The car sped through the silent backroads of Lagos like it had no intention of stopping. The windows were tinted dark, but Kelechi could still see shadows chasing them—shadows only she seemed to feel. Her hands trembled against her thighs, knuckles pale.
Seyi lay in the back, strapped to an IV line one of the men had inserted mid-drive. Her lips were no longer blue, but she hadn't stirred.
Not once.
Kelechi had learned how to monitor vitals. She knew what shallow breathing meant. What the rise and fall of the chest could tell you. Seyi was stable—barely—but something deeper was wrong. Something no drug could fix.
"You said you've been watching me," she said coldly, turning to the man beside her. "Why? Why now?"
The man didn't look at her. "Because now… you're useful."
Kelechi's stomach twisted.
He continued, calm and unreadable. "The moment you walked into that warehouse, you crossed a line. And that line runs deeper than anything you understand. We protect our operations. Always."
"You call that protection?" she hissed. "You sent those men to kill us."
"No," he said simply. "Those men weren't ours."
That shut her up.
"You've been circling something for weeks. Making noise in the wrong places. Talking to the wrong people. It's messy, but it's not unfixable. Not yet."
Kelechi stared at him. "And Seyi?"
He turned his head. For the first time, he really looked at her.
"She was just leverage. Wrong place, wrong time. But now that you've shown you'll burn the world down for her…" He leaned in slightly. "We'd rather keep you on our side."
The words hit like a slap. Kelechi's throat burned.
"You want me to work for you?"
"No," he said, lips barely moving. "We want you to choose. Sink with your sister, or swim with us."
She laughed—sharp, bitter. "I'm not some pawn. If you think I'll help you after what you've done—"
He cut in. "We know what you've been doing at the hospital. The files you accessed. The names you've traced. The containers you followed from Apapa Port to Yaba. You're smart, Kelechi. Brave. Maybe too brave. But you're just one woman. And we are… bigger."
Kelechi blinked.
Wait. The containers.
He knew.
They'd been watching her longer than she thought.
He leaned back, satisfied with the silence. "We're not your enemy. Not unless you make us one."
The car slowed, tires crunching gravel. Ahead was a large, sterile-looking compound—clinical and gray, like it had never seen sunlight. Men in black stood at the gate.
"We'll fix your sister," he said. "In return, you give us what we want."
Kelechi's lips tightened. "Which is?"
"Access. Access to the hospital's digital records. The narcotic chain-of-custody system. The hidden pharmacy downstairs. You know the one."
She flinched.
So they knew everything.
"Do this," he added, "and you walk away clean. You and your sister. New passports. Fresh names. A life far away."
"And if I say no?"
He smiled, slow and cold. "Then we'll let your sister wake up. Just long enough to watch you die."