The rain had finally slowed down to a dull, miserable drizzle over the Ebute-Metta sawmill. Inside the main warehouse, the halogen bulb flickered, casting long, eerie shadows across the stacks of damp timber.Chief Solomon sat on a plastic chair in the center of the room. The old General was wrapped in a dry wool blanket Sledge had provided, his face pale but his eyes slowly regaining that hard, military sharpness. He was drinking hot local tea, his hands no longer shaking."The syndicate will not wait, Adekunle," Solomon muttered, his voice echoing in the quiet warehouse. "Valerie is a corporate executioner. The moment her compromised warden reports that my cell is empty, she will activate Damini's hackers to freeze every local asset we have and launch an all-out street hunt.""Let them try," Adekunle said, walking into the light. He was holding Kazeem's military satellite phone—the one they confiscated from the young boy earlier. "Papa, you are a ghost to the world now. The news is reporting that you were kidnapped by unknown terrorists. We are going to use your ghost status to invite our friends to dinner."Adekunle tapped a button on the satellite phone, dialing Valerie's encrypted offshore number. He set the device on the wooden table, switching it to speakerphone.The line rang twice before Valerie's cold, elegant voice answered. "Kazeem? Report status. Did the warden drop the capsule in the General's tea?""The warden is currently explaining himself to the prison security, Valerie," Adekunle said smoothly, leaning over the table.There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. "Adekunle? How do you have this phone? Where is the General?""My father is currently sitting across from me, enjoying a hot cup of tea," Adekunle chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that carried pure dominance. "You offered me two hundred million dollars to kill him, Valerie. I told you no. But since you are so desperate to clear his liability, I am giving you one last chance to buy his silence. Bring Damini and your core Island executives to the sawmill by 8:00 AM. We are holding a new board meeting.""You are out of your depth, Chief pikin," Valerie hissed, her corporate composure cracking into venomous rage. "If I come to that mainland mud, I am coming with enough firepower to turn your sawmill into ash.""If you bring a single weapon across that bridge, Valerie, the automated servers I built with Damini's confiscated equipment will instantly leak the offshore ledger keys to the International Court of Justice and the federal anti-graft agency," Adekunle lied smoothly, his voice unwavering. "You have four hours to pack your bags and drive across the bridge. Don't be late."Adekunle ended the call, cutting off her reply. He turned to Sledge, who was standing by the door sharpening his cutlass with a wild, victorious grin."Sledge, mobilize every single Area Boy from Oyingbo down to Iddo," Adekunle commanded, his eyes burning with an intense, absolute authority. "I want five hundred boys surrounding this sawmill axis before dawn. No guns. Just sticks, irons, and pure mass presence. When the Island luxury cars drive in, I want them to realize they have entered a jungle where their money cannot save them.""Standard!" Sledge roared, slamming his fist against the wooden wall. "The mainland army don set, Chief pikin!"Chief Solomon looked up from his tea, staring at his son with a profound, almost terrifying sense of respect. He realized that Adekunle hadn't just survived the barracks drills and the swamp extraction; he had completely mastered the art of power. He wasn't just a military pikin anymore. He was the undisputed warlord of the Lagos streets.Adekunle walked over to the window, looking out as the first light of dawn began to crack through the dark clouds over the Lagos lagoon. Fifty chapters of his life had brought him from a weak billionaire's son crying in a police cell to this exact moment. The international syndicate thought they owned the world, but by 8:00 AM, they were going to learn the golden rule of the trenches: the Mainland always wins the final script.
