Arden didn't sleep.
He sat on the couch long after the city quieted into a restless hum, replaying the man's words over and over. She's important to you. The calm certainty in the stranger's voice had been worse than a threat. It meant observation. Planning.
By dawn, Arden had already packed a small bag he didn't intend to use. Old habits died hard.
His phone rang just as the sun crept through the curtains.
His father.
Arden stared at the screen for a long second before answering. "You said Lagos would be safer."
"It is," his father replied calmly. "But safety isn't absence. It's management."
Arden laughed once, humorless. "They approached her."
Silence stretched on the line.
"That complicates things," his father said finally.
"She's not a complication," Arden snapped. "She's a person."
"I know," his father said quietly. "Which is why you need to listen carefully now."
Later that morning, Arden insisted on seeing Ife.
She was irritated but relieved when she saw him.
"You look like you lost a fight with insomnia," she said.
"Something like that."
They walked together toward the busier part of town. Arden stayed alert, his body reacting to every sudden movement.
"I spoke to my father," he said.
Her steps slowed. "And?"
"And he's sending someone."
She stopped completely. "Someone as in help… or control?"
Arden didn't answer.
She sighed. "Of course."
The "someone" arrived that afternoon.
He introduced himself as Victor. Clean-cut. Sharp-eyed. Too calm.
"Nice to finally meet you, Miss Ifeoma," Victor said politely.
She smiled tightly. "You know my name."
"Arden talks about you," Victor replied smoothly.
That earned him a look from Arden.
Victor glanced around. "We need to move. Now."
"What?" Ife asked.
"No," Arden said. "She's not leaving."
Victor met his gaze. "This isn't optional."
Before Arden could respond, chaos erupted.
A loud bang echoed nearby—gunshot or backfire, Arden couldn't tell—but panic rippled through the street. People screamed. Scattered.
Victor moved fast, grabbing Ife's arm.
Arden reacted instinctively, pulling her back. "Don't touch her!"
Ife's heart hammered. "Arden!"
Another bang.
Victor swore. "We're being tested."
Arden wrapped an arm around Ife, shielding her as they ducked behind a parked car. His breath was steady despite the adrenaline flooding his veins.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded shakily. "I think so."
For the first time, fear had a name.
And it was real.
When the noise faded, the street slowly came back to life. No one was hurt. No bodies. No obvious attacker.
A message arrived on Arden's phone.
Now you understand.
Ife saw his face change.
"What did they send?" she asked quietly.
He hesitated—then handed her the phone.
She read the message. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her voice stayed firm. "They want you afraid."
"Yes."
"And they want me scared enough to leave."
He nodded.
She looked up at him. "That's not happening."
Arden stared at her. "Ife—"
"I said no," she repeated. "You don't get to decide this alone."
That night, Ife couldn't stop shaking.
Not from fear—but from anger.
She sat on her bed, replaying the moment over and over. The noise. Arden's arm around her. The way he hadn't hesitated.
Her phone buzzed.
I'm outside.
She didn't ask questions. She opened the door.
Arden stood there, eyes tired, shoulders heavy.
"I shouldn't be here," he said.
"You are," she replied.
They sat in silence for a long moment.
"I'm scared," she admitted finally. "But I'm not running."
He exhaled slowly. "I don't know how to keep you safe."
She reached for his hand. "Then we learn together."
Their fingers intertwined naturally, the weight of the world pressing close—but not crushing.
Outside, a car drove past slowly.
Inside, something unbreakable was beginning to form.