The sun didn't rise gently that morning.
It tore into the sky like a wound—angry, urgent, blood-red.
Zainab was already awake.She hadn't slept.The scissors sat on the table beside her like a silent partner.
She kept glancing at the door, waiting for it to creak.For a boot to kick it open.For the end to come early.
But it didn't.
At least, not yet.
8:07AM.
Her burner phone buzzed once.A text.From an untraceable number.
"The ghosts are watching.Don't look out the window."
Her spine stiffened.
She resisted the urge, but her heart betrayed her. Her eyes moved—just enough to catch it.
A black Toyota Corolla parked just across the sandy path.Tinted. Engine off. No movement.
The fear she had kept buried began to crawl up her throat.
Zainab stood slowly.Moved toward the back of the house.Unlocked the kitchen exit without making a sound.
The bush behind the compound was thick. She had no idea where it led, but she couldn't stay here.
She grabbed the red diary, the burner phone, and a folded copy of her testimony notes.Then slipped through the back door—like smoke.
10 minutes later.She was running.
Barefoot.Scarf flying.Branches slapping her face.
She didn't know where she was going.
She just ran.
Until the ground swallowed her.
A ditch.
She fell, rolled, landed hard.
Her wrist twisted. Pain shot up her arm.But she didn't scream.
Not yet.
She crawled into the ditch's shade, breathing heavily.
That's when she saw him.
A man. Slender. Hooded.Standing at the top of the ditch.
Not moving.
Just… watching.
Zainab froze.
Then he spoke.
"You should've picked sewing machines, not battles."
Her heart dropped.
She recognized the voice.
Dapo.
He jumped into the ditch without warning.
Landed like a demon in slow motion.
Zainab scrambled back, raised her scissors with her left hand—her right arm limp and useless.
"You came all the way to Badagry for me?" she hissed.
Dapo smiled. "You were always worth chasing."
"Why? Because I know the truth?"
"No," he said. "Because I told you the truth once… and you still left."
She blinked.
What?
"I trusted you, Zainab," he continued. "I showed you the real me. And instead of standing by me, you ran. Like all of them do."
Zainab gritted her teeth."You lied. You used me."
Dapo crouched beside her.
"I loved you."
He reached for the scissors.
She didn't let him.
She swung them—cut his cheek.
Blood poured immediately.
He roared.
Grabbed her by the throat.
But before he could squeeze—
A voice rang out.
"Let her go, Dapo."
They both froze.
Obinna.
He stood above the ditch now. Gun drawn. Eyes red with rage.
Dapo laughed. "Still playing the hero, Obi?"
Obi's voice was like gravel. "Drop her. Or I'll paint this sand with your skull."
Dapo hesitated.Then released her.
Zainab slumped, coughing. Breathing.
Obi fired.
One shot.
Dapo's shoulder exploded.
He fell back with a scream.
Obi jumped in.
Grabbed Zainab. Pulled her out of the ditch.
"Come. We don't have time."
She looked at him.Tears. Blood. Relief.
"You followed me?"
"I never left."
30 minutes later.
They were in an old fisherman's hut by the riverside.Zainab's wrist was wrapped. Her hands shook.
Obi paced.
"We have to move again. They won't stop now. You've made it personal."
Zainab stared at her red diary.
"I'm not hiding anymore."
Obi looked at her. "Zee…"
"I'm finishing this. I'm going back to Lagos. I'm releasing everything."
Obi shook his head. "You'll die."
Zainab's voice was low, steady, and dangerous:
"Then I'll die loud."