Jamal walked deeper into Elysium, his gaze calm but calculating. Every conversation, every glance, every movement in this club carried weight. This was where Lagos’ real power brokers gathered—not in government offices or corporate boardrooms, but here, behind velvet curtains and whispered deals. Nadine moved beside him, her confidence unwavering. She had been in places like this before, though never this deep into the system. Khalil and Malik stayed close, playing their roles as silent bodyguards, scanning the room for threats. Jamal spotted Obinna near the bar, already drinking. Their “friend” had gotten them inside, but that was the easy part. The real challenge was finding The Broker’s people—the men who whispered orders that made politicians tremble. Julius had said this was their meeting ground. That meant someone in this room was the key to their next move. Jamal leaned closer to Nadine. “Watch their movements. The real players don’t socialize for fun— they do business.” S

Jamal sat on the hood of Malik’s car, parked in a dimly lit warehouse lot on the outskirts of Lagos. The night air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. In the distance, the remnants of the Rosewood Casino still smoldered. Malik leaned against the car, arms crossed. “You know Hassan isn’t gonna let this slide.” Jamal flicked the bullet Hassan had sent him into the dirt. “I’m counting on that.” Nadine, standing nearby, checked her phone. “We should lay low for a while. That fire didn’t just take Hassan’s money—it pissed off a lot of people.” Khalil scoffed. “Lay low? You think Hassan’s just gonna forget?” He turned to Jamal. “He’ll retaliate. Hard.” Jamal nodded. “I know.” Just then, Nadine’s phone buzzed. Her expression darkened as she read the message. “What?” Malik asked. She hesitated. “It’s my shop.” Jamal tensed. “What about it?” Nadine exhaled sharply. “It’s gone.” Hassan’s First Move The drive to Nadine’s shop was tense. By the time they arrived,

The morning air in Lagos was thick with tension. Word of Razaq’s death spread fast—too fast. By the time Jamal and his team made it back to the safe house, Hassan’s men were already on the hunt. Jamal sat at the wooden table, reloading his gun with steady hands. His mind was clear. No more running. No more hiding. This was war. Malik paced near the window, peeking through the blinds. “We stirred the hornet’s nest, bro. Hassan’s got his men checking every corner of the city.” Khalil nodded. “He won’t let this slide. We need to move.” Nadine, her arms crossed, spoke up. “No. We make him come to us.” Jamal looked at her. She stepped forward. “We’ve been playing on the defensive. It’s time to pull Hassan out of his comfort zone.” Jamal smirked. “You got something in mind?” She nodded. “I know where he launders his money. If we hit that, we don’t just piss him off—we cripple him.” Cutting the Lifeline Hassan’s money moved through a high-end nightclub in Victoria Island—The Mirage

Hassan stared at the shattered laptop screen in front of him, his hand still clenched around the glass he had thrown in rage. Club Vortex was gone. Not just the building, but the money, the records, the accounts. Years of careful laundering wiped out overnight. “This is impossible,” one of his men stammered. “No one could’ve—” Hassan’s glare silenced him. “Shut up.” His mind raced. The only people who knew the club’s financial setup were his most trusted men. Could one of them have betrayed him? Or... was it possible? Was Jamal still alive? No. He had seen the attack. The car explosion. The blood. And yet—this was Jamal’s style. Hassan took a deep breath, forcing himself to think. If Jamal was alive, then he had declared war. And war was something Hassan never lost. He turned to his second-in-command, a cold, calculating enforcer named Bashir. “Find out who did this,” Hassan ordered. “And if Jamal is alive...” He smiled darkly. “...bring me his head.” The Setup Meanwhile,

Jamal froze as the cold metal of the gun barrel pressed against his back. The clack of the safety lever and the slow, deliberate cock of the trigger punctuated the silence in the now-empty club. His heart pounded in his ears, and every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation. For a moment, time seemed to stretch out, the flickering neon lights outside painting erratic shadows on the bloodstained floor. “You really thought it’d be that easy?” the stranger drawled, his voice low and mocking. The tone was venomous, carrying the unmistakable weight of someone who operated on the highest stakes of the criminal underworld. Jamal’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but the man’s grip on the gun was unyielding. Slowly, Jamal raised his hands in surrender, his mind churning through possibilities even as he maintained a facade of calm. “Who are you?” Jamal managed to say, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. A thin smile spread across the messenger