Jamal had always known that peace was a fleeting illusion. Two weeks had passed since they left Lagos, but the weight of the past never truly lifted. The city might have moved on, but the streets never forgot. They had settled in a quiet coastal town, far from the chaos of Lagos. The air was different here —cleaner, lighter. The kind of place that could make a man believe in second chances. Jamal sat at a small café near the beach, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. Nadine sat across from him, eyes on the waves, her expression unreadable. Malik and Khalil had chosen to stay behind in Lagos, each finding their own path now that the war was over. But for Jamal and Nadine, Lagos was too loud, too full of ghosts. Still, the silence didn’t feel right. Not for long. A Visitor from the Past The first sign that their past wasn’t done with them came in the form of an envelope. It was waiting for them on their doorstep one morning, no name, no return address. Just a single folded note

Jamal sat across from Obinna Lawal, his hands resting on the polished mahogany table of the private lounge. The air was thick with the scent of cigars and expensive whiskey, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls.Obinna was calm, too calm. His eyes held the confidence of a man who had nothing to fear, a man who had seen countless men like Jamal rise and fall.“The Broker is not someone you find, Jamal,” Obinna said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “He finds you. And when he does... well, let’s just say it’s rarely a pleasant experience.”Jamal leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “I’m not looking for a meeting. I’m looking for an end.”Obinna chuckled, shaking his head. “You think you’re the first person to try? The Broker is untouchable. He doesn’t deal in petty crime. He deals in power—real power. He has judges, police commissioners, senators. You take out one man, and ten more will replace him.”Jamal wasn’t fazed. “You talk like you know him personally.”Ob

The echoes of gunfire still rang in Jamal’s ears as he pressed himself against the wall, his breath shallow. Smoke curled through the private lounge, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and blood. Victor Adewale stood across the room, his pristine suit now stained with crimson as he clutched his side where a bullet had grazed him. Jamal exchanged a quick glance with Malik and Khalil. They had neutralized most of the gunmen, but the damage was already done. The Broker’s men had made their move. Victor’s expression was unreadable, his smirk still intact despite the chaos. “Well, that escalated quickly.” Jamal’s grip on his gun tightened. “You knew this was coming.” Victor let out a breathy chuckle. “I suspected. But even I didn’t think they’d be this bold.” Malik scanned the room, checking the bodies. “We need to move. More will be coming.” Victor winced as he straightened up. “That’s an understatement. You’ve just declared war on an empire.” Jamal holstered his gun, steppi

Jamal sat in the dimly lit safe house, his hands clasped together as he studied the map spread across the wooden table. The walls were covered with photographs, notes, and red lines connecting faces, locations, and events—everything they had gathered on The Broker and the remnants of the Syndicate. It had taken months to reach this point, and now, everything was coming to a head.Malik leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Jamal with a concerned expression. “You’re too quiet, bro. That’s never a good sign.”Jamal exhaled. “Just thinking. The Broker’s next move won’t be simple. We’re running out of time.”Khalil, who was loading rounds into a pistol, smirked. “That’s why we strike first.”Nadine stood near the window, watching the street below. “It’s not that easy. We don’t know where The Broker actually is. We just know the people who work for him. And from what we’ve seen, he’s got his hands in everything—politics, business, crime. Taking him down isn’t like taking down Jul

Jamal’s pulse pounded in his ears as the weight of the moment settled on him. The Broker’s lifeless body lay at his feet, his blood pooling across the sleek marble floor. The echoes of the final gunshot still hung in the air, but something even more ominous had taken its place—the sound of approaching sirens.This wasn’t just any police response. This was a setup.Jamal’s fingers clenched around his gun. He had been in bad situations before, but this was different. This was a high-profile assassination, a crime that would shake the foundations of Lagos’ underworld. If he didn’t move fast, he’d be dead—or worse, rotting in a cell while the real players walked free.Footsteps thundered down the hall.He turned, gun raised, but before he could react, Nadine’s voice cut through the chaos.“Jamal! We have to go!”She emerged from the smoke-filled hallway, her face streaked with dirt, eyes sharp with urgency. Malik and Khalil followed close behind, both breathing hard.Jamal nodded. “Roof.