The night over Lagos had turned heavy, the clouds sagging low as if they were about to spill secrets instead of rain. Chike stood on the penthouse balcony, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city lights below. They glimmered like a scattered constellation, but tonight, they brought him no comfort. Every flicker of neon and every shadow between the streets seemed to carry the weight of The Red Ledger’s silent reach.Inside, the room was dim, the faint hum of the air conditioner doing little to break the tension. The documents he had been poring over for hours lay in disarray on the table financial ledgers, encrypted contracts, shell company papers. And there it was again, the crimson seal: a mark he’d seen in three separate places tonight. Three different fronts. Three different lies. One single enemy.A soft knock came at the door. Not the rapid, urgent knock of an intruder or desperate ally but a slow, deliberate rhythm. Whoever it was wanted him to know they weren’t in a hurry.“Come

The room was a furnace of adrenaline. Chike stood at the center, his jaw clenched, as the holo-screen replayed the grainy footage from the Crimson Vault’s surveillance feed. There it was an unmistakable silhouette moving through the underground loading bay, cloaked in smoke and shadow. Whoever it was, they had bypassed two of his newly installed security checkpoints without triggering a single alarm.“Pause it there,” Chike ordered.The footage froze, revealing just enough of the intruder’s posture to spark recognition in his gut. A familiar gait, calculated and unhurried like someone who already knew the building as intimately as he did.Kola, standing at the console, glanced at him. “You know them?”Chike’s lips thinned. “Not yet. But I will.”The image flickered out as he powered down the feed. His instincts screamed that this wasn’t a random breach it was bait. The Red Ledger’s signature was all over it: provoke him, draw him out, make him reveal his hand. But they had underestima

The rain had stopped, but the air in the alley was still heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the faint, acrid tang of gunpowder. Chike stood at the mouth of the narrow passage, his coat clinging to him from the earlier downpour. His eyes were fixed on the faint flicker of light deeper inside, where a shadow moved too quick, too deliberate to be a random passerby.The System’s voice rang in his mind, calm yet edged with urgency.[Warning: Target “Crimson Operative K-7” is within range. Probability of ambush: 89%. Initiating Tactical Mode?]Chike’s jaw tightened. “Not yet. Let him think I’m walking straight into it.”The voice was silent for a beat, as if recalculating, then replied:[Acknowledged. Tracking heat signatures.]He took slow, measured steps, each one deliberate. His boots splashed softly in shallow puddles, the sound echoing off the brick walls. His fingers grazed the hidden blade strapped beneath his sleeve a recent upgrade from the Crimson Vault’s secret arsenal.T

The night over Lagos was a restless one humid air pressing against the skin, neon lights bleeding into the streets, and the low growl of traffic refusing to sleep. Chike sat in the back of the armored SUV, eyes fixed on the encrypted tablet in his hands. Every line of code scrolling across the black screen felt like a heartbeat, pulsing with danger.“Status?” he asked without looking up.Tunde, sitting in the passenger seat, turned his head slightly. “We’ve got eyes on the Red Ledger’s substation at Ilupeju. But boss… there’s something off. Too quiet.”Chike’s jaw flexed. The Red Ledger never went quiet unless they were planning something that would make the city bleed.The tablet pinged a flashing red icon in the corner. He tapped it, and a live video feed appeared. It was grainy, but clear enough to see what was happening: three black vans, no license plates, pulling into a warehouse whose walls were painted with the faint crimson insignia of the Ledger.“They’re moving something,”

The moment the door flew open, chaos poured in.Gunfire cracked against the steel frame, sparks bursting in Chike’s face. He dived behind the overturned table, yanking the prisoner’s chair backward with him. The man grunted as his shoulder slammed against the floor.Two hostiles in black tactical gear stormed the room, their movements precise military precise. Chike counted the rhythm of their steps, the angle of their weapons, and the space between their shots.Perfect.He popped up, firing two rounds. The first hostile went down immediately, body jerking before collapsing against the wall. The second dodged, dropping into a crouch and firing in return. Bullets tore into the concrete where Chike’s head had been a split second earlier.“Who sent them?” Chike barked at the prisoner as he slammed a fresh magazine into his pistol.“They don’t take orders they take contracts,” the man said, grinning despite the danger. “And your name’s worth a fortune right now.”A loud boom shook the cor