The gunfire had stopped, but the silence was louder.
Adesuwa crouched behind a blood-smeared table in the now-ravaged safehouse, her pulse thudding like war drums against her ribcage. Smoke hung thick in the air, clinging to everything like regret. Shadows flickered across the floor as the dying embers of fire licked what was left of the curtains.
Across from her, Nosa was slumped, barely conscious, blood leaking from a wound near his collarbone. His eyes fluttered open only when she shook him violently.
"Nosa—hey! Stay with me!" She whispered, her voice cracking.
"They… they knew we were here," he rasped. "The Circle… they knew."
She didn't need the confirmation. The breach wasn't just a coincidence. It was precise. Surgical. Betrayal lived among them, and whoever it was had just signed Nosa's death warrant—unless she did something, fast.
She tightened a makeshift bandage around his shoulder using the shredded sleeve of her blouse. "You're not dying here. Not today."
Outside, sirens echoed, distant but drawing closer. Not the police. These were private contractors—the Circle's mercenaries dressed as law. Adesuwa recognized the rhythm of the engines, the way they moved like wolves on the scent of blood.
The stolen USB still burned in her pocket like a curse. It held truths that were never meant to see daylight—Project Sunrise, the list of operatives embedded in the government, and the footage that could collapse the Circle's network in Lagos.
And kill anyone foolish enough to carry it.
"Can you walk?" she asked.
Nosa gave a faint nod.
They moved quickly, slipping through the back entrance of the building into the narrow alleyways of Mushin. Adesuwa knew the city like she knew her scars. Each pothole, each rusted gate, and each dangling electric wire was a familiar enemy.
The streetlight above flickered erratically as they limped forward.
Suddenly, headlights bloomed behind them.
"Run!" Adesuwa hissed.
They darted into a shortcut between two high walls, barely avoiding the sweep of light. Behind them, the van skidded, tires screeching against asphalt. Doors opened. Boots thundered after them.
Adesuwa pulled Nosa into a drainage tunnel and slid the metal grate shut behind them. Darkness swallowed them whole, broken only by the echo of breath and fear.
"Where does this road lead?" Nosa murmured.
"To someone who owes me a life."
Ten minutes later, they surfaced in a half-collapsed workshop near Ojuelegba. Inside, lanterns cast a dim glow over half-assembled machines and cracked cement floors. A man with dreadlocks and military tattoos emerged from the shadows.
"Thought you were dead," he muttered, folding his arms.
"Still might be," Adesuwa said. "If you don't help us."
The man grunted. "Iboi's watching your every move. He's got surveillance from here to Eko Bridge."
"I know. That's why we need to disappear."
She pulled out the USB and held it up.
"I need this drive decrypted, clean. And fast."
The man's gaze sharpened. "You do realize this is suicidal, right? You're not just exposing secrets. You're ripping the heart out of their machine."
"I've got blood on my hands already," she said. "Might as well make it count."
While the USB was being processed, Adesuwa tried to catch a moment's rest. But sleep evaded her like peace had for years.
She saw them again.
Her parents.
Their hands were bloodied from shielding her during the raid in Kaduna. Their faces pale under the fluorescent lights of the refugee hospital. Their bodies were buried in silence when the world didn't want their truth.
The Circle had done that. Long before she'd known what the name even meant.
Adesuwa woke with a start, her fists clenched so tight her nails had drawn blood from her palms.
Nosa was watching her from the mattress across the room.
"Nightmares?" he asked.
"Memories."
He nodded slowly. "We all carry them. Some are heavier than others."
Before she could respond, the man with dreadlocks returned.
"It's decrypted," he said. "You might want to sit down."
The footage was grainy, but the audio was clear.
Iboi's voice.
"…make sure she never leaves Lagos alive. The girl knows too much. Sunrise cannot be exposed."
There were coordinates. Orders. Faces she recognized—high-ranking officials, celebrities, even journalists—each one a puppet dancing on the Circle's strings.
And then came the last file.
A live video feed, timestamped two hours ago.
A woman sat tied to a chair in a small, concrete room lit only by a dangling bulb.
"Is that…?"
Adesuwa leaned closer.
Her heart shattered.
It was Mariam.
Alive.
Bruised. Tortured. But alive.
Iboi's voice echoed through the speaker in the room.
"She's the bait. Let Adesuwa come. And when she does, bury them both."
The next 12 hours were a blur.
Adesuwa and Nosa mapped out a plan. The hideout where Mariam was kept was under the old church district near Lagos Island—one of the most fortified outposts the Circle used.
But she had no choice.
She had to go. For Mariam. For closure. For the city.
"You know it's a trap," Nosa said.
"I know," Adesuwa replied. "But some traps are worth walking into."
Dawn broke with a crimson sky.
The safehouse doors exploded inward.
Adesuwa moved like fire—silent, consuming, and merciless. Her silencer whispered death into the ears of guards. Nosa covered the left flank, taking out the surveillance team.
Room by room, they cleared the building.
Finally, they reached a steel door.
Beyond it, silence.
She pushed it open.
Mariam looked up, eyes wide. "You came."
Adesuwa ran to her and cut the ropes.
But before they could embrace—
A slow clap echoed behind them.
Iboi.
Flanked by two guards, gun drawn.
"You always had a flair for drama, Adesuwa."
"I could say the same about you," she said.
He smiled. "You know what happens now?"
Adesuwa raised her gun. "Yes. You fall."
The gunfight lasted seconds.
Iboi was faster.
But Adesuwa was desperate.
And desperation has a trigger finger.
A bullet tore through Iboi's shoulder. He stumbled back. Nosa tackled the guards. In the chaos, Mariam grabbed a loose pipe and swung hard, fracturing Iboi's skull.
It was over.
They stood over his broken body, breath ragged, hearts pounding.
"You think this ends it?" Iboi coughed.
Adesuwa leaned in close.
"No. But it starts something new."
She pulled out the USB, smashed it on the ground, and dropped a burner drive into his chest pocket.
"Let the world hear your lies. In your voice."
They walked out into the sunlight.
Lagos was still loud. Still restless. Still bleeding.
But something had changed.
For the first time, Adesuwa felt the city breathe with her.
She wasn't just a survivor.
She was the echo.
And it had finally found its voice.