Nia pressed against the broken wall, her chest tight with guilt. Kofi was out there, tied to that spooky iroko tree, blood dripping down his arm. He'd taken that knife for her, and it ate at her. The journal shook in her hands as she read, Use a decoy to draw them out. "We save him now," she said, her voice steady but shaky inside. Dami met her eyes, his face hard. "Let's do it," he said. Temi grabbed her arm, her leg wobbly but her look fierce. "I'm with you," she whispered. Zainab clicked her empty gun, frowning. "We better move fast."
Kofi's life depended on them. "We dig a pit," Nia said. "Salt and branches—trap the cult." Zainab smirked. "Smart kid." They rushed to a spot near the road, scraping a deep hole with sticks. Temi piled branches quick, her hands cut and muddy. Nia sprinkled salt from the pouch, the grains sticking to her skin. Dami stood watch, whistling loud. Two cult scouts charged, knives flashing. They hit the pit, crashing through the branches. Salt burned their skin, and they screamed, thrashing below. "Yes!" Temi yelled, grinning wide. But more footsteps thumped close. "Run!" Dami shouted, yanking her up.
They sprinted, cult yells hot on their heels. Up ahead, okada bikes sat abandoned, engines humming. "Grab them!" Zainab ordered. Nia jumped on one, Dami sliding behind, his arms warm around her waist. Temi rode with Zainab, holding tight. The bikes roared to life, weaving into Lagos traffic—horns blaring, market stalls a blur of colors. A cult car swerved, bumping their bike hard. Nia's heart pounded, Dami's closeness a weird comfort amid the chaos. "Hold on!" he said, leaning to steady them. The car hit again, tires screeching loud.
A scout leaped from the car, landing on their bike. He grabbed Dami's shoulder, knife gleaming. Nia swerved hard, the bike wobbling under them. "Get off!" Dami growled, elbowing the guy's face. The scout slipped, hanging off the side, his knife scraping the ground. Nia turned sharp, and he fell, yelling as he rolled into the road. The cult car braked, smashing into a stall—mangoes and yams exploded everywhere. Dami hugged her tighter. "You're tough as hell," he whispered, his breath warm on her neck. Her chest fluttered, pride mixing with fear of losing him.
But the break was short. More cult bikes roared up, chasing them down a narrow street. Zainab yelled, "Left!" They veered onto a muddy path, wheels slipping in the muck. Temi's bike skidded, Zainab cursing as she steadied it with a grunt. A cult rider swung a stick, hitting Nia's arm. She winced, anger flaring hot. "Not today!" she shouted. Dami grabbed a rock, throwing it hard. It smashed the rider's hand, and the stick dropped, the bike crashing into a ditch. The path opened to the riverbank, the iroko tree looming dark.
They ditched the bikes behind bushes, panting hard. Kofi was tied to the tree, head down, blood soaking his shirt. Cult men circled, a fire burning with a red paint circle. Nia's stomach turned. "He's alive," she whispered, hope battling dread. Dami squeezed her hand. "We get him," he said, voice low and sure. Zainab pulled a small knife from her boot. "Quiet," she warned. They crept forward, hearts thumping loud.
Nia flipped the journal, Fire breaks the circle, silence stops the chant, it said. "Burn the paint, hush them," she told Dami. He took the lighter, his fingers brushing hers—a push of trust, a pull of doubt from his cult past. Nia and Temi sneaked to the fire, lighting a branch. She tossed it at the paint. Flames caught, crackling loud. Cult men turned, shouting angry words. Dami and Zainab ran to Kofi, sawing at the ropes. He groaned, slumping into their arms. "Go!" he rasped, his voice weak but clear.
The leader stepped out, hood up, his stare like ice. "Too late," he snarled. Torches flared, and a deep chant started, the air growing heavy. A shadowy figure rose from the circle, red eyes glowing bright. Nia froze, breath caught in her throat. "What is that?" Temi whispered, clinging to her. The leader raised his hands. "The ritual begins!" he yelled. Cult men grabbed Kofi again, dragging him back. Nia's heart broke in two. "Kofi!" she cried, stepping forward. Dami pulled her back. "We can't!" he said, voice tight. She shoved him, tears hot on her face. "We have to!" The push-pull between them hurt deep, but he nodded, eyes soft with regret.
They charged, Zainab firing her last shot. It hit a cult man, who fell with a heavy thud. Temi threw rocks, her aim sharp despite her leg. Nia lit another branch, waving it at the shadowy figure. It hissed, stepping back, its claws scraping the ground. The leader laughed, cold and cruel. "Join us, or he dies!" A knife pressed to Kofi's throat. Nia's legs shook, torn between saving him and running for her life. Dami grabbed her. "We'll get him back," he promised, his voice cracking with emotion.
They retreated, dragging Temi and Zainab through the mud. The chant grew louder, the shadowy figure looming closer. They hid behind rocks, Kofi's groans fading in the distance. Nia opened the journal, Choice breaks the bond, it said. She looked at Dami, hope flickering through her fear. "We choose to fight," she said. He nodded, but the leader's voice boomed, "Nia, come now or they all die!" The shadowy figure's claws scraped louder, and the ritual fire flared high. Cult men closed in, knives glinting. A scout hesitated, stepping out. "I can help—follow me," he whispered. Nia stared, torn between trust and trap, as the chant peaked—leaving her hanging.
But the chase wasn't over. They ran from the rocks, the cult hot on their heels. Nia tripped, Dami catching her just as a cult man swung a knife. He blocked it with his stick, pushing the guy back. Zainab threw a rock, hitting another attacker. Temi limped but kept up, her face set with grit. They ducked into a narrow alley, the cult's shouts echoing. Nia's mind raced—Kofi was still out there, and this scout might be their only shot.
The scout led them to a hidden shed, its door creaking open. "Safe here," he said, his voice shaky. Nia eyed him, his cult tattoo faint but there. "Why help us?" she asked. He looked down. "I'm done with them—your dad saved me once." Her heart jumped—her dad again? Before she could ask, a cult horn blew loud, calling more men. The shed shook as footsteps thumped outside. Zainab barred the door, breathing hard. "We're trapped," she said.
Nia flipped the journal again, Fire and choice together break the hold, it read. She lit a small fire with the lighter, holding it up. "We fight with this," she said. Dami nodded, grabbing a board to use as a weapon. The door rattled, cult men banging. Temi stacked crates for cover, her hands trembling. The scout grabbed a stick, joining them. "For your dad," he muttered. Nia's chest tightened—hope and doubt clashing.
The door burst open, cult men pouring in. Nia threw the fire at their feet, flames spreading fast. They yelled, stumbling back. Dami swung the board, knocking one down. Zainab kicked another, and the scout fought with his stick. Temi threw rocks, her aim true. The shed filled with smoke, the fight a blur of grunts and crashes. But the leader's voice cut through, "Nia, surrender!" The shadowy figure loomed outside, its red eyes piercing the smoke.
Nia clutched the journal, her choice clear. "We don't give up!" she shouted. The scout pushed a back window open. "Go!" he yelled. They climbed out, the cult close behind. They ran into the night, the iroko tree's fire still burning in the distance. The leader's chant grew, the shadowy figure chasing. Nia tripped again, Dami pulling her up. "We'll save him," he said, his voice firm. But a cult man grabbed Temi, yanking her back. "No!" Nia screamed, reaching out as the ritual chant peaked—cliffhanger locked.