Chapter 188: THE ASHES THAT SPEAK

The rain had stopped, but the night still carried the weight of something unfinished. Naya sat curled on the edge of the couch, staring at the flickering shadows on the wall. The house felt colder than usual, though the air wasn’t heavy with storm. It was the silence—thick, pressing, as though the walls themselves were listening.

Beside her, Amaka clasped her hand.

“You haven’t said a word since we left the station,” she whispered.

Naya blinked, forcing her eyes to focus. Images replayed in her head—the detective’s wary tone, the photograph slid across the desk, the chilling possibility that Kayode’s disappearance wasn’t just an act of escape but something orchestrated.

“I don’t know what to say,” Naya admitted, her voice hoarse. “Every time I think I’m getting closer to the truth, it pulls further away.”

Amaka squeezed tighter. “That’s exactly what they want—to break you. But you’re stronger than that.”

Before Naya could reply, a soft buzz broke the silence. Her phone, face down on the coffee table, vibrated again and again until the sound crawled under her skin.

She hesitated. Something about the insistence of it felt… wrong.

Amaka reached for it, but Naya snatched it up first. The screen displayed an unknown number. No caller ID.

Her heart knocked against her ribs. “It’s them again.”

She pressed accept.

The line was silent at first, filled only with a faint crackle, like old vinyl spinning. Then a voice came, distorted, hushed, but chillingly clear:

“You opened the ashes.”

Naya froze. “Who is this?”

“You should have left them buried,” the voice continued, as if ignoring her question. “Now, they’ll come for you. And for everyone close to you.”

Amaka leaned closer, her breath quickening. “Hang up,” she mouthed.

But Naya couldn’t. Her knuckles whitened around the phone. “What do you want from me?”

The silence stretched. Then came a low chuckle—raspy, familiar yet unplaceable. “The truth has teeth, Naya. And it always bites back.”

The line went dead.

Naya stared at the phone in her hand, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

“What did they say?” Amaka asked, her voice unsteady.

Naya swallowed. “They know. They know we found the letter. They know we went digging.”

Amaka’s face paled. “Then we can’t stay here.”

Before Naya could respond, there was a sudden crash outside—a metallic clatter that rang too close, too deliberate to be chance. They both froze.

“Stay here,” Naya whispered, though her body trembled.

Amaka grabbed her arm. “Are you mad? You’re not going out there alone.”

But Naya pulled free, edging toward the window. She peeked through the curtain, heart in her throat. At first, nothing—just the wet gleam of the street under lamplight. Then movement. A shadow slipping past the gate, quick and deliberate.

She stumbled back. “Someone’s outside.”

Amaka’s breath caught. “Do you think it’s him?”

Naya shook her head. “I don’t know.”

The front door rattled suddenly, as if tested. The lock held, but the sound of metal against metal left no doubt—they weren’t imagining it. Someone was there.

Amaka pressed her hands to her mouth. “We have to call the police.”

Naya fumbled with her phone, but before she could dial, a folded paper slipped under the door, pushed through the narrow gap.

It landed softly on the rug, edges damp from the rain.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence stretched until it became unbearable. Finally, Naya bent down, her fingers shaking as she picked it up.

The paper smelled faintly of smoke. She unfolded it, and her breath hitched.

Scrawled in uneven ink were the words:

“Stop digging—or you’ll join him in the ground.”

Amaka backed away, her face pale. “They’re watching us.”

Naya clenched the note. Fear clawed at her chest, but beneath it, something else stirred—a stubborn fire, a refusal to bow.

“They want me afraid,” she whispered. “But I won’t stop. I can’t. Kayode’s out there, and he needs me.”

Amaka shook her head. “At what cost, Naya? Look at us. They’re already here. What if next time, it’s not a note? What if they break in? What if—”

Her words cut off at the sudden sound of footsteps—inside.

Naya’s blood ran cold. She turned toward the hallway. The back door.

Someone had come in.

The floor creaked again, closer this time.

Amaka clutched Naya’s arm. “We’re not alone.”

Naya’s mind raced. There was no time to call for help, no time to think. Her eyes darted to the kitchen. A knife block glimmered faintly under the weak light. She grabbed Amaka’s hand and pulled her silently toward it.

Every second felt stretched, every breath loud enough to betray them.

The shadow appeared at the end of the hallway. Tall. Broad. Still.

Naya’s grip tightened on Amaka.

The figure didn’t move, only stood there, watching. The silence between them grew unbearable until finally, the figure took a step forward.

“Who are you?” Naya demanded, her voice breaking but loud enough to cut through the fear.

The figure paused. Then, slowly, it raised a hand.

Something glinted.

Amaka gasped. “He’s got—”

But before she could finish, the lights flickered out, plunging the house into darkness.

A thud shook the floor. Then silence.

Amaka’s scream tore through the night.

The Shadow in the Dark