The silence in the sitting room was thick, broken only by the trembling breaths of three kneeling security men. Their eyes darted between the gang members --- Dakolo, Black, Ijoba, Axe, and Mathew were seated on the sofas, while Luke, Peter, Tiger, and Timini lingered around the sitting room, with glasses of alcohol in hand.
And the man whose judgment mattered most—Bryan. What had started as a simple favor had spiraled into something far darker.
Bryan settled into a chair directly facing the security men. He called for a maid. Two minutes later, she returned with a glass of alcohol, handed it to him silently, and exited.
Bryan rotated the glass slowly, his eyes fixed on the trembling men. "Ali. James. Goodluck," he said, naming them one by one. Each name landed like a blow. Ali's eyes darted nervously around the room. Goodluck was the first to speak.
"S… S… Sir, I wasn't around w… when…"
She left.
I went to buy beans from Iya Ewa. I didn't see her leave—I'm unaware sir.
Bryan's gaze shifted from his glass to Goodluck, then to Ali and James. His stare was sharp, unforgiving. The two men swallowed hard and lowered their heads. Bryan downed his drink in one gulp and slammed the glass onto the table. The sound made all three flinch.
"I'll ask just one last time," Bryan said, his voice low and tight with fury. "Who let her out?"
Ali spoke quickly, his voice trembling. "Sir… s-sir… me and James dey for gate, dey mind our business. Then she come tell us say she wan go out, but we tell her say, she no fit go out."
He glanced at Bryan, fear etched into his face, then dropped his gaze to the floor.
Bryan's expression didn't change. His eyes stayed locked on them, cold and unrelenting.
"She say she need am urgently.
Even James wan go buy am for her—abi, James?" Ali asked, turning to James for confirmation.
James nodded, eyes wide with fear. He glanced at Bryan for a second, then quickly looked away.
"But sir… she say na personal," Ali continued. "Na im James come talk say make…" He hesitated.
Ali sniffed, then launched into his explanation. "Me and James decide make she go, cus Boss ehn… she ask one question wey touch me. She say, 'For say she be our sister, we for treat her like dat?' That thing do me somehow for body. Cus me ehn, when I small, I dey pray make my mama born girl. But na only boys she born." He sniffed again, voice cracking. "As she con dey beg us, I just later agree cus…"
"Hahahaha… I'm sorry, I'm sorry guys—this guy is hilarious," Timini said, walking up to Ali and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Guy, I understand you—even if the rest here no get you. My guy, I gat you."
"See Bryan," Timini called out, "Free this guy. Clara na him long-awaited sister."
The gang burst into laughter—except Bryan, whose face remained stone cold, and Dakolo, who wore a faint smirk.
"Abeg Timini, no start with your own," Matthew said between chuckles.
Bryan stared at Timini, who raised his hands in surrender and backed away to his seat.
Then Bryan turned to the three kneeling men.
"What did she say she wanted to get?" he asked.
Silence.
"You wouldn't like me to repeat myself, right, James?" Bryan warned, adjusting in his seat.
James stuttered, "S-sir… it's, it's ehmm… it's…"
"Na pad, sir," Ali interrupted. "Sa-ni-te-ry pad. For women. Na wetin she go buy. Na why James and me no fit go. Cus Boss, you sef know…"
"Shut up," Bryan thundered.
Ali bowed instantly, trembling.
Bryan stood up slowly, his face unreadable. The room fell silent as he turned to Tiger, Axe, and Luke.
"Take them to the torture room," he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Tiger nodded once, already stepping forward. Axe cracked his knuckles. Luke set down his glass and moved with quiet precision.
"Boss, Oga, abeg!" James and Ali pleaded, voices trembling.
Boss, please!" James shouted, struggling against Tiger's grip.
"Oga, I swear, I no do anything!" Ali wailed, tears streaming down his face.
"I didn't know!" Goodluck cried out, desperation spilling from his voice. "I didn't know when she left, please!"
Bryan didn't flinch. He locked eyes with Tiger, who was already watching him. No words passed between them, but the nod they exchanged spoke volumes.
Without another glance, Bryan turned and walked away, ignoring the pleading cries behind him. His footsteps echoed through the hallway, steady and final.
Behind him, the three men were dragged out, their voices growing distant. The gang watched in silence—some amused.
Dakolo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching the scene unfold with quiet intensity. Black lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly, as if the chaos before him was just another evening's entertainment.
The three security men were dragged out, their pleas fading into the distance. The door to the sitting room closed behind them with a soft thud, sealing the moment like a tomb.
Bryan entered his private quarters, poured himself another drink, sipped slowly and stood by the bed, Clara was still asleep.
"She should be awake by now—it's been close to an hour," he muttered, checking his wristwatch.
He walked to the bedside, looked at her sleeping frame, then removed his watch and placed it in the drawer. He took off his shirt and headed to the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later, Bryan emerged dressed in a white polo and brown shorts. Clara was awake now, struggling to free herself.
He smirked at the sight.
"You had better stop doing that—you'll only hurt yourself," he said.
Clara laughed sarcastically.
"Like I'm not hurting already?" she shot back.
Bryan scoffed. "Hmmmm, you're not. From what I see, you're just relaxing on my bed—which you should be thankful for," he said briskly, pulling out his phone and sitting down.
He scrolled through it, then suddenly stopped and looked at Clara, who was still tugging at her restraints.
"You know you're quite bold, pulling that stunt out there," he said.
Clara ignored him and kept trying to free herself.
"You really thought you could get away from me? You are so stupid," he said, shaking his head and returning to his phone.
Clara gasped, staring at him angrily.
"Untie me. Untie me now!"
"Well, I don't mind doing that," Bryan replied, eyes still glued to the screen. "But I might—if you plead properly."
"Ahhhhh... just let me go. I don't even know why I'm being kept here," Clara snapped. "I'll make sure you're all dealt with when I'm free."
Bryan smirked but didn't look up.
Clara, frustrated by his indifference, gave up trying to free herself.
_God, please save me from all this,_ she prayed silently.
She stared at him, her mind racing. _Why did he bring me here? What does he want from me?_ Her breath caught. _Is it… ritual? Jesus…_ She gasped aloud.
Bryan glanced at her for a moment, then returned to his phone, unfazed.
_It can't be rituals,_ Clara reasoned, trying to calm herself. _If that were the case, I wouldn't be in his room. I'd be in some dark shrine, not here._ She nodded to herself, affirming the thought. _Yes… yes. But then… what could it be?_
Her eyes locked on Bryan again. _Look at him—young, a bit handsome even. And this is what he chose? Armed robbery?_ She hissed quietly. _After stealing from my father, you weren't content. You stole me too._
Her chest tightened. _I can only imagine how my parents are feeling right now. I need to leave. I need to get out of here._
After a long silence, Clara spoke up, voice sharp.
"Hey… excuse me," she called.
Bryan didn't respond.
"I'm talking to you!" she snapped.
Still nothing.
"Boss… boss gang… hello!"
Bryan finally spoke, his voice cold and detached. "Bryan. Bryan is the name. What is it?"
Clara blinked, surprised he told her his name. "I need to use the restroom." she said.
"Okay," Bryan replied casually.
"What do you mean 'okay'? Can't you see I'm tied up? I need to use the restroom. It's urgent."
Bryan looked at her sharply, then walked toward the bed. Clara's heart jumped. _He's going to untie me._
But instead, he reached into the drawer, retrieved his wristwatch, and headed for the door.
"Hey! Where are you going? I said I need to use the restroom!"
Bryan kept walking, a smirk creeping onto his face.
Just as he reached the door, Clara called out again, louder this time.
"Hey! Bryan!"
He stopped.
"What?" he asked, without turning back.
"I told you…"
"I want to use the restroom," Clara said, her voice strained and cracking.
Bryan stopped mid-step, turned slowly, and gave her a strange smile—one that didn't reach his eyes.
"Do I look like a fool to you?" he asked, voice low and mocking. Then he turned again and continued walking toward the door.
Clara, tangled in her thoughts and restraints, hesitated. Her wrists throbbed. Her throat was dry. She shifted slightly, then called out, voice trembling, "Bryan, I'm sorry, okay? Please… can you untie me? My hands really hurt. And I'm…"
She paused, debating whether to say it. Bryan didn't give her the chance.
"And what?" he snapped, turning his head just enough to show the edge of his jaw.
"I'm hungry," she blurted out. "I'm very hungry. After all the running and chasing with you guys… I'm, i'm starving!"
Bryan didn't respond. He just stared at her—long and hard. No blink. No shift. Just that cold, unreadable gaze.
Clara stared back, her breath catching. She couldn't tell if he was calculating, amused, or simply indifferent. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Her stomach growled, loud enough to break the moment.
Bryan's lips twitched—almost a smirk, almost something else. He walked towards her, slowly, deliberately, until he was standing right beside the bed.
"You're hungry?" he repeated, voice quiet.
Clara nodded, unsure if that was the right answer.
Bryan leaned in, close enough for her to feel his breath.
"Good," he whispered. "Let hunger remind you where you are."
Then he turned and walked out, locking the door behind him.
Clara stared at the door, her heart pounding.