gripped the journal tight as Zainab's car sped through Lagos, tires screeching on the wet road. The cult car behind them closed in, headlights stabbing through the dark. "Faster!" Dami yelled, twisting to look back. Zainab swerved hard, cutting into a busy market street. Stalls shook, vendors yelling as baskets of tomatoes and yams crashed. Nia ducked low, her heart slamming against her chest. The cult car smashed into a cart, slowing with a loud crunch. Zainab grinned, sharp and quick. "Got them for now!" she said. But the win faded fast—new headlights flared ahead, blocking their path.
"Ambush!" Dami shouted. Zainab hit the brakes, the car skidding sideways. Cult men stepped out, knives and sticks ready. Nia's stomach twisted. "Out the side!" Zainab barked, kicking her door open. They scrambled out, running into a narrow alley. The cult men chased, their shouts bouncing off the walls. Nia tripped on a loose stone, her ankle twisting. Dami caught her arm, pulling her up. "Keep going!" he said, his voice urgent.
They ducked behind a stack of crates, panting hard. The cult men ran past, searching the wrong way. Zainab peeked out, her gun steady in her hand. "We lost them—for now," she whispered. Nia sank against the wall, her legs shaking. "How do they keep finding us?" she asked, her voice small.
Dami frowned, patting his pockets. "They've got trackers. Maybe on me." He yanked off his jacket, tossing it into a dumpster. Zainab nodded. "Good move. But we need a plan fast." They moved to a quiet corner near a closed shop, the air damp with rain. Nia opened the journal, her fingers trembling. Blood binds the marked. Ritual breaks the bond under the old tree, she read aloud. She looked up. "It says the ritual needs blood from the marked—Dami, you, maybe me. There's an old tree by the river."
Dami's face went hard. "The big iroko. That's their ritual spot." Zainab cursed under her breath. "They'll do it tonight if they catch us." Nia flipped more pages, finding a rough sketch of the tree with strange symbols. Trap waits for the curious, it said. Her chest tightened. "This is a trap," she muttered.
"We can't go there," Dami said, shaking his head. Nia clenched her jaw. "We have to. It's our only way to stop them." Zainab sighed. "She's right, but we go careful. Scout, don't fight." They agreed, starting toward the river.
The walk was tense, the city noise fading into crickets and distant drums. Nia clutched the journal, her mind spinning. Her dad knew this cult—did he set this trap? They reached the riverbank, the old iroko tree towering ahead. Its gnarled branches stretched like claws, the air heavy with smoke. Low chanting came from the shadows—cult men in robes, a fire crackling. Nia spotted Temi, tied up near the flames, struggling against the ropes. "We have to save her," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Dami held her back. "Not yet. Look up." A rope net hung in the branches, hidden but ready to drop. Cult men patrolled, eyes sharp. Zainab pulled Nia down. "They're waiting for us," she said. "One wrong move, and we're caught." Nia's hands shook. She wanted to run to Temi, but the net scared her. "What do we do?" she asked.
Dami scanned the area. "We need a distraction." Zainab nodded, pulling a small flare from her bag. "This'll work. I'll light it, pull them off. You two get Temi." Nia opened her mouth to argue, but Zainab lit the flare, tossing it toward the river. It sparked bright, popping loud. Cult men turned, shouting, rushing toward the noise. Nia and Dami moved fast, crawling through the mud toward Temi.
Nia pulled a pocketknife from her bag, sawing at the ropes. Her hands slipped, sweaty and shaky. Temi groaned, her eyes fluttering. "Nia…" she whispered. "Hold on," Nia said, cutting faster. The last rope snapped, and Temi slumped forward. Dami lifted her, supporting her weight. They started back, but a cult man spotted them. "There!" he yelled. Others turned, and the net dropped with a heavy thud.
Nia dove, pulling Temi down as ropes crashed around them. Dami rolled clear, grabbing a thick stick from the ground. "Move!" he shouted. The cult leader stepped forward, knife raised high. "You can't escape the Order," he said, his voice cold and deep. Nia's heart stopped. The net tangled her legs, but she kicked hard, breaking free. She dragged Temi, her arms burning.
Dami swung the stick, hitting the leader's arm. The man grunted, stumbling back. Zainab ran in, firing her gun into the air. The loud bangs scattered the cult men, but the leader stayed, glaring with hate. "Run!" Zainab yelled. They bolted, Temi limping between Nia and Dami. The riverbank was a mess—mud sucking at their shoes, roots tripping them. A cult man grabbed Nia's arm, yanking her back. She screamed, the journal slipping from her hands.
Dami turned, tackling the man. They hit the ground, fists flying. Nia watched, frozen, as Dami landed a hard punch, knocking the guy out. He stood, breathing heavy, and grabbed the journal. "Let's go!" he said, helping Temi up. Zainab led them to a hidden path, the cult men's shouts fading behind trees.
They stopped in a small clearing, all gasping for air. Temi leaned against a tree, her face pale and scratched. "They took me from the hostel," she said, her voice weak. "Said I'd pay for your choices, Nia." Nia's eyes burned with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, holding Temi's hand.
Dami checked the area, his jaw tight. "We're not safe yet." Zainab reloaded her gun, her face grim. "We need to hide. They'll come back hard." Nia opened the journal again, reading fast. The trap fails if the marked refuse, it said. She looked at Dami. "It means you have to say no to them—stop doing what they want."
He nodded slowly, his eyes dark. "I can try. But it's not easy." Before he could explain, a rustle came from the bushes. Nia tensed, clutching the journal. A cult figure stepped out, hood hiding his face. "The marked can't refuse," he said, raising a knife. The group froze, trapped once more.
But then the figure laughed, pulling back the hood. It was an older man, his face scarred. "I'm testing you," he said. "I'm Elder Kofi, once with the Order. Your dad sent me." Nia stared, confused. "What?"
"He knew they'd come for you," Kofi said. "The journal's your weapon. But the trap's still live—they're watching." He pointed to the trees, where shadows moved. Zainab raised her gun. "We fight or run?" she asked. Nia looked at Temi, then Dami. "We fight," she said, her voice steady. Kofi handed her a small pouch. "Use this—salt breaks their hold."
They spread out, Nia sprinkling salt as cult men charged from the trees. The salt hit, and the men stumbled, shouting in pain. Dami swung his stick, Zainab fired, and Temi threw rocks. The fight was chaos—grunts, crashes, the smell of smoke. Nia dodged a knife, tossing more salt. A cult man fell, then another. But the leader appeared, his eyes wild. "You'll all burn!" he yelled, lunging.
Nia threw the last of the salt, hitting his face. He screamed, dropping the knife. Dami tackled him, pinning him down. Zainab tied his hands with a rope. The other cult men fled, the fight won—for now. Nia sank to her knees, breathing hard. Temi hugged her, weak but alive. "We did it," Temi whispered.
Dami helped Nia up, his hand warm. "You're tougher than I thought," he said. She managed a smile, but Kofi's words stuck. "The trap's still live," he repeated. "They'll try again." Nia nodded, holding the journal close. A twig snapped behind them, and they turned—more shadows in the trees. The cult wasn't done.