Kenny, and The Circle mystery…
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‎Thank you for understanding.
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EPISODE 47 – Price Of Obedience.


The drive to the Third Mainland Underpass wasn’t smooth.
We hit like three different hold-ups before we reached halfway.
While I was busy stressing over the mission ahead, Kenny’s call entered my phone for the ninth time.

Ninth.

My patience was already hanging on one invisible thread.

I hissed, squeezed my eyes shut, I finally picked.

The moment the line connected, he didn’t even pause.

“You dey craze, Darous!? So you just dey decline my calls like I be one beggar? You think say you don blow abi!? You no fit help your own brother!?”

I closed my eyes. “Kenny, calm down. This thing wey you wan do—”

“Shut up there!” he barked. “You dey form sensible person but you be pure coward! Coward!! Ordinary help I ask you, you dey do like say na your destiny I wan borrow. You no get small pity for eyes at all?”

“Kenny, I’m telling you again — you can’t join these people. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“Oh! So you don dey see future now abi? You don turn prophet?” he snapped. “You think say ah no know your plan? You no wan see me rise. Na why you dey talk nonsense. You don dey fear say I go pass you. Na why you dey block my blessings. Wicked soul!”

I rubbed my forehead. “Kenny, listen—”

“NO! YOU LISTEN!” His voice shook the whole car. Even the Uber driver adjusted his mirror like he wanted to mind the gossip.

“You’re a useless friend,” Kenny spat. “Heartless. You dey watch me suffer. But no worry… God go judge you. In fact—”
he paused, hissed loudly,
“—you’re going straight to hell. Straight. Na me talk am.”

That one touched my nerve.

I kept quiet for two seconds, then said calmly:

“Hey listen, Angel Kenny… the only way I’ll enter hell before you is if they call our names in alphabetical order.”

Silence.
The Uber driver almost choked on his own breath.

Before Kenny could reorganise his madness and respond, I ended the call.

Blocked the line.

Sat back.



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