₦airaland Forum

ghettochild:
I am even thinking of writing to a South African movie production company and tell them about you. Maybe they’d be willing to work on ur stories.. past and present

🙏🙏🙏

Concluding part of Episode 33.



Tiffany sat quietly at the back seat of Detective Kalu’s Camry, her face half resting on the window glass, watching buildings rush by as she drowned herself in deep thoughts.

Her hair was rough — the kind of rough that no comb could fix in one sitting. It screamed “I slept in a police station, and yes, I’ve suffered.”

Kalu hadn’t said a word since they entered the car. Just kept driving, eyes fixed on the road, his jaw tight like someone chewing memories instead of gum.

They had driven for more than ten minutes after Tiffany had given him directions to her house. The silence was too heavy, so she finally spoke.

“Detective,” she said slowly, “how are you so sure my boyfriend… is working for this criminal group that wants to destroy your family?”

Kalu gave a short, dry laugh — the kind that carries more pain than humour.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “But you’ll have to promise me one thing — you’ll help me convince your boyfriend to cooperate."

" Cooperate to what?" She asked curiously.

"To work with me...That’s if he even makes it out of that place alive.”

Tiffany frowned. “Wait… what do you mean if? Are you saying he’s in danger right now?”

“Yes,” Kalu said calmly, eyes still on the road. “But I think he’s a smart guy. And they know it too. He’s an asset to them… so maybe they won’t kill him. Maybe not yet sha.”

Tiffany’s voice cracked. “What kind of asset are you talking about? You’re not saying my boyfriend is a cultist or a criminal, are you? Because I don’t believe that.”

Kalu sighed. “Tiffany, you were there that night at the party — when that guy was shot. You remember how your boyfriend described everything that happened, down to the tiniest detail? Things no one else even noticed?” He glanced at her briefly. “Tell me, how could he possibly see and hear all that in that noisy environment? Ordinary people can’t do that. Your boyfriend and my late brother… they share the same gift. And that’s exactly why this organization is using him.”

Tiffany froze. Her mind jumped back to that dreadful night at Mrs. Adeoye’s event. The loud music. The laughter. Then — came the panic. She remembered how her boyfriend had stood there in front of everyone, explaining everything to this same detective — things even she didn’t notice even though she was right there.

Now it all started to make sense. Maybe the detective wasn’t lying after all. Then the G-Wagon rental issue flashed in her head — how she’d covered for him without asking too many questions. She had told herself it was love. And yes, she truly loved him. But maybe… just maybe… it was time to start asking questions.

“Okay...let's say you are right..." She finally said. " It still doesn't explain why you are letting me walk...”

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, then sighed. “This morning, I tracked your boyfriend to one mansion in Festac. I saw things, Tiffany. And before I could even understand what was happening, I had to fight my way out.”

She leaned forward. “Fight your way out?”

He nodded once. “Five men dead. Five armed men. I didn’t even go there to fight. I just went to confirm a suspicion.”

Tiffany swallowed hard. “And my boyfriend is…?”

He gave a tired smile. “Still inside that house. And the worst part? I lost my phone in that house. That phone has my family’s location. My wife and my daughter. I’ve been hiding them since she was born, because I know how wicked this organisation is. I can’t protect them if the world knows they exist under my name.”

Tiffany frowned. “But why hide your own family like that? Why make them live such a terrible life?”

He slowed the car a bit, his face softer now. “Tiffany, you are young... you haven't seen what I've seen.. These people are monsters. Very wicked set of people."

" You say this like you've had a personal encounter with them..."

Kalu thought for a brief second. Deciding whether or not to come clean. Then sighed deeply and began. "When I was a teenage boy, This organisation had already started playing games with my life. You see, they run things behind the curtains — politicians, police, business people, all of them. They make and unmake destinies like it’s a sport.”

He paused, his voice heavy.
“There was this rich man’s son — a spoilt animal — who molested my elder sister. We tried to fight, but they covered it up. They protected this boy because of his father's connection with them. Months later, my sister died as a result.”

Tiffany’s eyes dropped. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

He smirked and continued. “My brother had this special gift of paying attention to details, just like your boyfriend, so he picked up on his own investigation. They knew he was getting close to the truth, so they told my brother if he talked, I’d end up in a gutter.”
He gave a small nod, staring at the road like he could still see that memory playing out. “My brother Thomas — he was all I had left. He was the one feeding us, taking care of us after our parents died. This organisation came again. They said he’d seen too much, and if he didn’t cooperate, they’d make me pay with my own life for his stubbornness. They sent him threats, even letters. So one morning, I found him hanging in our living room.”

Tiffany’s face went still. She didn’t speak at first; her hand covered her mouth, and a slow, soft look crawled over her eyes.

His voice cracked. “Since that day, I promised myself — I’ll bring them down. I don’t care if it takes my life.”

The car was quiet again. Tiffany just stared at him through the rear-view mirror, searching his face for any sign of lies.

Then she said softly, “I... I still don't think my boyfriend has anything to do with such a wicked...”

Kalu turned to her for the first time since they started the drive. “You think I’m lying?”

“I’m just… trying to understand,” she said. “I've known Darous for some time now, and I don't think he's capable of working for such a wicked organisation...”

He nodded, expression unreadable. “Good. There's only one way to find out. Call your boyfriend now. Call Darous. Tell him to do a video call.”

Tiffany blinked. “Why?”

“Because if he picks and does the video call and he's not where I said he is,” Kalu said, “then I’m lying. And I’ll apologise right here. But if he doesn’t — if he doesn’t answer — then you’ll help me, Tiffany. You’ll convince him that we have to take these people down before they destroy us all.”

Tiffany stared at him, her hand hovering over her phone like it suddenly weighed a ton.
She looked out the window again, breathing slowly.

The street lights slid over her face, catching the fear in her eyes — and maybe, just maybe, a little curiosity too.

As she sat there, she began dialing her boyfriend’s number. She tried more than five times, yet the boy still didn’t pick up. She didn’t want the detective to think he was right, so she kept trying quietly — over and over — until she finally let out her frustration.

"What has this boy gotten himself into?” she muttered. She could already see traces of her own past playing out again — if there was any truth in what the detective said.

The detective caught that and smirked. “Do you believe me now?”

Tiffany didn’t answer. She stayed quiet all through, till they reached the gate of her estate.



To be Continued.

Drop your likes and comments. It's important. Start getting ready to move to my main page. @Darousmart Library

Continuation of Episode 33.


As Detective Kalu drove away from the lion’s den he just escaped from, his head was boiling like hot engine oil. The man couldn’t stop cursing himself for stepping into that compound in the first place. And then there was MTN — those people will never rest. Of all moments to send a “you’ve used 95% of your data” message, it had to be right when death was stretching its neck to greet him. What if that small nonsense will eventually cost him more than his life?

He didn’t even care about his own life anymore at that moment — not one bit.
What scared him most was the thought that his wife, Lana, and his little girl Naomi, plus the unborn baby she was carrying, might end up paying the price for his stupidity.

He kept replaying the words of his late brother and his wife in his head —

“Kalu, don’t take The Circle head-on. They’re not normal human beings.”

But no, the stubborn man refused to listen.
Now, the same phone they could use to trace his family was lying somewhere inside that cursed house.

He hit the steering hard and hissed, “Damn it!”

Out of frustration, he almost ran into one old woman crossing the road.
The woman slammed her hand on his bonnet and screamed,

“You wan kill me abi?! If I die, I go haunt you from the grave till your bald head grow dreadlocks!”

Kalu froze for a second, blinked — then drove off.

He was shaken, but not because of her curse. He was more worried about something else — the CCTV camera inside the compound he just escaped from.
He was damn sure his face had been captured.
All those people needed now was to hand the footage to their lawyer, and his police career would be roasted like a burnt offering.

Breaking and entering without a warrant.
Illegal discharge of firearms.
The list was endless.

Few of his Ogas inside the force had been shielding him for years whenever the Circle levels a case against him, but this time? Even God might not pick his call.

When he got home, he peeled off his clothes, took a hot shower, and treated the bruises on his body with spirit that burnt like pepper.
He swallowed two painkillers, looked at his face in the mirror, and said quietly,

“I need to change tactics... ”

Then something clicked in his head.
A new plan.

After a few minutes inside the traffic, he finally reached the station.

He stormed in with his usual serious face.
His subordinates greeted him along the corridor —

“Good afternoon, sir!”

"Afternoon,” he said, waving like he was just greeting a neighbor, then walked straight to the female cell.

He stopped at the one where Tiffany and four other ladies were sitting. One of them was so pregnant, she looked like she was hiding a big calabash under her blouse.

Tiffany was in her corner, eyes sharp, looking at the others like she was counting how many seconds it would take to beat them if things went wrong.

Kalu opened the cell door.

“You’re free to go.”

Two of the ladies immediately jumped up, ready to walk out like he was refering to them.

Kalu looked at them and said, “You take one more step and you'll be dead so fast they won't be ready for you in hell...”

The two froze, looking at each other, then slowly shuffled back to their seats, muttering under their breath.

Then Kalu pointed at Tiffany.

“You. I’m talking to you.”

He stepped in and shook the keys in front of her face.

Tiffany blinked. “Wait… what?”

“I said, you’re free to go,” Kalu repeated, unlocking the cuffs like it was the simplest thing in the world.

She frowned, crossed her arms.

“Oh, so my lawyer finally spoke some sense into that thick skull of yours, abi? You’ve now decided to obey the law?”

Kalu gave a dry smile — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Your lawyer didn’t do anything. I’m releasing you because I’ve run out of options.”

She laughed sarcastically. “Options? What options? You people think you can just—”

“Tiffany!” he said, calm but sharp, “There’s a criminal organization out there after my wife, my daughter… and the baby she’s carrying. They'll stop at nothing until they see us dead!”

Her eyes went wide — like really wide. Kalu saw it. That look… the kind that tells you someone actually cares. Perfect. That weak point? He could work with it.

“Wait… wait… first you lock me up for hours, threaten to send me to prison, and now you’re just saying I’m free? And on top of that, all this story you’re telling me?” Tiffany scoffed, shaking her head. “Is this some kind of joke?” She stuttered, half-laughing at how crazy the whole thing sounded.

“Nope… you haven’t heard the funny part yet,” he said, nudging her toward the counter where he handed over her stuff.

“The funniest part? Your boyfriend… he’s working for them. And I swear this on my daughter’s life…”

Her face just froze. Shoulders slumped, lips parted… but nothing came out.

For the first time since he met her, Tiffany looked completely lost. Like someone had pulled the rug out from under her.

Kalu checked his watch. “We need to go before my superiors see you here. Move.”

She nodded slowly, still in shock. And just like that, they walked to his car — two people who never imagined they’d end up on the same side of any story....


Remaining parts of this episode dropping soon. Keep the comments and likes coming.

Four years ago, I stopped writing.

And over those years, my inbox kept flooding—messages from people who missed my stories, some people I don't even know or never for once saw their reactions on my posts, and also from people who really cared. At first, I didn’t understand. But then it hit me… so many of you were actually reading, enjoying, and living my story with me but don't care to show reactions or comments.

I remember one day, I typed the title of my story, Countless and The Dog Attendant, into Google. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My story was almost everywhere—on blogs, pages, being copied, shared, getting more attention than I ever got. People were using my own story to gain more fans and readers across the social media space without acknowledging me.

Back then, it crushed me. My morale hit the ground. So I stopped. And I can tell you, if I had kept writing from then till now, my fan base would be in millions by now. The proof is out there, you can verify yourself.

Now, I’m back. I’ve started writing again. I check the comments, the reactions—on my Facebook page (@Darousmart Library), on Nairaland,(@Theblessedman) on my Facebook handle (@Adigun Idowu)—and history seems to be repeating itself. Dey comments after hours of typing and posting.

Here’s the thing: when I hold back from posting updates, the flood of messages I get is more than when I actually drop something. Can you imagine that?

Put yourself in my shoes for a second. I’m a building contractor by profession. I work with my hands, I sweat, I grind. But I still carve out time to write stories for you. And every time I drop something, I make sure it’s worth reading.

Now imagine if you helped me grow my base. Imagine if writing could pay my bills. The time, the tools, the focus I’d have… I could serve you better, forever. You could even say you helped me grow, and that would be the truth.

But some of you… some of you are just cruel. You read and move on, like it doesn’t matter to show a little love—a comment, a like, a reaction.

Even if I stray from the plot, how am I supposed to know if 90% of my readers are ghosts?

It’s not fair.

Great writers don’t become great alone. They become great because they had amazing readers—readers who push them, encourage them, challenge them, and celebrate them.

Please. Let’s do better.

Because I write for you. And I want to keep writing. But I can’t do it alone.

Still I need to appreciate the loyal ones. The ones who knows thunder will fire them if they don't comment.. 😂 The true sons and daughters of Shango... I appreciate you all... Let's keep this movement going. We got more doors to unlock.


I remain your humble Writer. ADIGUN IDOWU. DAROUSMART Theblessedman.

Abdulreheem:
Bring it on Mr darus .
U always knows how to keep some one on suspense.

Darous oooooooo😀

Ohibenemma:
A man of his words! @TheBlessedMan. I will read through later.

🙏🙏🙏🙏

EPISODE 33 —Crossing Lines.


I was halfway home when my phone started buzzing in my pocket.
I checked the screen and almost hissed out loud — Kenny.
Of all the people to be calling me right now.
I already knew what this was about. It’s always the same story with him — “Bro, help me join The Circle.”
Not even considering the fact that we just buried Baba T yesterday.

Sometimes I wonder if Kenny’s brain has coconut inside. The Circle is not some community WhatsApp group you can join by filling form. You don’t choose The Circle — The Circle chooses you. And it even depends on what you can offer, and how valuable your “gift” is to them.
But no, Kenny believes they just recruit people like Chelsea signing anyone that can kick a ball to the extent their squad is half the population of london.

My plan is simple. Once I start making cool money from this Circle people, I’ll just settle this guy. Give him four or five million, enough to make him comfortable so he stops bothering my life.

I let the phone ring twice, hoping he’d give up. But when he started calling back-to-back like his life depended on it, I sighed and picked up.

“Hello,” I said flatly, already regretting my decision.

“Guy, why you dey dodge my calls?” That was the first thing out of his mouth.

I blinked, confused. “What?”

He didn’t even let me breathe. “So you think I won’t notice? You don’t want to fulfil your own end of the bargain abi? You want to play smart....”

I frowned, stopping in the middle of the road. “Hey guy, no let me change am for you this evening o....right now, I got a lot going on in my head and I don't want you adding to it.”

He laughed — that annoying laugh of someone who thinks he knows you are trying to scope him. “No play that game with me bro. You said if I help you deal with that detective guy, you’ll bring me into The Circle. I’ve done my part, but you— you’re just...” His voice trailed off.

For a second, I didn’t even know whether to laugh or just shout.
“Guy, this is really what you want to talk about right now? Joining The Circle? Seriously?” I said, my voice already rising. “You were there when that man carried my girlfriend away yesterday. You no even reason how I dey feel? My own babe spent the night inside cell!”

“So I should send you a teddy bear to hug? Because you were single for one night? I’ve been single for almost half a decade and I didn’t cry…” he fired back.

“Will you shut the fvck up?” I shouted, completely losing it.

He tried to talk, but I didn’t let him.
“This same girl wey give you room to crash just last week o… ah, do you even have brain at all?”

“Abeg leave that thing,” he shot back. “You don’t care about anyone because you don get money now. Small change enter your account, and suddenly you don’t remember people again.”

That one hit harder than I expected.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t even respond.
He kept talking, but his words just sounded like background noise to what his words already registered in my head.

I hissed and pressed the power button without even looking at the screen.

He called again.
And again.

I didn’t pick. I just kept walking — slow— while my thoughts dragged behind me like overloaded luggage. My phone stayed glued to my palm.

Then something buzzed again in my pocket. For a moment, I froze — until I remembered Kalu’s phone was still with me. I pulled it out, peeled off the tissue I’d wrapped it in, and checked the screen.
The caller ID blinked: Madam Adeoye.
The vibration dragged on for two more buzzes before it stopped.

Curiosity wanted to win. I tried unlocking the phone, hoping to take a small, innocent peek into this mysterious man’s privacy. But the thing refused to open. After a few failed tries, I hissed, gave up, and tucked it back safely into my pocket.

I had to get home fast — shower, grab one of the cars, then head to the station. Tiffany shouldn’t be paying for my sins. If blackmailing Kalu with that phone and flash drive is the only way, fine — I’ll do it.

I started walking like someone who had a score to settle.

By the time I finally reached Toyosi’s gate, my legs were on strike. Every step felt like punishment, and the ache in my ankles didn’t help matters.

I unlocked the gate, pushed it open—
and froze when my eyes settled on the compound.

Detective Kalu’s Camry.
Inside.

The same one from the cemetery yesterday.
The same one I saw at the filling station this morning.

My hand was still on the gate. My brain? Hanging somewhere between how and why.

My heart skipped. Then it started racing like it was being chased.
What was he doing here?
Or was my mind playing tricks on me?

The two black GLEs were there too.

I quickly pulled out Kalu’s phone and the flash drive from my pocket. Circled the back of the house and hid both inside the small store beside the generator house.
Then I took a deep breath. Straightened my shirt.
Walked to the front door.

When I opened it…

There they were.

Toyosi was on the single seater, just staring at me like she’d been rehearsing the look all morning.
Tiffany — my own girlfriend — was sitting on the double couch, pressing her phone like she didn’t just spend the last twenty-four hours in a police cell.
And then there was Detective Kalu — the devil himself — sitting there with a glass of wine, calm and relaxed, like one of those unbothered uncles that watch Home Alone every December and still laugh like it’s their first time.

For a second, my mind refused to process what my eyes were seeing.
Tiffany. Out of the cell.
Sitting in front of the man who was supposed to be holding her captive.
Toyosi — quiet, like she knew something I didn’t.
And Kalu — watching me, half-smile on his face, like he was waiting for me to realize something big was about to happen.

My throat went dry.

And then the real kicker—
They all had their phones. Except Kalu.
Which means all the while I was calling, texting, losing my mind… they could have answered.

They just didn’t.

I shut the door quietly behind me, my pulse pounding so loud it could’ve echoed off the walls.
Whatever was happening here…
I was standing right in the middle of it.



Remaining parts of this episode dropping once I see enough reactions ooo.

Ohibenemma:
What's up with @TheBlessedMan? This kind of silence is very unlike him... Or has his team been relegated?

😂😂😂😂 update drops tomorrow unfailingly...

Ohibenemma:
Another one drops! These updates keep getting shorter, but if they come at this rate, I'd say I'm more than satisfied.

Darous is in a big dilemma. At this point, he needs to get on the offensive. At least, that should be his endgame, even if he buys time with some temporary shenanigans.

ah... That one is also short? 😂Jeeeesu... Okay next time. I know what to do. I'll just post it twice... So it can be long... 😂😂😂😂

dawno2008:
Trouble seems to be Darous second name🤔and that meeting with the detective that morning was Ill timed🧐and messing with the circle will definitely have consequences,but I know the god of thunder ⚡ will come through for his prodigal son😅I hope Cynthia won't betray Darous,😔cos she kinda like her new life /role now🤭and I can't even think of any good punishment I can recommend for Darous to tell Aristotle 😅I don't envy him at this moment,😰
Thanks TBM,are we getting more updates today🤭the spirit of oliver twist just entered my body 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Mr Oliver.. you gats calm oooo... Even this update took me more than the whole night to do... Abeg...

Abdulreheem:
Well
Kalu has got U tainted
I hope Ur girlfriend is not that too angry at U .
I trust the first of songo to wash her brain with a solid and sweet lies

no be small thing my brother...

Episode 32. - Rats In Day Light

We walked back up the steps, slow and careful, sneaking a look over our shoulders every few seconds.

Cynthia’s eyes were darting around like torchlight beams.
“Move fast, jare,” she whispered.

We pushed the door open.

The guard we’d left on the floor was still there — eyes open, not breathing. The blood under him had turned dark and sticky. I quickly placed the gun back by his side and stood up.

The mattress we’d used to block the wardrobe was now lying flat on the ground. The wardrobe door was open.

Empty.

The twins were gone.

For a second, we both just froze. Cynthia just opened her mouth wide. I moved closer to the wardrobe, my heart thumping.

“They were right here,” she said. “We put them in here.”

“Yes na,” I said. “Where did they go?”

Cynthia bent down and ran a hand through her hair. “What if something happened to them? You know we’re finished if Aristotle hears this.”

Oh, she was right. That man treats those twins like his family heirloom. I’m already in deep mess with him, and now this? Once Aristotle finds out the twins are missing, he might as well make me sign my own death warrant.

“What if they were kidnapped?” Cynthia said.

I didn’t reply. I just stood there, letting my brain arrange the puzzle. I checked the floor again — the mattress, the wardrobe, the door hinge, everything. Then I noticed it — the way the mattress had fallen, the way the wardrobe door was hanging open. It wasn’t forced. It was opened.

“I don’t think anyone took them,” I said quietly. “I think they left by themselves.”

She turned sharply. “Left? Two naked albino girls? How can that even—”

“Or maybe rapture happened,” I cut in. “And the angel took them first.”

Cynthia gave me a dead stare. "Don't make me swear for you...."

I shrugged and went silent for a bit. “But seriously, where could they have gone?”

She sighed. “This is serious.”

“Very serious,” I said, still looking around, studying the way and pattern in which the mattress was lying on the floor. “No struggle marks on the wardrobe door, no broken vents, no signs of anyone else here. I think they walked out by themselves. Somehow.”

Before she could respond, a phone started ringing from the dead guard’s pocket. The sound echoed in the quiet room. We both froze again.

I bent down slowly and pulled it out. The name on the screen made my stomach twist.

CK Boss.

“I don’t think we should pick this call,” I said.

“Why?” Cynthia asked. “Who is it?”

“Chuka,” I said.

She sucked her teeth. “And so? You want them to send others inside and find one of them dead on the floor?"

" No...but...."

" Just pick it.”

“Pick it? What do you want me to tell them happened to the owner sef?"

She rolled her eyes. “You talk too much. If we die, we die. At least we’ll die trying.”

I stared at her. “How did you suddenly turn to Kitana from Mortal Kombat? What happened to Jude’s sweet girlfriend that we all love?”

She put her finger to her lips. “Shhh. Have you ever killed someone before?”

“Of course not,” I said. “Why would I?”

“Then you won’t understand,” she said, voice flat. “After stabbing Baba T that night, something inside me changed. Once you cross that line, you start forgetting how to fear. I’ve seen blood. I’ve taken a man’s last breath. There’s really nothing left to be afraid of.”

For some reason, that hit me hard. It was like her words turned a key in my head. She was right. Enough of this shaking like cold fish. If Cynthia — this same girl that used to giggle like a choir member — could pull herself together after all that, then what excuse do I have?

I’ve been in Lagos long enough to know how to be dangerous if I need to. And lucky for me, Cynthia isn’t some empty beauty queen — she can fight to some reasonable extent, and she’s smart with computers. With that kind of woman beside me, maybe fear should start fearing us instead.

I looked at her, nodded once.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s handle this our—”
I was still talking when the phone rang again.

She snatched it so fast, you’d think she’d been expecting the call.

“Hello,” she said, voice calm. Her eyes were moving around like she was watching ghosts.

“Yes— there was a problem.....A stray bullet hit the door.....The guard was hit… ..........The twins ran when it happened..............We’re about to go and look for them…..........He’s here….....… I’ll do that right away.”

Then she paused for a second, her face blank, and handed me the phone.

“Aristotle wants to talk to you,” she said.

I took it carefully, like the phone itself could explode. Sat down on the edge of the bed. I could hear Chuka’s voice as he passed the phone to Aristotle.

Then the line went quiet for a second before I heard that voice — smooth, slow, and cold like soaked ice.

“Do you know the problem with rats that visit the lion’s den in daylight?” he asked, and didn’t even wait for me to answer.
“They start thinking the lion is asleep… until they hear the bones of their brothers cracking under his teeth.”

I just froze.

He paused — long enough for the words to properly punch me in the chest — then continued.

“Your little meeting with Kalu this morning left a door open in my house. And through that door, he walked in and challenged my authority. Something no man has ever done and lived to boast about.”

I could feel sweat rolling down my back even though the fan was on.

“I know you didn’t start the fight,” he said again, his tone calmer now, “and I also know you had nothing to do with the trail… that fault lies with my boys. But still, you’re the one who pulled the first thread that made my entire house shake.”

There was silence again. I didn’t even breathe too loud.

Then his tone dropped even lower.

“You made me run out of my own house!.”

That sentence hit like thunder.
For a few seconds, it was just air moving through the line. Then he spoke again.

“Now go downstairs. I’ve given instructions to what’s left of my guards. Collect your phone, go home. Sit down. Think about what you believe is the best punishment for your role in all this. Then call me back once you've decided.”

There was silence for some seconds before he spoke again.

"Do you have anything to say?"

I swallowed hard. “Errr… sir… how much time do I have?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was crying through my nose.

“That's left for you to decide,” he said quietly. “But if you take too long and I’m forced to call you myself, whatever punishment you come up with will be doubled.”

Just as I thought he was about to hang up, Aristotle’s voice came back, calm as ever.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he said. “As a sign of good faith — for you to know The Circle still rewards good performances — one million naira has been sent to your account. A small token for outlasting me in that game....”

He even laughed, that quiet wicked laugh of his. “You played well,” he said. “You earned it.”

Then, calmly as ever, “Give Cynthia the phone.”

I handed it over like a man surrendering evidence in court.

She took it, said, “Hello sir… CT on the phone…” and shortly after, walked out of the room, phone still pressed to her ear.

The door closed. And that was when I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

My heart was beating like I owed it money. My head? Empty. Like I had just finished writing exam questions I didn’t even understand.

Punishment? For myself? What do I even pick — slap, exile, or public flogging? What do you tell a man who ties you to a bed and orders your friend's girl to fvck you and make sure you c*um before he does?

I just sat there, staring at the floor, thinking about how I went from a harmless morning meeting to becoming the reason Aristotle — Double A — had to run out of his mansion.

My hands were still shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or shame.
But deep down, I knew there was no running from this.
This wasn’t just about Kalu or the missing twins.
This was me standing right in front of the lion — and this time, I was the rat.

I waited for Cynthia to come back. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Then almost half an hour. Nothing.

After a while, I told myself, if she’s not back by now, maybe she’s not coming back at all.

I looked around the room one last time, then took Detective Kalu’s phone and the flash drive. I wrapped them tight in tissue and pushed them deep inside my trouser pocket.

When I stepped out, I was already preparing my mind for them to search me. I thought they’d at least tell me to raise my hands or something. But shockingly, none of the guards said a word. They didn’t even look at me twice. One of them just pointed to the car parked outside.

Tinted glass. Black body.

They opened the back door for me like a guest — and as soon as I entered, one of them pulled a black hood over my head.

I didn’t argue. I just sat there, quiet, as the car moved.

The drive didn't take long like in the morning. The engine sound told me we were on the highway for a while, then some turns here and there — until finally, the car stopped.

When they pulled off the hood, I realised where I was. The same Mushin garage where they picked me up in the morning.

One of the guards stretched my phone out to me. “Oya, come down.”

I came down slowly. Nobody said anything else. The car just reversed and drove off, leaving me standing there like somebody that misplaced his destiny somewhere along the road.

I took a deep breath and flagged down a bike.

As the wind slapped my face, I pulled out my phone. Notifications everywhere. Missed calls like exam questions.

Toyosi — fifteen times.
Kenny — five times.
And the one that made my heart start pounding again — Tiffany. She had called thirty five times already.

There was even one strange number that called too. No name, just number. It called more than five times.

I scrolled down to WhatsApp, and that’s when I saw a message from Mrs. Adeoye — my rich client.

‘When can you work? . I want to show you some renovation works.’

At that point, my brain was tired. Like actually tired. I didn’t even know which problem to attend to first — Tiffany or the punishment one Aristotle gave me. And there's also the other decision I still need to make either to stop working for the Circle and go on full rampage against them or just continue playing my risky game with them and get rich in the process. Just like today's own. Aristotle giving me one million naira for outlasting him in the game of sex.

Still on the bike, I called Tiffany first. No response. I tried again. Nothing. Third time. Still nothing.

I switched to Toyosi. The line rang, rang, rang — no answer.

My chest started feeling tight. You know that type of fear that doesn’t even have shape yet — it just sits in your stomach and waits? That was how I felt.

Out of frustration, I dialled the strange number. It rang once and went off. Tried again — switched off.

That was it. I gave up.

By the time the bike stopped in front of our estate gate, the sky was already getting dark. I got down, paid the rider, and started walking inside.

The security man at the gate raised his head lazily and greeted, “Oga, welcome.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

And then I just kept walking that long stretch of road that led to Toyosi’s house — tired, confused, and thinking about how in one day, life had turned me into both suspect and survivor.

To be continued..

Like and share and drop meaningful comments. 🙏 It goes a long way in moral boosting.

Ohibenemma:
Wonderful, as usual! Let's see how things will go from here. From my crystal ball here, I see a new team of the detective, Tiffany, Darous and Cynthia eventually coming together to turn the heat on the Circle. Yea, there will be some initially distrust, but this would soon smoothen out for cohesive, coordinated action.

this man..... 😂😂😂😂😂😂Thanks for always commenting sha. I appreciate

EPISODE 31 — The Blood Debt.



For a moment, the whole room forgot how to exist.
No one moved. No one even dared to breathe.
One of the albino twins nearly screamed — she opened her mouth, but the other clapped a hand over it just in time.
“Please,” I whispered, voice shaking, “don’t. Just… don’t scream.”
They nodded, trembling like candle flames in harmattan wind. It was hard to tell who was more frightened.
Cynthia moved faster than I expected. She kicked the dead guard’s hand off the pistol and snatched it up. Her hands shook, but her hold was steady.

She stood facing the door, her finger resting lightly on the trigger — ready to fire at the slightest sound.
My heart was pounding so hard I could almost hear it echo in my ears.
Even Cynthia was shaking, though she tried to hide it. Her grip on the gun was firm, her breathing sharp and quiet.
We stayed like that for what felt like forever — just the four of us frozen in fear, waiting for someone to burst in or shoot.
But no one came. No sound from the door and no movement at all.

When it finally sank in that we were safe — at least for now — we both exhaled at the same time, the air leaving our lungs like we’d been holding it for years.

Without wasting another second, Cynthia dashed to the wardrobe, grabbed a shirt and jeans, and threw them on in a flash. Then she hurried to my side, knelt beside the bed, and started working on the ropes around my wrists with quick, shaky hands that still knew exactly what they were doing.
“Can you walk?” she asked in a whisper.

I tried a weak, tired laugh. “If crawling counts.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she muttered, untying the last knot on my legs.

The ropes came loose. Blood flooded my hands — sharp, burning, like a thousand tiny needles. I winced. My fingers felt clumsy, heavy, like they belonged to someone else.

“Take it easy,” she said.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Truth was, my body was finished. The one sided sex with Cynthia, Chuka's boots and the damage it did to my ankles — it all added up. I could barely stand.

She tossed me a pair of trousers and a polo. I dressed awkwardly, every movement loud in the room.
But still, we need to work fast.

We shoved the twins into the wardrobe and blocked its door with a mattress — we didn't lock it, we just hid them inside. Cynthia handed me the gun she’d taken from the dead guard.

“You know how to use this?” she asked.

I gave a tired smirk. “Use it? I used to be in charge of thunder distribution back when I worked for my father. What’s a small gun compared to that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Perfect. And if you misfire, we’ll both die beautifully.”

“Then at least the obituary will be classy,” I said, checking the safety like I knew what I was doing.

I glanced at the wall clock — 2:07 p.m.

Kalu.

I promised to call him by noon and it's already past. The thought salted my hands Immediately because, like you know, right before today, I was split betweem— betraying the Circle and save Tiffany, or continue working for them and keep my ambition of owning one of the biggest building construction company in the country.

But after what happened today, I can't continue working for this people. This Circle had to go. I concluded in my mind.

We crept to the door. I opened it slow, gun tight in my palms. The corridor was half-dark, lit by shards of sunlight through broken glass.
Two guards lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling around them. Near one body, a phone sat on the floor.
I bent to pick it up.
“What are you doing?” Cynthia whispered.
“Trying to call my number. My phone is somewhere in this house.”
She gave me the look that could melt iron. “You’re insane.”

“Insane? I can’t leave my phone here. They can use it against me.”

I pressed the power button on the phone — nothing. Dead screen. The thing was as lifeless as the guard lying beside it.

“Perfect,” I muttered.

Then I spotted another one on the floor, lying near a bullet-ridden column like it was waiting for me.
I picked it up fast, a little hope crawling back into my chest. Maybe this one still had some life left.
I pressed the power button — and froze.
Detective Kalu’s face stared back at me from the wallpaper. My stomach dropped.
“What the hell—”

Cynthia leaned closer, eyes wide. “Who is this?”

Before I could answer, the sound hit — gunshots. Loud, sharp, and close.
The kind that makes your soul want to hide under a bed.
We both flinched, eyes darting around the hallway like two rats waiting for the cat to show up.
Then Cynthia grabbed my hand.

“Follow me,” she commanded.

We ran — quiet but fast — down the stairs, past broken wall lamps and shattered glass.
My heart was thundering in my chest, every step sounding louder than the last.
She pushed open a small metal door, and we slipped inside.
Monitors, wires, blinking lights everywhere.

It was the control room — cold, silent, and buzzing with machines.
For the first time in minutes, there were no bullet sounds. Just the low hum of electricity and the sound of my pulse trying to break free from my throat.

Cynthia’s fingers were flying over the keyboard, switching camera feeds like she was born inside a control room.
She wasn’t even blinking — just pure focus, eyes darting from one screen to another.
I stood behind her, still gripping the gun, watching what was happening on the monitors.

As she typed away on the system, my mind started drifting — straight back to what just happened between us. The sex and the fact that I at one point enjoyed the idea of fvcking my own friend's girlfriend. My heart skipped when it also hit me that I had actually released inside her.
What if she gets pregnant? Me wey my sperm no dey miss target — na wahala be that.
But then I calmed down. I remembered what she told me that night she stabbed Baba T — that the doctor said she’s done too many abortions and the phone of her womb may never ring again.

I just hoped that phone truly had no network.

“See here…” Cynthia’s voice snapped me back. She pointed to the screen.

Two guards stood by the main gate, talking like generals planning a world war — guns on their shoulders, faces hard with fake confidence. From the way they are talking to eachother, you’d think they were getting ready to stop the American troops Trump threatened to send to Nigeria.

I squinted at the feed. “Wait — how do you even know all this camera stuff? Are you a hacker or something?”

She didn’t bother looking up. “After NYSC I did a six-month crash course in cyber security and systems. Small things, big things, anything computer at all.
She glanced at me briefly. “There’s really nothing much I can’t do with a computer.”

“Wow,” I said, impressed but trying not to show it. “So you can hack Pentagon too?”

She smirked. “Please. Let’s survive this one first before you start calling me James Bond’s IT girl.”
The screens flickered again.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Then she leaned back in the chair, still holding the mouse.
“Wait…” I said, as the screen showed Detective Kalu fighting one of the guards.

Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the same man from the phone you picked earlier?”

“Yes… that’s him,” I muttered, staring hard at the screen. “What the hell is he doing here?”

She glanced at me, confused. “Exactly—what’s he doing here?”

I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning. She kept working quietly for a few minutes before finally breaking the silence.

“I think everywhere is calm now,” she said in a low voice. “We should head back inside before the guards come around and start suspecting we had something to do with all this.”

“Why?” I asked, frowning a little.

“The only ones left are the guards I know,” she replied. “They won’t shoot—unless we give them a reason to.”

I shook my head immediately. “No. That’s a bad idea. I’m not taking that risk. These people can kill us at any second. Remember the order Aristotle gave that guard...”

She turned to me, calm but with a serious face. “If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead a long time ago. Think about it. They tied you up, but didn’t kill you. They only forced us to…you know....do it.”

“Do what?” I cut in sharply. “Oh, you mean that sex? You’re calling that forced? ’Cause from the way you reacted, it didn’t look forced to me.”

She gave me a cold look. “I told you already — it was a game. Nothing personal.”

I scoffed. “A game? You don’t even care if I end up dead because of the stupid game’?”

She snapped her eyes at me. “Like you would’ve cared if they’d put a bullet in my head.”

I stepped closer, my voice rising. “I don’t care? I don’t care — but I saved you when Kenny came knocking that night! Remember that?”

Her lips tightened. “And now see where your saving got me.”

I blinked, stunned after hearing those words. “Wait, are you blaming me for this? Are you trying to say what I think you are trying to say?"

" Say what?"

" Like saying this whole thing is my fault?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just kept typing on the keyboard, her eyes fixed on the screen.

"Infact, you should be thanking me for betraying my own friends to save your skin after you killed one of us. You owed me your life and nothing less... I'm the reason you are still a living soul..."

Then quietly, she said, “Mr Jesus Christ, all I know is, they only wanted to scare us — not kill us. We’re still useful to them. We’re assets.”

“Assets?” I repeated, half-laughing, half-angry. “If they wanted to scare an asset, they don’t need to use guns, Cynthia. They can just tell me ah, Darous o, Ojuju is coming o and I’ll behave myself..”
I pulled up my trouser and showed her the swollen marks around my ankles. “But you see what Chuka did to my legs? I can barely stand, and you’re telling me I’m an asset?”
I pointed at the frozen image of Detective Kalu on the screen.
“And you see that man? His name’s Kalu — he must’ve traced me here. The whole shootout, it’s because of me!”

Cynthia turned sharply. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I talked to him this morning. Before I came here. And… Aristotle already knows about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait— why were you even talking to a police man in the first place?”

I paused. “It’s… a long story.”

She hummed softly, staring at me like she was trying to figure out what I was hiding.
“Hmm.” That’s all she said.

I rubbed my forehead. “Now the same man shows up here with a gun, shooting everybody! You think they won’t connect the dots? They’ll know I brought him!”

Cynthia folded her arms, tilting her head at me like I just shouted Up NEPA! while the whole room was still in darkness.

“And how are you so sure they even know it was the detective who stormed this place?” she asked calmly. “Because from what I’m seeing, there’s no evidence for them yet..."

“Well, I don’t know,” I said, frustration leaking into my voice.

“Exactly my point,” she replied, snapping her fingers lightly.

“But think about it,” I said quickly. “They'll know he’s the only one brave—or stupid—enough to walk into this house without a single backup!”

She sighed, turning back to the monitors. “Relax, Mr. Jesus Christ,” she said softly, the sarcasm rolling off her tongue like butter. “If that’s your only problem, I can fix it.”

“How?” I asked, watching her hands hover over the keyboard.

“If what you’re afraid of is them linking you to this attack, then I’ll just alter the parts of the footage where the detective appears. Simple.”

I blinked. “You can do that?”
She gave a smug half-smile. “My lord, I told you before — there’s practically nothing I can’t do with a computer.”

“Wow…” I muttered, genuinely impressed.

“See you,” she teased, “I can even copy the original footage to another drive for you — just in case that ‘long story’ with your detective ever comes up again. Once I’m done, the system will run on a loop, like nothing ever happened.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Watch and learn,” she said confidently, fingers already flying across the keyboard.

She ejected the main hard drive, grabbed another one from the shelf, and slotted it in. A few quick clicks, a few lines of code, and then one final command.

The screens flickered — once, twice — then everything went black.
“There,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “System glitch. From this morning till now — wiped clean. Nobody will ever know we altered it or even see your detective's face in the records. ”

Then she pulled out the hard drive she’d swapped earlier and handed it to me.
“Keep this. Just in case you ever need proof for your 'long story'.with that detective.”

I took it slowly, still trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

“You… really did it?”

She nodded. “That’s the only thing that can implicate you. So no more running, okay?”

I looked down at the drive, then back at her. “You’re saying I should just stay here? Like nothing happened?”

She took a small step closer. “I’m saying running will make us look guilty. Whether you like it or not, we're valuable to them. If we disappear, these people... they’ll hunt us down. But if we stay calm, act like we know nothing, they’ll look the other way instead of chasing us.”

I sighed deeply. “You sound so sure.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s because I am." she said, her voice steady. “Trust me, Darous, with the little move seen here since I came?. If they wanted you gone, you’d already be a memory.”

I stared at her for a long moment, then finally — reluctantly — I nodded.
“Fine. But if this goes wrong, and I die because of your big mouth—”

She smirked, that usual mischief dancing in her eyes. “Don't worry, it'll work.”

“Hmmm. Anyway, thank you.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Don’t thank me, my lord. We’re even now.”

I frowned. “Even? How?”

She gave a small laugh. “This is how I pay back the blood you shed for me on the cross that night Kenny came for me.”

It took me a few seconds to catch the meaning — then I laughed, shaking my head.

“You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious,” she said with a grin.
We both chuckled softly after that. The tension in the air eased a bit, replaced by that awkward peace that only comes after surviving a fatal accident.
I slipped the hard drive into my pocket beside Detective Kalu’s phone, and together, we started walking back to the room we’d left earlier.

dawno2008:
Wetin dey sup nau @TBM🥺 abi Trump threat don dey affect you too ni 🧐cos everywhere and everything don dey on slow since Trump's declaration,abeg come drop update oooo😰

I nor wan hear story that touch again,this one barca get match,the thing fit affect you again if dem loss🤔 baba tbm come do normal joor 🤕

we don draw yesterday na..... 😂😂😂 Moral don drop small. But update remain small... 🙏

Ohibenemma:
We'll, there are many sides to this dilemma... maybe the phone is strongly encrypted and an attempt to break through the maze may lead to an automatic loss of files... maybe, as a detective, Kalu writes important info in codes which will be difficult for another to crack... he could also receive help from Darous, who's been able to decipher who Aristotle actually is

smart genius... 😳

ghettochild:
Kalu's mistake was rushing head first inside the mansion without thinking of the consequences now he's lost his phone and thereby putting his wife n kids life in danger but if he's smart he must go take his wife n daughter to a new location..
Otherwise the circle wil get hold of them easily....
Na him gŕagra and bloody thirst for revenge go put the family he's trying so hard to protect in danger.

spot on... I'll tell him in the next update .. 😂😂😂😂

Abdulreheem:
No update today ?
Son of songo

cooking it. I dey site oooo🙏

purity247:
Boss what about the dog attendant, you left that guy in a very bad situation since like 3 years

na punishment for everything he's done .. 😂😂😂

MhiztaRange:
My favorite name from this blockbuster “the limping man” na wetin I go name my first born child if na male child

😂😂😂😂😂 the limping man? That's creepy... 😂😂😂

Abdulreheem:
Happy Sunday tbm

happy Sunday boss man... Wishing you a very happy one

Meedon:
MTN with their unnecessary messages

na so we see am oooo😂😂😂😂

Abdulreheem:
Happy new month son of songo .
I always knows how to make more juicy all the time .
Thanks for the update man

same to you my brother man...

Continuation of Episode 30. - Justice With A Limp.

Detective Kalu wishes all the readers of this story a happy new month. Stay blessed and stay away from the Circle... 😂😂😂😂.

Now let's continue to the story. Like and share. No carry that bad manner of reading and ghosting enter this new month abeg. It's not easy to write. Oya
..let's do this.

******

Detective Kalu stood there scanning the whole space. The mansion around him was a masterpiece of wealth and arrogance.
White marble floors stretched endlessly beneath his boots.
Gold-trimmed pillars lined the lobby.
A chandelier the size of a small car hung above, still trembling from the echo of the gunfire.
The air reeked of money — and danger.
For a few seconds, the only sound was his own breathing — fast and shallow.
His ears rang; the air was thick with smoke and the scent of gunpowder.
Then came the sound he had been trying to avoid since he stepped through that gate.

Boots pounding the marble floor above.
Voices barking commands.
The unmistakable metallic clicks of rifles being cocked.

He clenched his jaw. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. "MTN, you did this..."

Still, he hadn’t forgotten why he entered the building in the first place — to find clues that could finally bring down this criminal organisation. Besides, Kalu wasn’t the kind of man who backed out of a fight that easily.

Kalu looked down at one of the men he’d just taken down — eyes wide open, mouth frozen in shock.
He exhaled once, crouched, and grabbed the fallen guard’s pistol.
He checked the chamber.
Five bullets rested inside.
That was all he had between himself and death.

He straightened his shirt, blood pounding in his temples, and began to move — one cautious step at a time through the wide hallway up onto the stairs.

He reached a corner on the first floor and began to hear voices closing in from both sides.
Then, without warning, bullets tore through the wall beside him.

POW! POW! POW!

The force blew dust into his face.
He dove behind a column and returned fire — two precise shots.

POW! POW!

One man screamed. Another hit the ground with a dull thud.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
This house was a hornet’s nest, and he had just kicked it open.

Kalu sprinted across the corridor, sliding behind a sofa as more bullets shattered a glass table nearby.
Shards rained like ice.
He rolled on the floor and fired — one more guard fell down.

Then his gun jammed.
He cursed quietly, yanked the slide back, but it refused to click.
Before he could fix it, another guard charged at him.
Kalu dropped the gun and met him halfway.

The two men clashed hard.
Fists flew.
Kalu dodged a punch and slammed his elbow into the man’s jaw.
The guard retaliated with a knee to his ribs.
Pain exploded through Kalu’s side, but he didn’t stop.
He countered, twisting the man’s arm, forcing him to the ground.

That was when he saw it — through the corner of his eye.

A masked man dressed in a plain shirt and three-quarter jeans being escorted down the hallway by two guards.
The man’s movements were calm, deliberate — like someone who didn’t need to run.
Something about his build, his posture, the way the guards handled him — it all screamed importance.

Kalu froze for a split second.
His instincts whispered one thing — that’s him.
The man responsible for Thomas’s death.
The ghost he’d been chasing all these years.

But he couldn’t move. Not yet. Not with this guard still on him.

With a grunt, Kalu smashed the man’s head against the wall beside the room door the masked man had just come out from — once, twice — until he collapsed.

Kalu exhaled sharply, his eyes darting to the hallway where the masked man had disappeared moments ago.

He ran to the door they came out from, hoping to find a clue.
But the moment he reached for the handle and twitched it —

POW!

A bullet sliced through the wood, missing his face by an inch.
He ducked instinctively, heart racing.

He turned around then saw
a gunman emerged from the corridor, rifle raised and ready to shoot again.

POW!

The bullet shattered the mirror beside Kalu.

He rolled sideways, grabbed a pistol lying on the floor — probably the one belonging to the man he’d just slammed against the wall — and returned fire.

POW!

The gunman staggered.

POW!

The second shot caught him clean in the chest. He went down instantly.

Silence again. Just the echo of death and adrenaline pounding in Kalu’s ears.

He quickly checked the pistol — only three bullets left.
He cursed under his breath.

He knew it was time to leave. No more detours. No more risks. Whoever that masked man was could wait — now wasn’t the time to chase ghosts or play hero. His body was tired, his gun almost empty, and backup wasn’t coming. If he stayed one more minute, he’d be signing his own death note. He needed to get out first, breathe again, and live to fight another day.

Kalu took a deep breath, adjusted his grip, and moved out of the first floor, heading down the stairs to the ground floor. He didn’t stop until he reached the rear exit and pushed his way outside.

The sunlight hit him hard as he stepped outside.
The compound stretched before him, luxury cars gleaming under the late-morning sun.
A black G-Wagon. Two Bentleys. A Lexus LX. A Porsche Cayenne.
And at the far end — a Rolls-Royce Phantom that looked like it hadn’t been driven in years.

Then a voice came from behind him that nearly froze his blood.

“Going somewhere, Detective?”

The voice was smooth. Calm. Cold.

Kalu turned sharply.

Standing near the marble steps of the veranda was a man in a tailored black suit.
No tie. Shirt sleeves rolled slightly up.
One hand rested casually on a silver pistol.
And that limp — that slow, dragging movement — brought a memory screaming back to life.

Their eyes locked.

For a moment, time folded into itself — seven years collapsing into this single second.
The night he first encountered the limping man.
The rain that night fell like heaven had forgotten to turn off the tap — a full-blown repeat of the Noah days, just without the ark.

Then came the glorious shot — the man crawling across the floor, blood spreading like ink under him.

The same man now stood before him, with a face so dangerous it could easily pass for the devil’s clown.

“It’s been a while,” Kalu said, voice low, steady.

“Seven years,” the man replied, smiling faintly. “Give or take a few months of learning how to walk again.”

Kalu’s hand tightened around the pistol. “You should’ve stayed down that night.”

The man’s smile widened — thin and cruel.
“And you should’ve finished the job, Detective.”

He took a slow step forward. The limp was unmistakable — the left leg dragging slightly behind, every motion deliberate, almost theatrical.

“You left me in the dirt, bleeding like an animal,” he continued. “You thought I’d die. But I didn’t. I watched my own blood soak into the ground and swore that if I ever walked again, I’d return the favor.”

Kalu’s expression didn’t change. “You’ve killed too many men to call yourself a victim.”

“And you’ve broken too many rules to call yourself clean. Not to talk of wearing a badge.”

They stared at each other — like two opponents at El Clásico.

The limping man raised his gun slightly.

“You know what hurts more than the limp? The fact that I still respect you, Detective. You were the only one who ever came close to taking me down.”

“Respect is irrelevant,” Kalu said. “Justice doesn’t need it.”

“Justice?” The man laughed softly, shaking his head. “That word died the day you shot me.”

The laugh faded.
Then the first shot came — POW!

Kalu dove behind the G-Wagon. Glass shattered. Metal bent.
He returned fire quickly — POW!
He missed.

The limping man fired again — POW!
The bullet tore past Kalu’s ear and embedded in the car door.

Kalu rolled to the ground, using the front wheel as cover. He exhaled slowly. He had only two bullets left.

The limping man was circling now, moving with surprising speed despite the limp, gun steady in his hand.

“You’re not the man you used to be,” he said. “You’ve lost your edge.”

“Try me,” Kalu replied, calm but deadly.

Another shot came — POW! Missed him by inches.
Kalu countered — POW! The bullet grazed the man’s ear.
The smell of gunpowder thickened between them.

The limping man smirked.
“You know what I learned in recovery, Detective?” He paused, scanning the car. “Pain teaches patience.”

He fired again.
The bullet grazed Kalu’s arm — heat and pain flaring instantly.

Kalu grimaced but didn’t flinch. “And I learned something else,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Old wounds open easier the second time.”

Kalu reached down, grabbed a rusted metal rod lying near the garden hose, and hurled it with precise force.
It struck the limping man’s left wrist. His gun tilted. The shot went wild.

Kalu fired his last bullet.

BANG!

The limping man staggered. The bullet tore into his belly.
He dropped to his knees, clutching the wound, gasping.

You just can’t let me walk, can you?” he murmured, his tone too calm for a man bleeding out, while blood quietly filled his lungs.

Kalu stepped closer, gun still raised — though empty.
“Some men don’t deserve to walk free in this world,” he said quietly.

For a moment, their eyes met — two hunters, neither willing to blink first.
Blood filled the limping man’s mouth as he struggled to breathe.

Kalu’s eyes dropped to the man’s pistol lying a few inches away. He bent down, grabbed it, and tried to fire.
Click.
Nothing.

The limping man let out a weak, broken laugh, coughing as blood dripped from his mouth and the wound on his stomach.

He tried again — still nothing. The gun had jammed, just like the one he used earlier inside the house.

Kalu hissed. “What the hell is wrong with your guns in this bloody organisation?”

He tried to fix it, his fingers working fast, but before he could pull the trigger again, he heard loud voices from inside — the surviving guards, shouting and charging toward the entrance door.

He froze for half a second, then turned and ran. He hated running. But sometimes survival was the smartest kind of victory.

He charged toward the sliding gate, opened it, and vanished into the bush.
Branches tore his sleeves. Leaves slapped his face.
Behind him, the mansion erupted — shouts and gunfire blending with panic.

He crawled, then ran. The sound of pursuit grew faint behind him, swallowed by the hum of the late-morning air.
By the time he reached the lonely road, his shirt was soaked in sweat and blood.

His car was still there, tucked behind the old shed.
He staggered in, dropped into the driver’s seat, heart racing.

He reached for his pocket — but froze.

His phone was gone.

He checked again. Every pocket. Nothing.
It must have fallen off during one of the fights inside the house.

"Damn it..."
He cursed quietly.

He couldn’t go back.
Not after all that gunfire. Not with that limp bastard still probably breathing somewhere inside.

He could already imagine the danger — all his contacts, messages, records… now lying somewhere in that mansion.
In the hands of The Circle.

Kalu’s hands shook as he held the steering wheel. His shirt was soaked — not just with sweat, but with his own blood.
A thin line of red ran down his arm where the bullet had scraped him. His ribs hurt badly every time he tried to breathe.
He spat blood into a tissue, wiped his mouth, and groaned as sharp pain ran through his side.
His knuckles were bruised, his face swollen, and one eye was already turning black.
His whole body ached like he had just fought death and barely escaped.
But he was still alive — and that was all that mattered.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes on the lonely road ahead.
“My phone.” he muttered. "Damn it."

The engine started. The tires rolled slowly, crushing gravel as the mansion faded away in his rear mirror.

To be continued. .Happy new month guys. Let's share and like and comment.

dawno2008:
I can't just wait for the concluding part,🤔cos this detective wan put san San for Darous garri🥺and discovering the true identity of "Aristotle"

Omo, it's getting dangerous (in Micheal Jackson's voice)
TBM no disappoint on next update abeg you ooo😕😕😕😕

I will drop it right very early tomorrow morning

Vampires live among us😂😂😂😂 she don too watch The originals

Abdulreheem:
Too sweet too short .
Thanks for the update man .
More ink to Ur elbows

that's just first part of episode 30. Remaining parts will drop soon

whalesbanks:
On Aristotle’s part….. it shows that na who sabi person dey do am….. na life irony be dat my man

how do you figure my bro

EPISODE 30 — Justice With A Limp.

Aristotle, who had been laughing a minute ago like a man too comfortable with evil, suddenly went silent after the guard barged in panting heavily.
The calmness in his eyes vanished.

He turned sharply to Chuka.
“Who’s breaching my house?”

"I can’t say for now, sir... but we need to move fast..." Chuka answered. He was already halfway to the door, pistol drawn and breathing fast.

Then Aristotle moved — quick and precise. Straight to one corner of the room that looked too plain to be noticed.

The twins, still naked and shivering in their corner, gasped as the wall let out a faint beep.
A small silver panel slid open.

Aristotle stood before it, his bare skin glistening under the dim light.

Chuka grabbed a plain shirt and jeans from the wardrobe and handed them to him.


“Wear this, sir.”

Aristotle didn’t reply. He wore it quickly — his movements clean and trained, like a man used to escaping chaos.

Then he leaned forward to the wall panel.
And right there — that was when everything inside me froze.

Still facing the wall panel, he removed his mask.
Not by accident — not carelessly. He took it off with purpose.

The silver surface of the panel reflected him faintly, blurred by light — but my eyes saw through it.
That’s my curse… or my gift. Anyhow you want to put it.
While everyone else only saw a man standing in front of a wall, I saw him — clearly, despite that I was still tied to the bed.

The lines of his face. The sharp jaw. The eyes of a man who smiles on television beside the president, talking about national safety while holding the country by the throat.

The same man who signs security contracts that never reach the soldiers they’re meant for.
The government’s quiet shadow.

The Special Adviser on National Security.

My blood froze on the spot.
Dr. Ayodele Adeleke… is Aristotle?

Oh bloody god of thunder! The whole country knows him as Double A — the clean, brilliant, untouchable genius.
But down here, in the underworld, he's Aristotle.

He leaned closer to the biometric scanner. The safe unlocked with a soft click.
He picked a pistol, a black folder, and a few files, then put his mask back on — all in one swift motion.

No one knew I’d seen his face.
Not even Chuka. By the time they turned to look, I had already shifted my eyes away, pretending I saw nothing.
They all knew about my “gift,” and if anyone even caught me glancing in that direction, it could mean my death.
That was one mistake I couldn’t afford to make — not at that moment.

He zipped the small leather bag and said coldly, “Secure the files. Move me through the west corridor. Tell Ozone to cover the lower floor.”

Chuka nodded, but before he could leave, he asked, “Sir… what about Spicy? Where should we move her?”

Aristotle stopped. Turned slowly.
“Spicy is here?”

Chuka hesitated. “Yes, sir. She arrived some minutes ago.”

Aristotle’s jaw tightened. “Move her to the red suite. And make sure to keep her safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Aristotle looked at the guard standing near the door — his tone dropping into ice.
“Listen carefully, Keep my twins safe." He then shifted his gaze to me and Cynthia. " Don't touch these ones too but if they try anything stupid… shoot the woman first." He then pointed at me " And this one, make him fvck her corpse for one hour before you put a bullet in his skull.”

His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. It was the kind of tone that told you he meant every word.

The guard nodded immediately.

Aristotle and Chuka left the room.
The lock clicked.

And silence returned.

The twins were still huddled together in the corner of the bed, naked and trembling, their bodies shaking each time another gunshot echoed through the house.

Cynthia sat beside me, the bedsheet clutched to her chest, her breathing shallow.

She turned slowly, eyes glossy, voice trembling.
“If we make it out of here alive,” she whispered, “no one must ever know what happened between us.”

I gave a small nod. “Deal. But let’s stay alive first.”

“Quiet!" The guard barked. "One more word and I’ll blow both your heads off!”

The sound of his voice slapped the air.
Cynthia flinched. I didn’t move.

The twins whimpered softly. The smaller one buried her face in the other’s chest. It was impossible to tell who was trying to protect who anymore.

Outside, the gunfire had stopped.

The air turned still — too still. The kind of quiet that makes you realize you might already be inside death’s waiting room.

The guard’s hand tightened on his gun. Sweat ran down his neck. His eyes kept darting between us and the door.

Then came the noise that froze everyone.


A loud, heavy bang hit the wall outside.

The chandelier above us swayed, scattering dust from the ceiling.

Then the door handle twitched — once, slowly.

The guard froze, his gun shaking in his hands. “Who’s there?” he barked, voice cracking just a little.

Silence.

He paused and trembled for some seconds before he took one cautious step forward—then it happened.

PRAA!

A bullet tore through the wooden door, hitting him straight in the left eye. His body jerked once and collapsed like a sack of beans. Blood splashed across the floor, spreading fast.

The echo of the shot hung in the air, heavy and deadly.



Remaining parts dropping later... Let's have your comments first

Next episode is ready ooooo😂😂😂

Ohibenemma:
Explosive! The heat his hon!!!

This is crackingly suspensive! I can't wait for the next update. Bring it on, TheBlessedMAN!

we gather dey. Next update cooking

Damilgodwin:
To be continued ke😁😁😁😁

After our long waiting 😁😁😁

Baba stop this play na.

😂are we not supporting to be continued?