The city had changed overnight.
It no longer whispered.It screamed.
By morning, Lagos was unrecognizable. Crowds filled the streets. Placards raised high. Fires lit across intersections. The chants of thousands rolled like thunder through the districts.
"Bello is a murderer.""Justice for the forgotten.""Down with the Silence."
Elara stood on the rooftop of the safe house, watching the chaos below. Her chest felt tight, not with fear but with a strange electricity.
For the first time, the people were not silent.
Khalid joined her. His expression was grim. "This is not a protest anymore. This is war."
Elara nodded slowly. "War was always coming. They just forced us to wait for it."
Inside, NUMA hammered at her keyboard, tracking live feeds, rerouting police scanners, blocking Council propaganda from trending.
"They are trying to spin it," she muttered. "They are saying it is foreign agents stirring unrest. They are calling the footage fake. But the streets do not believe them."
Fatima stood beside her, arms folded. "Because they have seen too many bodies to swallow the lies."
Elara entered, voice steady. "Then we keep pushing. Every document. Every name. No one is spared."
NUMA glanced at her. "If we do that, you understand what happens? The system collapses. The courts. The banks. The media. Everything tied to the Council will fall."
Elara's eyes burned. "Good. Let it all burn."
The news that evening showed the first break in the Council.
Senator Uzoamaka Diri, pale and trembling, appeared on live television. She denied involvement, denied knowledge, blamed Ibrahim for everything.
But Elara saw the cracks. The fear. The desperation.
She whispered, "They are turning on each other."
Khalid frowned. "Cornered animals are dangerous. They will not just defend themselves. They will attack."
At midnight, the attack came.
The safe house windows shattered. Gas canisters rolled inside. Masked men stormed the building, guns raised.
NUMA cursed and pulled a pistol from under the table. Fatima dragged Elara toward the back exit. Khalid fought two men off with a broken chair.
The house became a battlefield of smoke, shouts, and blood.
Elara stumbled into the alley, coughing, her vision blurred. Khalid emerged seconds later, his face streaked with ash.
"They know where we are now," he said. "We cannot stay in one place. Not anymore."
They moved through the night, slipping between abandoned shops and half-burned markets, until they reached another hideout NUMA had prepared.
The small apartment smelled of mold and dust, but it was safe. For now.
Elara collapsed against the wall, her hands still shaking.
Khalid crouched in front of her. "You saw it, did you not? They are not just trying to silence you. They are trying to erase everything. The Council will burn the country before they lose it."
Elara lifted her head. "Then we take the crown from the ashes."
The next morning, her father appeared on state television.Calm. Composed. Smiling.
He spoke of order. Of unity. Of peace.He called the protests "an unfortunate reaction to misinformation."He promised reforms, promised justice, promised everything the crowd wanted to hear.
And when he said her name, he spoke with practiced sorrow.
"My daughter is sick," he said softly. "She is being used by enemies who wish to destroy our nation. I beg you all, do not listen to her lies."
Elara watched from the safe house. Every word felt like a blade.
Fatima spat at the screen. "He is poisoning them."
NUMA slammed her laptop shut. "Not all. Not anymore. Too many have seen the truth. But his performance will keep the loyalists with him. That means more blood in the streets."
Elara whispered, "Let them stay loyal. When the house collapses, they will be buried with him."
That night, as she prepared to sleep, Khalid handed her something.A folded piece of paper.
She opened it.
It was a message scrawled in rushed handwriting.
You do not know the full story. Meet me tomorrow. Alone. Under the old bridge.
The signature made her breath catch.
Halima.
Khalid studied her reaction. "Is it real?"
Elara nodded slowly. "It has to be."
But in the pit of her stomach, she wondered—
Was Halima reaching out as a friend?Or had the Council found another way to bait the trap?
She folded the note and slid it into her pocket.
Her voice was steady, but her heart pounded.
"Tomorrow," she said, "we find out."