The soft hum of the cooling units and the rhythmic beep of scanned items usually formed a kind of background music at the supermarket. But today, everything felt distant muted, like I was underwater.
I was restocking a shelf of canned goods, but my hands moved on their own. My mind wasn't here.
Arewa Heights. The depot. Dolly. Habeeb.
I pressed a can of sweet corn onto the shelf with more force than necessary. It toppled to the floor and rolled a little too far before stopping near an elderly customer's feet.
"Sorry," I muttered, managing a small, apologetic smile as I picked it up.
She nodded politely, but her eyes lingered on me. Could she tell something was off? Was I starting to look like a criminal?
I rubbed my face. I hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep in the past two nights. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Steven's smirk, Ife wobbling around like a drunken goat, and Dolly's blade swinging inches from my face.
But it wasn't the fight that haunted me it was what we did after. We helped someone escape. Someone the entire Zenith Council probably had posters up for by now.
My heart beat faster as the thought settled. Not because of guilt. No. Because of fear.
If they ever found out it was us…
"Mister Liam," a soft voice called from behind me.
I turned. It was Nnenna, the cashier. Kind girl. Always braided her hair with tiny green beads that rattled when she laughed. She didn't laugh today.
"You've been standing there for minutes," she said, voice low. "Manager said you should take five."
I looked around. A few customers. Not too busy. The same humming. The same beeping.
"Thanks," I said, and walked toward the back room.
Inside, I leaned against the metal door and took a long breath. My palms were sweating. I wiped them on my trousers.
I wasn't afraid of getting caught. I was afraid of what would happen to her, to my mum.
She's worked too hard. Suffered too much. The thought of her seeing my face on the news… the disappointment in her eyes… I wasn't sure I could live with that.
And then there was Steven. He acted like he had everything figured out, but I knew him. He was as scared as I was.
And Ife? That guy was one sneeze away from accidentally confessing everything.
I looked at my reflection in the fridge door. My face looked older. Tired. Maybe this was how fugitives felt, always pretending, always watching.
The worst part? I still didn't know why we helped Habeeb. What was he even doing there? What was he running from? And why did it feel like we'd stepped into something far bigger than ourselves?
"Liam!"
It was the manager.
I straightened immediately and stepped out.
"Yes, sir."
"You're moving like your bones are asleep. Snap out of it or go home."
"Yes, sir," I repeated, forcing energy into my voice.
But deep inside, I knew something had already snapped—something I couldn't glue back.
If silence could scream, then the one inside the Zenith Council chamber was deafening.
High above the glittering towers of Eko Prime, nestled within the heart of the Zenith Tower, the council sat in a polished oval chamber walls of matte obsidian, with pulsating blue veins of light crawling through them like electric veins. The floor shimmered faintly, alive with embedded tech and history.
A long translucent table floated above the floor's center, rimmed with name tags and soft projections of each council member's region.
Empress Ezeanya sat at the head—poised, regal, unreadable. Her white robe glittered like moonlight on glass, but her eyes were sharp enough to peel steel.
To her left, Eminence Edouk adjusted his collar. The man looked like someone who hadn't slept for days. Thick-rimmed glasses rested on his nose, and data pads surrounded him like little floating books.
Beside him, Madam Daodu tapped her fingernails lightly against the table. Her gold bangles clinked softly, the only sound in the room. She was dressed in a deep red wrapper and blouse, her headtie folded like a crown. Calm. Calculating.
Abia Chinedu, the council's leading scientist, sat further down—brows furrowed. He looked worn but focused. A family man dragged into a war of politics. His notes flickered before him in mid-air.
The room vibrated slightly as the glass doors opened.
Late.
Ferdinand entered.
Clad in a crisp navy suit with no tie, the lawyer carried himself like a celebrity who had no reason to explain anything to anyone. His beard was too perfect. His walk was slow, deliberate.
"Apologies," Ferdinand said, taking his seat with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Traffic was… revolutionary this morning."
No one laughed.
Ezeanya didn't bother to welcome him. She simply looked ahead.
"We begin," she said.
The hologram in the center of the table lit up—an aerial view of Arewa Heights, zooming into the rubble where the Zenith Depot once stood. The ruins smoked in the projection, even though the event had happened days ago.
"The attack was precise," Edouk said, his voice tired but clear. "They knew what to hit, how to hit it, and when to disappear. Someone gave them intel."
Daodu raised an eyebrow. "And you think it's an inside job?"
"I think someone in Neo-Nija's high-ranking systems is leaking information. That, or we're severely underestimating the Resistance."
Abia folded his hands. "We need to be careful with that word. Not every rebel is a terrorist. Some are just tired citizens."
"Citizens don't blow up depots," Daodu replied without blinking.
Ferdinand, who had been silently scrolling through his holo-tab, finally spoke. "We need a public narrative. If we appear weak, the people panic. If we appear vengeful, the rebels gain sympathy. It's delicate."
"And what do you suggest, counselor?" Ezeanya asked.
"A manhunt," Ferdinand said simply. "Selective, strategic. We find the ones who helped the bomber escape. Make examples of them."
Edouk frowned. "There were reports of unidentified figures aiding the suspect's escape. Nothing solid yet."
"We will get something solid," Ferdinand said, tapping his fingers. "Make no mistake."
Abia glanced around the table. "What about a peace inquiry? An outreach to any factions we can reason with?"
"You're not in your lab, Doctor," Daodu said sharply. "This is war."
Ezeanya finally spoke again, voice like steel coated in silk. "The council will release a public statement condemning the attack. Ferdinand, you'll draft it."
Ferdinand gave a small nod.
"Abia, you will investigate the blast's composition. I want to know who designed the tech."
"Understood," Abia replied.
Before they could conclude, a soft chime rang—a private notification on the Empress's panel.
She glanced at it. "Meeting adjourned."
As the lower members began to rise and leave, four figures remained seated: Ezeanya, Edouk, Daodu… and Ferdinand.
A side panel of the room slid open.
The Emperor entered.
Clad in a flowing black robe stitched with silver circuitry, he looked like a walking shadow. His presence chilled the room. No name was ever used. No one dared.
Behind him trailed David, head of security. His uniform was straight. His face, sharper than his jawline. Military to the bone.
The Emperor sat without a word. He didn't need to speak often to control everything.
Then, quietly: "The plan is at risk."
Ezeanya nodded. "We are containing it."
"No," the Emperor said. "We must cut it. Burn the edges before it spreads."
Ferdinand leaned in. "What are your orders?"
"Find the ones who helped the saboteur escape. Use any means. Public trials. Emotional pressure. Let Neo-Nija know you are either with us, or you are dust."
David nodded. "My team is already tracing faces from the scene. We'll crossmatch with central databases and surveillance grids."
"Good," the Emperor said.
Then, turning to Edouk: "Delay the public about the full damage. Make it seem like a minor breach."
"And the long-term operation?" Daodu asked.
"Still on course," the Emperor said. "But any more interruptions, and the world will see what lies beneath Neo-Nija's mask."
He stood.
The others followed.
Meeting over.
The sky was a dusky purple as I walked home, head low, shoulders tight. The city was loud, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat—slow, steady, but uneasy. The kind of rhythm that only played when trouble was close.
The screens on the streets flickered with government broadcasts—most showing the Council's faces and the charred remains of Zenith Depot. But in between the official statements, something else had started popping up. Something worse.
Grainy footage.
The kind you'd only recognize if you knew who you were looking for.
There I was—just a blur in the smoke, arm hooked under Habeeb's shoulder. Ife was wobbling beside us like a broken compass, and Steven was clearing the path. It was only a second. Maybe less.
But it was enough.
"WANTED FOR AIDING TERRORIST ESCAPE" blinked beneath the footage in deep crimson. No names. No voiceovers. Just our outlines and a slow zoom-in.
My stomach flipped.
I kept walking, faster now. Eyes down, hood up.
I didn't even look up until I was at our door.
Home.
I unlocked it quietly, stepped in, and let the door shut behind me with a soft click. For a moment, I stood there in the silence. It was too quiet.
"Mum?" I called out. No response.
Her hospital shift.
I dropped my bag by the couch and collapsed into the armchair. My feet were aching, but that was the least of my worries.
I glanced at the table—bills stacked like mini skyscrapers. Rent. Light. Data tax. Security clearance renewal.
I exhaled deeply and rubbed my forehead. One envelope caught my eye—hospital fees. Great.
I hadn't even opened it when my holo-tab rang.
Steven.
I picked it up, and before I could say anything, Ife's voice blared through the speaker too. He'd joined the call.
"Guy," Steven said, tone low. Urgent. "Have you seen the new update?"
I didn't need to ask what he meant. "Yeah," I muttered. "The footage."
"That's not even the worst part," Ife added, sounding more sober than I'd heard him in days. "Word on the street is, the Zenith Council just made a decision."
"What kind of decision?" I asked, heart pounding.
"To make an example," Steven said grimly. "Anyone caught aiding the attack is to be arrested immediately. No trial. No questions. They want to clean up fast."
I sank deeper into the chair. "They're going to come after us."
There was a pause. None of us wanted to say it. But we all knew it was true.
"They think they're stopping an insurgency," Ife said, voice shaky. "But what they're doing... it's war, Liam. And we're on the wrong side of it."
I looked at the bill in my hand, fingers tightening around the edge. My whole life had been about staying invisible. Just surviving. Not standing out.
But now... my face was flickering across Neo-Nija like a warning sign.
"Mum can't know," I whispered.
"What?"
"If she finds out…" I swallowed hard. "She's already stretched thin. If this hits her…"
"Then we protect her," Steven said. "We stay ahead of it. We move smart."
There was silence again.
Then Ife sighed. "Na who send us help criminal now?"
We all chuckled, but it didn't last.
We knew what was coming.
And we weren't ready.