"Every fire starts with a spark but it takes silence to make it an inferno."
— Ibrahim Dalhatu, in an unsent letter to his daughter
Zina hadn't meant to shoot him.
But in that moment, with Colonel Musa charging, the weight of grief and betrayal in her chest, and Sparrow bleeding behind her, instinct won.
And now the colonel lay dead on her floor.
The blood had soaked deep into her carpet. The silence that followed was louder than the gunshot itself.
Zina stood frozen, gun in hand, chest heaving. Then the absurdity of the situation crept in her father's killer on the floor, her shoulder bruised, and her favorite rug ruined.
"Damn it," she muttered. "That rug was expensive."
Sparrow gave a pained laugh from the floor. "Glad to see your priorities are intact."
Zina turned, snorted once, and they both started laughing. It was dark, inappropriate laughter the kind that rises when you're standing too close to the edge.
Hours Later
Zina's apartment looked like the aftermath of a spy movie.
Colonel Musa's body was gone thanks to Sparrow's "contacts." The rug was rolled up and set on fire in the back alley. The gun wiped clean. But no amount of bleach or burned carpet could scrub the memory away.
She collapsed on the couch, exhaustion pulling at her spine. Sparrow was passed out on the guest bed, her shoulder wrapped and iced.
Zina reached for her phone and saw five missed calls from Aurelian.
She stared at the name.
Part of her wanted to scream. Another part wanted to curl up in his arms and demand an explanation. And an embarrassingly dangerous part of her just wanted to see his face.
The moment she typed "Where are you?" he replied instantly:
"Parking. Open the door."
Zina didn't say a word when she opened the door.
Aurelian stepped in slowly, wearing a dark suit without a tie, his jaw tense, his eyes scanning her for injury.
"You're okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "You?"
"I will be. Once I know why you're not pointing a gun at me."
She stepped aside and let him in. He glanced at the bloodstained floor.
"Is that...?"
"Colonel Musa," she said flatly.
His eyebrows lifted. "You shot him?"
"He broke in. Had a gun. I won."
A beat passed.
"I'm both terrified and turned on," he muttered.
Zina rolled her eyes. "Spare me."
He smirked. "Just saying, there's something dangerously attractive about a woman who can kill and crack a legal argument in the same breath."
Zina didn't smile but her cheeks burned anyway.
She sat, arms crossed. "You lied to me, Royce. That NDA you signed. You knew something."
He exhaled slowly and dropped his coat. "I didn't know the full picture. I signed it for a committee position, months ago. Your father's name wasn't in it. At the time, I thought it was about some petty reorganization crap. But I had a feeling so I started looking deeper."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't know who to trust," he said.
"You trust me when I'm naked, but not when we're chasing murderers?" she snapped.
Aurelian paused. "That was low."
"So was the lie."
Their eyes locked.
Silence.
He stepped closer. "Zina. I didn't come here for an argument. I came here because if you die, I'd lose the only reason I haven't already burned this city to the ground."
Her breath caught.
"You don't get to say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes me want to believe you."
And before either of them could think twice, she closed the gap between them.
Their lips crashed.
Finally... A Spark
The kiss was fire and confusion, desire and grief. His hands tangled in her hair. Hers clutched his shirt like a lifeline. The city outside didn't exist. The war didn't matter. For thirty blissful seconds, she let herself forget.
Then she pulled away.
Her voice was breathless. "This changes nothing."
"Of course not," he whispered. "It just makes everything worse."
From the hallway, Sparrow groaned. "If y'all are done dry-humping justice, can someone bring me water?"
Zina blinked.
Aurelian chuckled and muttered, "Your friend's a menace."
Zina nodded. "But she's got better aim than I do."
Sparrow shouted, "I heard that."
Later, Zina shared the contents of the flash drive with Aurelian. They poured over files until 2 a.m.
Then something new appeared hidden under a folder labeled "Historical Archives."
A list of offshore account numbers.
Attached to each: code names. And initials.
One jumped out at her.
A. D.
Zina blinked. "That's not my father's…"
"No," Aurelian said. "That's Alhaji Dikko. Gambo's old sponsor. A ghost in the system. People thought he died in '09."
Zina clicked on a linked file.
It was a shipment record arms shipments. Tied to a company registered in Dubai. The same company that sent political "donations" to three top senators... including Gambo.
The pattern was obvious now.
They weren't just covering up corruption.
They were laundering money through wars.
And Ibrahim Dalhatu had been two weeks away from going public before he died.
Just When You Think It's Safe...
Aurelian closed the laptop. "We need protection. And allies."
Zina nodded. "Who do we trust?"
He hesitated. "I may have one contact left. But we'll have to fly out. Tonight."
"Where?"
"Accra. Ghana."
Zina blinked. "Why there?"
"Because that's where the next shipment is landing."
And then Zina's phone buzzed again.
"You're getting too close. If you leave the country, your mother dies."
She paled.
"My mother… she's still in Kaduna."
Aurelian stood. "We need to get her out. Now."
Zina's hand trembled. "They know everything. They're watching every move."
Aurelian grabbed her shoulders. "Then we stop being scared. We start playing dirtier."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Reader family,
Zina finally kissed the enemy… or maybe her only ally. But with every clue they uncover, the threat grows deadlier. Now her mother's life is on the line, and a global arms ring is unraveling.
Let's talk
Was the kiss too soon or perfectly timed?
Do you trust Aurelian? Why or why not?
Should Zina leave the country… or fight from within?
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New chapters every day. Suspense. Romance. Justice.