Chapter 210: THROUGH THE EYES OF THE HUNTER

The morning light was thin and gray, bleeding weakly through the cracks of the safehouse. Yet the shadow outside felt heavier than the sun could pierce.

Daniel’s cry still rang in their ears. His small hand trembled as he clutched Amaka’s sleeve, eyes fixed on the window.

The figure hadn’t moved. It stood in the rain like a sentinel, silent, faceless in the downpour. Watching. Waiting.

Kayode cursed under his breath, pressing his back against the wall as he peered through a narrow slit in the boards. “He’s not random. He knows we’re here.”

Michael’s hand hovered over his pistol, his knuckles pale. “One man doesn’t come alone. He’s bait. His job is to rattle us, keep us frozen until the rest circle in.”

Amaka’s hold on Daniel tightened. Her voice came low, clipped. “Then we don’t wait for the circle to close. We move—now.”

Naya’s chest ached with the truth of it. Waiting meant death. But moving blind meant walking into the teeth of a trap. She steadied her breath, forcing the fear into the pit of her stomach. “No rash steps. We need to see if he’s alone.”

She turned to Chike, whose face was still pale from his wounds but whose eyes carried sharp focus. “You’ve moved in their shadows before. What does this mean?”

Chike rubbed his temples. “It means they’re testing us. They want to see if we break under pressure, if panic makes us sloppy. If he’s standing there, it’s because they’ve already positioned men around the block.”

Kayode swore again. “Then we don’t give them what they want. We slip before they tighten the noose.”

“And if slipping means walking right into their arms?” Amaka countered, her voice breaking into a tremor.

The argument teetered on the edge of chaos. But before anyone could speak again, the shadow moved.

The figure stepped forward into the dim light. A tall man, dressed in black, his features obscured by a hood. He raised a hand—not in peace, but in slow, deliberate mockery. A signal.

Michael’s stomach dropped. “That’s it. They’re here.”

The sound came next. A faint scrape on the back wall. Then another. The creak of boots on wet wood.

They weren’t outside anymore. They were coming in.

“Positions!” Michael barked, his voice carrying the sharpness of command. He raised his weapon, eyes sweeping the room.

Kayode grabbed a knife from the table, his muscles tense. “Naya, get Daniel out of sight!”

Her instincts screamed. She pulled the boy close, shoving him into the small storage crawl at the corner. “Stay quiet. Don’t come out, no matter what.” His wide eyes brimmed with tears, but he nodded.

The first crash came from the back door. The wood groaned, splintering under the force of a boot. Then again. The hinges rattled violently.

“Move to the front,” Kayode hissed. “If we’re cornered inside, we’re finished.”

But the front door was no safer. Another shadow passed the window. Then another. They were surrounded.

Amaka’s face twisted with rage and fear. “We can’t fight them all!”

Naya grabbed her wrist, forcing her eyes to meet hers. “Then we don’t fight. We outthink.”

A plan sparked in her mind—risky, fragile, but the only one that gave them a chance.

“There’s the tunnel,” she whispered quickly.

Michael blinked. “The old drainage tunnel under the floorboards?”

“Yes. It leads out near the river path.”

Kayode’s eyes narrowed. “It’s unstable. If it collapses—”

“Better a collapse than capture,” Naya snapped. Her voice trembled, but her eyes burned.

A third crash rattled the back door. The wood was close to giving way.

Michael nodded once. “Do it. Fast.”

They threw aside the rug in the center of the room. Beneath, the rotted boards concealed a hatch. Kayode tore it open, the scent of damp earth and mildew rushing up.

“Go,” he urged. “One by one.”

Amaka shoved Daniel toward the opening, her face pale but determined. “He goes first.”

The boy slid into the darkness, his small body swallowed by the tunnel. Amaka followed, then Chike, his breathing labored but steady.

Another crash. The back door split down the middle, a hand forcing its way through.

Michael turned, weapon raised. “Naya, go!”

But she hesitated, her eyes locking with Kayode’s. “Not without you.”

He gave her a tight smile, the kind that carried both defiance and heartbreak. “Always the stubborn one.”

The door burst open. Shadows poured in, black-clad figures with weapons gleaming.

Kayode shoved Naya into the tunnel, his knife flashing as he turned to meet the first intruder. “Go, Naya! Run!”

Her scream caught in her throat as the hatch slammed shut above her.

The tunnel was narrow, forcing them onto hands and knees. Darkness pressed in, the air thick and damp.

Daniel whimpered, his small voice echoing against the earth. Amaka hushed him, her trembling hand brushing his back.

Behind them, Naya’s breath came in gasps, her mind screaming Kayode’s name with every crawl forward. The sound of fighting echoed faintly above—the clash of bodies, the bark of orders, the crack of gunfire.

Michael’s voice cut through the dark. “Keep moving! Don’t stop!”

The tunnel twisted, the walls damp and crumbling. Mud caked their palms, water pooled in shallow dips. The weight of earth above them felt suffocating.

Naya’s heart pounded. Every scrape of her hand against stone felt like time slipping through her fingers. Kayode was behind. Alone.

She bit back tears, forcing herself forward. For Daniel. For all of them.

Halfway through, the tunnel shuddered. Earth rained down in clumps. A groan rippled through the soil like thunder underground.

“Keep moving!” Michael shouted.

A crack split open above, water seeping in. The ground trembled again.

“Faster!” Naya urged, pushing Daniel ahead of her.

But then—a sharp collapse. The wall behind them caved, sealing the path back. Naya froze, soil brushing against her hair, dust choking her throat.

The way back to Kayode was gone.

Her chest caved inward, but Michael’s voice drove her forward. “Don’t stop! We’re almost out!”

Light appeared ahead—a faint glow filtering through broken grates. The river path.

Chike crawled out first, gasping for air as he pulled Daniel through. Amaka stumbled out next, her knees giving way on the damp stones.

Naya emerged last, her chest heaving, her face streaked with mud and tears. The tunnel groaned again before collapsing entirely, sealing shut like a grave.

The sound was final.

Naya fell to her knees, her hands trembling. Kayode’s face burned in her mind. His last words echoed like a curse.

Always the stubborn one.

Michael gripped her arm, pulling her up. “We can’t stay. They’ll track us. Move!”

But Naya’s feet refused. Her chest ached with the unbearable truth. Kayode was gone.

Or worse—captured.

As they stumbled along the river path, shadows rippled against the water. A voice carried through the mist, low and mocking.

“Well,” it drawled. “Look what crawled out of the dirt.”

Figures emerged from the fog, surrounding them once again.

And at the center, dragged in chains, bloodied but alive—

Kayode.

His eyes locked on Naya’s, filled with pain and defiance.

The voice laughed. “The hunter always gets his prey.”