The Lagos Directive

Unknown Black-Site

The cell reeked of rust, excrement, and slow death.

Hadji slumped forward, wrists torn raw against the chains, breath shallow, cracked ribs creaking with each inhale. Blood dried against his jaw like paint. Every sound was pain.

The steel door groaned open.

Two figures stepped in.

First came Ekun, alive, breathing, smirking like a gremlin. His face was leaner now, jaw clenched hard. His eyes had changed, no light left, just calculation and something colder.

“You’re still tough as nails sha,” Ekun said, crouching, voice low. “A real bansa.”

Hadji’s head lifted slowly. “I watched your chest explode. How… how are you still alive?”

Ekun’s smirk sharpened. “Émí Ekun?! The unkillable,” he murmured, ice lacing his words. “Oga’s team brought me back from death’s door.”

He leaned in closer, breath on Hadji’s face. “He promised me your life… and OW-T’s head.” His gaze, void of warmth. “That was all the hate I needed.”

“You became his dog,” Hadji muttered.

Behind him, Falaye entered, cloaked in a loose navy senator wear, quiet power in each step. No emotion, just menace carved into bone.

“Hadji,” he said flatly. “Mr. Mind Games. You forgot who wrote your manual ehn. I’ll remind you.”

Hadji gave a dry chuckle, flecks of blood in his teeth. “I don’t have what you’re chasing.”

Falaye didn’t blink. “You rerouted my convoy. You helped her vanish. You’ve cost me so much.”

Falaye stepped closer. “Where is she, Hadji?”

Silence.

Ekun struck, elbow to ribs. The crack echoed. Hadji’s scream vibrated the walls.

Falaye adjusted his senator calmly, already turning away. “Prepare him for ‘zafi’. Peel him, layer by layer. He’ll talk before he dies.”

Ekun’s grin widened, dark and unyielding. “Walahi, I will enjoy every moment of tearing you apart.”

He grabbed the chair and dragged it with a screech across the concrete, the sound scraping Hadji’s spine. The door slammed shut behind them.

Darkness again.

Hadji’s heart thudded. Not just from fear, but calculation.

He wasn’t just bleeding, he was stalling. Long enough for Ogun, if he was out there, to read the clue he left behind. A pattern. A cipher only OW-T could see.

But fear slipped in like a whisper. Because Ekun had once been his blood. They had fought back-to-back in Jos, nearly froze together in Sambisa, saved each other’s lives more than once.

And now?

Now Ekun had become something else, Falaye’s blade, sharpened by betrayal and hatred.

Hadji whispered to the silence, more prayer than defiance. “Ogun, if you’re coming… come fast.”

Because zafi meant agony. And the next round wouldn’t just break bones, it will break him.