They regrouped in silence.
The abandoned schoolyard felt too open now, too exposed. Musa led them through a broken fence and into a half-buried maintenance tunnel that smelled of mold and rust. Only when they were deep enough that the city's noise dulled to a distant thrum did anyone speak.
Zara replayed the video once more, slower this time. Bello's voice was smooth, confident—the voice of a man who believed the world bent naturally toward him.
"Return what belongs to me," Bello said again, smiling somewhere off-screen.
Dami clenched his jaw until it hurt. "He wants a trade."
Musa shook his head. "He wants control. Trades imply fairness."
Zara paused the video on his cousin's face. The bruises were fresh. The fear wasn't. That scared Dami more than the guns had.
"He's alive," Dami said. "For now."
"That's the hook," Zara replied. "Bello doesn't rush what he enjoys."
Musa unfolded a map on the floor, weighting the corners with loose stones. "He'll pick a place where he owns the angles. Cameras. Escape routes. Friendly uniforms."
Dami stared at the map, forcing his breathing to slow. "He named a time?"
Zara checked the message metadata. "Tomorrow night. He'll send coordinates."
Musa exhaled. "Sooner than I'd like."
Dami looked at the backpack. The case inside felt like a live wire. "If we give it to him—"
"We don't," Zara cut in. "We never give him the whole thing."
Musa nodded. "Split the proof. Dead-man triggers. Redundancy."
Dami frowned. "Explain."
Musa pulled a laptop from a battered case and powered it on. "The drive has layers. We copy everything. Upload fragments to multiple drops. If Bello kills us—or your cousin—the rest leaks."
Zara added, "And we bring a decoy. Something that looks real enough to buy time."
Dami swallowed. "Time for what?"
"For leverage," Zara said. "And for you to get close."
Silence settled again. Dami knew what they were circling.
"You want me as bait," he said.
Musa met his eyes. "You're the only one he wants alive."
Dami nodded slowly. "Then I'll go."
Zara's jaw tightened. "You won't go alone."
They worked through the day like surgeons. Musa's fingers flew over the keyboard, copying, encrypting, splitting files. Zara moved between rooms, checking weapons, testing radios, changing plates on a small drone. Dami watched, learned, asked questions—and then practiced until his hands steadied.
By dusk, the message came.
Coordinates. An old waterfront exchange, long condemned, surrounded by cranes and skeletal warehouses. Bello's territory.
"He chose the water," Musa said. "Limits exits."
Zara zipped a jacket over her holster. "And hides bodies."
They moved at night.
Rain returned in sheets, turning the docks into mirrors. The exchange loomed ahead, a concrete beast with broken windows and a single row of lights burning inside. Bello wanted to be seen.
Dami stepped out first, backpack slung low. Zara and Musa melted into the dark, separate paths, separate plans.
Inside, the air smelled of oil and salt. Footsteps echoed. Men stood along the walls—too many. Polite smiles. Hard eyes.
At the center, a table. A chair. Another chair.
Chief Kadir Bello rose as Dami approached.
He was shorter than Dami expected. Neat. Expensive watch. Calm like a priest.
"Damilola Cole," Bello said warmly. "You've been inconvenient."
Dami stopped two steps short of the table. "Where's my cousin?"
Bello gestured. A side door opened. Two men brought him in—alive, shaking, tied. Relief punched the air from Dami's lungs.
"Alive," Bello said. "Because I am a man of my word."
Dami set the backpack on the table. "Then let him go."
Bello chuckled. "We negotiate like adults."
He sat. "You hand me the case. I release him. Simple."
Dami met his gaze. "You frame me, hunt me, burn my family's business—and you want simple?"
Bello leaned back. "Badland is not simple. It is honest. Power decides."
Dami's fingers tightened. "You killed people."
Bello's smile thinned. "I employed outcomes."
A subtle click echoed. Dami noticed the men shift—hands closer to weapons.
He reached into the backpack and placed the metal case on the table.
Bello's eyes flicked to it. Hunger, briefly unmasked.
"Open it," Bello said.
Dami didn't. "Release him first."
Bello sighed. He snapped his fingers.
The men loosened the rope. Untied. Shoved Dami's cousin forward.
"Walk," Bello said.
The cousin took a step. Then another.
Then Bello raised a hand.
Everything froze.
"You see," Bello said gently, "trust is inefficient."
Dami felt the room tighten around him. "You promised."
"I promised alive," Bello replied. "Not free."
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went out.
Gunfire exploded.
Screams. Shouts. Glass shattering.
Dami lunged, grabbing his cousin, dragging him low as bullets tore through the dark.
From above, a drone whined—then a flash. Smoke poured in.
Zara's voice crackled in Dami's ear. "Move!"
Musa's detonation rocked the far wall, opening a jagged exit. Men scattered. Someone yelled orders.
Dami shoved his cousin toward the breach. "Run!"
They sprinted. Zara appeared out of smoke, covering them with precise fire. Musa hauled them through the gap as sirens wailed in the distance.
They hit the water.
Cold swallowed Dami whole.
He kicked, surfaced, gasping. Zara grabbed his collar, towing him toward a hidden ladder under the dock.
They hauled themselves up, soaked, shaking, alive.
Behind them, the exchange burned with noise and light.
Dami's cousin collapsed, sobbing.
Zara pressed a hand to her earpiece. "We're clear."
Musa checked the pack—empty.
"The decoy's gone," Dami said.
Musa nodded. "The real proof's already moving."
Zara looked back at the burning building. "Bello will be furious."
Dami stared into the water, seeing his reflection break and reform. "Good."
He helped his cousin to his feet.
Badland had tried to buy him.
It had failed.
And now the city would learn a new rule:
Some mistakes bleed back.