The compound had never been this tense before. Monitors blazed with alarm; beeps beeped in rapid succession, and Yemisi was able to count. Everyone was on edge, moving with snappy urgency. The Veilbreakers had made the move public, and the world watched, but so did Obasi. Laila was at the center of it all, her face deprived of emotion, her eyes bristling with intent. Kaima handed her a tablet. "We just crossed a hundred thousand views. And comments are flooding in. Some are survivors. Others are offering evidence. Some are threats." Cassian leaned against the wall nearby. "We expected that." Laila nodded. "How's the lockdown protocol?" "Stable," Tobi replied from across the room. "I've blocked every incoming trace route. Our lines are clean. But if they want in, they'll keep trying." "They already are," Yemisi said. "Someone tried a brute-force on our mirror archive an hour back. Didn't succeed. But that was a warning." Laila looked around at the group. "No more waiting. We respond." Kaima was already typing. "Give me an hour." Fifty-three minutes went by before Kaima had a lead. "Mira went to a rural clinic just outside of Kano in her final year. It was privately funded, undercover. Rumors of medical experiments; illegally conducted trials." Cassian cursed under his breath. "They think they can tarnish her reputation." Laila's jaw hardened. "They think that will be enough to stop us." "Should we take down the footage?" Tobi asked. "No," Laila replied. "We release more." "Even if they smear her name?" Yemisi asked. Laila looked straight at her. "We're not here to preserve legacies. We're here to tell the truth." The next drop was scheduled for dawn. This time, the footage was raw survivors speaking without blur or disguise. Their stories were painful, graphic, and unfiltered. And among them was a voice they hadn't expected. The defector. He requested to speak on record. "You want the truth? I'll tell you. Obasi didn't create this system. He inherited it. We all contributed. And we allowed silence to rot, because it benefited us to turn a blind eye." His testimony was devastating. Names. Dates. Processes. "He had individuals within education boards, adoption agencies, and medical companies. Your names weren't just targets. They were inventory." The video shook the network. And it hit the headlines. International journalists reported on it. Activists reached out to them. But so did critics. One major news outlet ran a counter-story: "Is the Veilbreaker Movement Built on a Lie?" They questioned the video, the eyewitnesses, and Mira's past. But the momentum didn't falter. Instead, it spread. Meanwhile, Laila was sitting in her mother's old armchair, going through a sealed envelope Cassian found hidden behind a false drawer. It was addressed to her. Inside was a page torn from Mira's final journal. "If they ever try to take your silence, give them the noise of fire." Laila held onto the paper for a moment. "She knew," she whispered. "She always knew it would come to this." Cassian stepped closer. "They've upped surveillance. We may need to clear out the compound." Laila didn't raise her head. "Then we move. But not quietly." That night, the compound lights went dark. They all packed hastily. Drives, files, and photos are all encrypted and backed up. The new safe house was twenty kilometers south, guarded by outdated signal blockers and surrounded by locals who sympathized with Mira's movement. Laila saw a final glimpse of the compound. Then she entered the van. The road was quiet. But she knew quiet wasn't peace. It was planned. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the clouds were low. Kemi and Cassian led a small group to relocate the last group of vulnerable families. They were all safely in position now, unknown to none of even the members of the compound. At the compound, Laila recorded another video. Her voice was firmer this time. "You threatened our kids. You stalked our families. You tried to shut us up again. But this story will not have the same conclusion as the others." She didn't falter. Not when the comments turned venomous. Not when anonymous accounts posted cryptic threats. She had decided. And the world would no longer turn a blind eye. That night, Cassian returned with an envelope that was closed. "No return address," he said, handing it to her. "Dropped by the gate." Laila opened it slowly. There was one sheet of paper within. Typed. Clean. "We see you. And we remember what happened in Kano. Retract the footage, or the next video will show what your mother hid.
" Cassian's fists clenched. "They're bluffing." Laila shook her head. "No. They're daring us." She placed the paper on the table and went to Mira's journal. "She never said anything about Kano," she said softly. Kemi stepped in. "Then we find out. We trace her old connections. Her whereabouts. Anyone she confided in." They got there to discover temporary operations already established by Kaima. The Veilbreakers are too big to handle. Yemisi stepped forward with a tablet. "You must see this." There was a new video that had surfaced. But not theirs. It showed a grainy clip; Mira in a hospital, standing up to a doctor. Her voice was low but authoritative. "We can't continue experimenting on these children. You said the trials were halted." "They were," the man spat. "Until the funding was restored." Laila sat with her eyes glued to the screen. Her mother's face. Her voice. "I will no longer be a part of this," Mira said in the recording. The video stopped. And the caption below it was: "Hero or accomplice? Who really was Mira Okoye?" Kemi turned to Laila. "What do we do?" Laila closed her eyes. And opened them again. "We tell the whole story. Even the parts that cause us to bleed."