Zion's POV
It was past midnight, and the room was thick with silence, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Zion sat on the edge of his bed, his laptop open in front of him, its cold blue glow casting harsh shadows on his face. He had tried to sleep — really tried — but his mind kept dragging him back to that cramped, musty corridor outside Stephen's apartment. The easy way Stephen had smiled at Jade, the way she had smiled back, unaware of the undercurrent.
He reached for his phone, the urge to investigate gnawing at him like an itch that wouldn't fade. His last text to Dayo was still on the screen.
Zion: Need a background check. Discreet. Got a pic.
Attachment: Stephen's photo.
Dayo's reply had come hours later, as vague and frustratingly cryptic as ever.
Dayo: "The label doesn't match the bottle. Samuel Oyinde — rare specimen. Look beneath the seal."
Zion frowned, tapping the screen. He had tried searching "Stephen Oyinde" earlier — nothing had come up. But "Samuel Oyinde"? That was a different story.
He typed it in — Samuel Oyinde — and the page loaded with several results. One profile caught his eye: a public account. He clicked on it, and there Stephen was — or Samuel — grinning in multiple photos. Expensive cars, flashy clothes, a curated image of wealth. But it was the photo of him standing beside another guy that made Zion's throat tighten.
The other guy had the same smug smirk, the same air of careless affluence. Something in the sharp line of his jaw, the way he tilted his head — it was familiar, unsettlingly so. Zion's pulse quickened, a vague alarm rising in his chest. He saved the photo and shot it back to Dayo.
Zion: Who's the other guy?
Dayo's response came almost instantly, as though he had been waiting.
Dayo: "Lucas Oyinde and Samuel Oyinde, cousins. Some smiles are just teeth bared in waiting. Evidence choke."
Zion stared at the screen, the words circling his mind. He knew that face. That smirk. The name Lucas Oyinde felt like a whisper he should remember, a half-buried nightmare clawing its way to the surface.
It hit him like a slap.
The tape.
He had only watched it once — forced himself to, because the whole school had been talking about it, and because it was Jade. It had made him sick, seeing her like that, seeing the way she writhed under a stranger's hands, the glazed vacancy in her eyes. At the time, he had told himself she wanted it — everyone said she did. But now, the face of the guy in that video fused with the face of the man beside Stephen — Samuel — on his screen.
Lucas Oyinde.
Zion's heart hammered. The room seemed to shrink, walls pressing in, suffocating. His fingers hovered, uncertain, then clenched. He couldn't watch it. He shouldn't. But he had to know.
He searched for the video, his stomach twisting as the thumbnail popped up — grainy, invasive, a violation immortalized. His finger hesitated, then tapped it.
Jade's face filled the screen. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, glassy, her smile lazy and loose. The guy — Lucas — moved over her with a grin that now looked grotesque. Zion forced himself to focus, to study, to see. The little things — the way Jade's eyes rolled back unfocused, the slackness in her limbs despite her body's movements, the too-easy compliance.
She wasn't really there.
Her body responded, but her mind was far away, trapped in some chemical haze. The realization cut through him like a blade. He wanted to look away, to throw his phone across the room, but he kept watching — because he had to see it all, had to understand the truth of what they had all laughed about and whispered over.
When the video finally ended, he sat motionless, a cold rage churning beneath his skin. They had all been wrong. Every single one of them. And Jade — she had been alone in it, carrying the weight of something none of them had cared to understand.
His phone buzzed, another message from Dayo.
Dayo: "Careful, Zion. Some poisons are sweet to taste but bitter to swallow."
Zion exhaled shakily, his eyes still locked on the screen. The truth was heavy, dark, and he didn't know how to carry it. But he knew one thing: Stephen — Samuel — and Lucas were going to pay. They had to.
______________________________________
Jade's POV
I lay in bed with my eyes half-open, the room dark and quiet except for the occasional creak of wood or hum of passing cars. My phone rested beside me, a cold, silent thing that kept pulling my attention.
Miriam's voice played in my head, her warning slipping out that afternoon with that lazy confidence she always had. "Men like that are all skin and teeth, babe. Trouble with good skin and bad intentions." She hadn't said it seriously, just in that teasing way she does when she's trying to poke a reaction out of me.
But tonight, her words wouldn't settle.
Stephen's text was still there — "Thinking of you, Arìké. Hope you had a good day." The first time I saw it, I almost smiled. Almost. But the more I stared at it, the more it felt like something hanging just out of sight.
It was weird, now that I thought about it. I had tried to find him on Instagram once, just to see — just to know more than what he let me see. I typed "Stephen" and scrolled through endless profiles, but nothing. No last name. Nothing to go by.
I didn't know his surname. How had I never asked? How had he never offered?
And I had never seen him with friends. No random guys slapping his back or dragging him away mid-conversation. No laughter from a distance that I could trace back to him. Stephen was always alone — always with me. Always wanting to be with me.
I remembered that offhand comment he made a few days ago — "You wouldn't get it, Jade. Not your scene." The corner of his mouth had curled up when he said it, a smirk like he was in on a joke I didn't understand. He had mentioned Extasy Drift like it was a memory, a place etched into him.
I had been there before. And regretted it. The name Extasy Drift was like a tattoo sketched into my brain. A bad memory difficult to erase.
My phone screen dimmed, Stephen's name a gray blur. It felt like I knew so much about him and nothing at all. Like I had pulled a stranger close, not realizing the space between us was a question mark I hadn't bothered to fill in.
Something felt wrong. Like the smile that hides sharp teeth. Like the eyes that watch too closely.
I closed my eyes, but the darkness behind my eyelids felt deeper, more suffocating. I couldn't shake the thought that I had let myself slip, that I had missed something important. The feeling crawled under my skin, restless and unsatisfied.
I opened my eyes, the room still and silent, and wondered if I had ever really known him at all.