I still hadn’t heard from Hauwa after one week, and I wondered whether she had missed my email or was simply overwhelmed with work. I did not want to call, as I was sure JK would leave no stone unturned in getting information out of them, knowing I would contact my closest girlfriends, and I did not want to put them in that position. Although I know my girlfriends would choose to protect me.
The tech awards were all over social media that weekend. From the moment I saw it, I went across all the social media to follow the event. Guess who was filled with so much pride when JK received his award that she momentarily forgot she had moved on? It was me!
I was confused when I saw Hauwa’u at the event, sitting with JK in one of the many videos I watched. The Tech industry was not her space, and even if my friend found herself at an event with JK, she would have made sure to sit many seats away from him. I still don’t understand why Hauwa acted that way, despite JK’s many attempts to be polite and respectful. They seemed to find a way to mutually exist because of me.
It looked weird the way Hauwa’u was gazing at JK like a lovesick teenager in the 10-second video clip. In that instance, I felt a little concerned for her; social media would likely blow it out of proportion, making it a Herculean task to explain to Alhaji, her husband. Worse, she was not even with her veil; her head was all exposed. Hauwa’u grew up in Lagos and did not cover her hair, but started doing so in public after she got married. Veils were left in the car on our nights out, but we weren’t expecting anyone to take pictures of us, and the venues of our nights out were our homes.
I reached for my phone to call Hawa’u, chuckling when I remembered yet again that it was not an option. The more I watched the clips, the more it meant something different. The last thought was preposterous. Hauwa’u and JK. The sun will cease to rise before that could happen. JK has a baby mama to wed, Hauwa’us unusual marriage arrangement and lifestyle, as well as animosity towards JK, would never allow it. I wondered if I had watched too many Nollywood movies recently for such plot twists to come easily to mind.
I logged out of the media space and clicked on the Economist magazine to read. I did not have the headspace to entertain such ridiculous thoughts. I made up my mind to stop checking online for JK and focus on myself and my girls.
I thought of calling my mom, but changed my mind. The last time I called, she begged me to contact JK, despite my instructions not to discuss JK at any time I called. She kept insisting that the girls need their father and would stubbornly not let me be, so I have given her a break equally. I still had not told my mother I was pregnant. I could almost predict my mom’s action. She would literally pass her phone to JK so that when my random call came through, he would answer it. Sometimes, I wonder who her child was, JK or me? She’s all about JK, this JK that, but can’t see what her precious JK had done to me, her own daughter. I love that woman to bits, but I swear, she is a sellout. Quite frankly, the connection between them sometimes makes me jealous. JK doesn’t play with my mom. He displays the same warmth and affection he has for his mom towards my mum. For that, he’s earned points with my family members. The way my mom sings his praises, he can do no wrong in her eyes. One day, my mum is on my side, and the next day she is on JK’s.
Landing at JFK airport, Dunni’s heart pounded with nervous anticipation. The air was crisp, the unfamiliar scents of jet fuel and New York traffic sharp in her nose. She made a stop at her hotel to freshen up and drop her luggage, but she was too excited to see the surprise on Moses’ face that the thought of resting before setting out was unappealing.
The drive to Moses suburb felt endless. Her heartbeat was in rhythm with the passing mile markers. His neighbourhood was as she’d imagined — spacious, the scent of cut grass lingering in the cool air. His house stood tall and sleek, framed by perfectly manicured lawns. Space. Always space. That was something they both had in common.
She rang the bell, hands trembling. Over the last four weeks, she had changed her mind many times, but when she remembered Moses’ sacrifice, she knew this trip was something she had to make. She was about to leave when the door opened.
Becca. The scent of her perfume reached Dunni first, floral and overpowering. Didn’t Moses say they were just work colleagues and nothing more? Yet she was staying at his New York residence.
“Hi. You must be Dunni,” Becca said, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Moses didn’t mention we were expecting anyone.”
“We?” Dunni caught the word instantly.
“I was in town… thought I’d say hello.”
“Ahhh.” She cooed. “He’s out of town but will be back in two days. You can come then.” She spoke with a saccharine sweetness so overdone it nearly made Dunni gag.
“Not to worry. I’ll call him,” Dunni fibbed. She didn’t want to let Becca have the upper hand.
She turned to leave. Her heart felt crushed, breath tight in her throat. She willed the tears not to fall and was lucky to have made it to the car. Thankfully, the driver had insisted on waiting. Dunni returned to her hotel, heart heavy, yet her eyes remained dry. She wasn’t going to torture herself any longer. She would return home and put Moses behind her for good. Some things were never meant to be. A few days later, she flew home.
When Ola asked how the trip had gone, she lied and explained she could not make the trip.
Dunni knew no one else would ever fit the space Moses had carved within her heart. And if life led them down different paths… then she would walk alone. Some loves were etched too deeply. Although she tried to forget him, it was his face she still found in her dreams. Dunni threw herself into her work, letting it consume every part of her. She’d always been a workaholic — but now, she took it to extremes. Work became her outlet to drown the pain, and Ola’s insistent pleas to rest fell on deaf ears.
Dunni was back home. Though her body had healed, her mind remained tangled in restless knots. Her tranquil home, once her safe space, now seemed smaller somehow, the air thick with unspoken thoughts threatening to suffocate her. The faint scent of lavender oil drifted from the diffuser on the dresser, meant to calm her, but instead it stirred an ache she couldn’t name.
At night, the dreams came. It was always Moses reaching out to help her out of the forest. She told herself they were tricks of her weary mind. Yet more than once, her fingers hovered over her phone, yearning to bridge a gap that felt impossibly wide. A wall, invisible but impenetrable, stood between them now. She had to accept that it was no longer the same with them. He had moved on, and she had to do the same.
A soft knock stirred her from her thoughts.
“Come in,” she called in an upbeat tone that was the opposite of how she felt. She was not ready to deal with her mum’s insistent “how are you?” and prying eyes trying to probe into the recesses of her soul as she tried to hide the fear and anxiety stemming from her recent ordeal. She still wondered why Maami always knocked before coming in. They were the only ones in the house, and just answering required more energy than she could explain. She was comfortable with gestures and grunts and could not muster the energy to engage in small talk. She had limited her visitors to almost none, wearied by their attempt at small talk and look of pity.
Her mother entered, the warm, spicy aroma of “asaro” palm oil yam porridge with spinach filling the air, wrapping the room in something comforting and familiar.
“Maami, you don’t need to treat me like an invalid. I’m perfectly fine now,” Dunni protested, pushing herself up against the pillows. Her stomach grumbled in defiance. “At this rate, I’ll be two sizes bigger by the time I return to work.”
“Maybe you should start going to the gym,” her mother teased, setting the tray down with a gentle smile.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“Oti o, you that need more flesh on these your bones. I only said gym to get you to leave the house. Going out and meeting people will do you good.”
“The gym sounds like a good idea,” Dunni agreed with her mother. “But I feel so lazy. I can barely jog around the house, not alone get on a treadmill.”
An unbidden image of Moses flashed through her mind, shattering every resolution to put him at the back burner of her mind. His signature handsome grin adorning his face, eyes crinkling with mischief as he tugged her out of the house to gym classes, promising to suffer through them with her. The scene was so real, she did not know when a sigh slipped from her lips.
Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “What is it, my daughter?”
“Nothing, Maami.”
Moses wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss with her mother or could bear to unpack the too many unsaid words and too many wounds beneath the surface. Stewing under the weight of what could have been better than facing her reality of what she had lost. She took a spoonful of the porridge, savouring the spiciness that brought tears to her eyes. Tears of the pain she felt in her heart than from the pain on her tongue.
Having Tade in her corner did nothing to assuage the deepening wound from the loss of Moses, and her current ordeal only magnified her loss. She could picture Moses’ reaction clearly at every scene as her day unfolded, had he been here. She was exhausted from beating herself for destroying their friendship. She would give anything to have him back in her life – colleague, neighbour boyfriend, husband or anything.
Tade had been visiting, trying, perhaps too hard to mend what had broken. He’d even shared a revelation that Dr. Larry was their long presumed-dead father. A fact traced back to her own birth certificate. But the news barely registered. She was happy for him, but as for their relationship, it was a ship that had sailed. Trust was a fragile thing, and theirs had shattered into irreplaceable pieces.
“You’re my self-appointed doctor,” she’d teased him when he’d asked to remain friends. But it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Moses, and he never could be.
“Oh! Sorry, Maami — I didn’t realise you were there,” Dunni said, startled, blinking rapidly
“You were far away. Are the nightmares still coming?”
“No, Maami,” she lied smoothly.
In truth, they came each night. It was always ending the same way. Moses, arms wrapped around her like a sanctuary in the storm, at other times, or he reaching out to her from the depths of a forest. She wrote them down as her therapist advised, but never mentioned the ending. Some connections felt too sacred to speak aloud.
On her way out of the room, her mother paused at the door, “How’s Moses? I haven’t heard from him since he left the hospital.”
Dunni stilled.
“Maami… Moses is in the US,” she murmured, her voice measured and cautious.
Her mother frowned. “I don’t know about the US. But he was in that hospital for three days and three nights while you were asleep and not responding. He never left your side until you woke.”
She was about to correct her mum for the umpteenth time. Maami will never use the word coma. But what she heard just sent a tremor rippling through her. “Are you sure?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“Why would I lie? That boy is a gem. They say he flew in, even entered that, Salisa Forest.”
“Sambisa, Maami,” Dunni corrected automatically. Her mother always seemed to have another version of it — sometimes Samisam, sometimes Bisam.
“Moses? In Sambisa?” she whispered, awe colouring her voice. It was something Moses might’ve done if he were still in Nigeria… but from the US? The thought was dizzying.
“Why haven’t you called him?” Maami asked, a deep frown furrowing her brow.
“I’ve been focusing on recovery,” she replied, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t ready to unravel the threads of their estranged friendship or discuss with her mother what happened before he left.
Her mother gave a knowing smile. “Hmm. I hear you.”
When she was finally alone, Dunni’s heart thundered. She wasn’t imagining it. Moses had been there. It was a bittersweet moment. Glad that she was not crazy, but sad their friendship had slowly faded. This did not stop the warmth surging through her, threatening to swallow her whole. Without ever touching her, Moses had marked her for life.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
“Hey, Gimbiyan Sambisa!” meaning queen of Sambisa, Ola’s teasing voice rang out — a nickname he’d coined since her return. “How are you doing? Hope you’re getting all the rest you need.”
“I’m good. Maami has been spoiling me silly. I’m already dreading how I’ll cope when she leaves.”
“No rush back to work,” Ola assured her. “We’ve got your projects covered.”
Dunni did not argue with Ola, although she was growing crazy from sitting at home, but she also was not up to returning to work yet. The sudden flashbacks, the way she froze at the sound of a door shutting, running water, or even the rustle of leaves in the evening were all signs of the trauma that clung to her.. She hesitated, her pulse quickening. Then she asked softly, demanding the truth, “My mother said Moses was at the hospital.”
Silence hummed on the line.
“But… you saw him when you woke up,” Ola remarked. “You asked if you were home .”
“I don’t remember.”
But her tone sharpened as she fired the questions like an investigator. “When did Moses arrive? When did he leave? And don’t tell me to ask him.”
She could almost see Ola shrugging.
Ola hesitated, always careful not to tread too deeply into their tangled history. They needed to figure it out themselves without the help of anyone.
“He landed the day after you were kidnapped. Left the day you woke. He recruited the rescue team.”
Her breath caught. Tears pricked her eyes. Moses. He had done all of that for her. A truth settled deep within her. Moses was etched into her heart. She longed for him still, and the belief that no one could ever replace him both reassured and terrified her.
“I want to see him,” she whispered. “But it must be a surprise. Will you help me?”
Now that Dunni was beginning to understand just how deep Moses’ love ran, Ola no longer hesitated. “Of course. What do you need?”
“An address.”
The moment they hung up, Dunni called the travel agency, her voice trembling with resolve. The trip was booked, and she just had to wait to complete her treatment.
Dunni was still heavily sedated, her breath shallow, her chest rising and falling in a slow, fragile rhythm. The hospital room pulsed with a low mechanical hum of monitors, IV drips, distant voices muffled behind thick walls. The acrid bite of antiseptic hung in the air, layered over the stale bitterness of Moses’ untouched coffee cooling on the side table.
He sat slumped in a hard white turned brown plastic chair, unshaven, eyes sunken with exhaustion. No one could convince him to leave. Her mother came and went, slipping home to rest and return. Ola stopped by once a day — though Moses had barely noticed the passage of time.
“Man, you need to get out of here and clean up,” Ola urged, voice rough as he leaned against the doorframe. “You look bad enough to send her into another coma if she wakes up and sees you.”
Moses didn’t flinch. His gaze remained fixed on Dunni. “At least when she wakes, she’ll see me. You should’ve seen how she clung to me after the rescue. Wouldn’t let go until they sedated her. How I look will be the least of her worries.”
Ola folded his arms, exhaling through his nose. “And even now, I think she knows you’re here.”
A tired smile ghosted across Moses’ lips. “Her body’s asleep, but her heart… maybe it remembers.”
Ola let out a dry chuckle. “Three days in the hospital and now you’re suddenly a doctor, huh?”
Moses gave a weak laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll leave when she opens her eyes. Until then… this is where I stay.”
“You need a break, bro.”
Moses ran a hand down his face, stubble rasping against his palm. “I can’t. I see the way Tade’s been looking at me, but this isn’t about him. We all want her to recover. Dunni is my heart — always has been, always will be. Married or not… that doesn’t change. Her wellbeing comes first.”
Ola’s tone softened, a note of caution threading through his words. “But she chose him. We’ve got to respect that.”
“I do,” Moses said quietly, voice taut with barely masked ache. “But you don’t just stop loving someone after sixteen years. That would take another lifetime.”
Ola’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen with a grimace. “More lies. Now they’re claiming the military rescued the women… saying a terrorist bomb went off by accident. We both know that’s nonsense.”
Moses nodded grimly. They all knew the so-called cleanup crew or whatever they truly were had their own reasons for wanting that land. The government’s line about building a factory to foster development, erase the land’s dark reputation, and attract foreign investors reeked of spin. Putting up smokescreens for the citizenry was their usual modus operandi. But in this country, strange was normal.
Then a soft moan broke through the sterile hush. Both men’s eyes flicked to Dunni as her eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling, then slowly parted. Her gaze roved the room, glassy but aware.
“What’s… happening?” she whispered, voice dry and cracked. “Am I… home?”
Moses was already leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “If you call this hospital bed home… then yes.”
A choked laugh caught in his throat, relief crashing through him like a wave. He hadn’t realized just how tightly the fear had coiled inside him until now.
Across the thin hospital blanket, Dunni attempted to lift her hand playfully but a sharp gasp escaped instead.
“That hurts,” she murmured, a crease deepening between her brows as pain flickered across her features.
“Easy,” Moses murmured, voice gentling. He shifted closer, instinctively protective.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “The others?” she asked, her words fragile, every syllable laced with effort. Another shadow of pain crossed her face.
“They’re safe,” Moses answered softly. “I’m… I’m sorry about your friend.”
Her eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching. “I have to find her family,” she whispered. “She had a son.”
“As soon as you’re strong enough,” Moses replied quickly, knowing her too well. His fingers hovered, then pressed the call button. “But first… you need to rest.”
A soft chime echoed, and within moments the door swung open. Nurses bustled in, the crisp rustle of linens and muted clink of equipment filling the space.
“Out,” one of them ordered, already moving to the bedside.
Moses and Ola exchanged a look, then stepped out into the hallway.
Outside, Moses stretched, knuckling the back of his neck. The adrenaline had left him drained. “My work here is done,” he said with a weary grin. “Catching the next flight out.”
“Won’t you say goodbye?” Ola asked.
Ola shook his head. “Nah. I’ve done what I came here for. No point making it awkward. She’s safe — that’s all that matters. Now I can finally sleep. Win-win.”
02:25 – Leave with the rescued. The message blinked on Segal’s phone. It was from MI Bello—the team they had collaborated with.
“We have 55 minutes to get any rescues out of the area.”
Segal barked the update to his men as they made their way, dropping into the dark night from the helicopter crouching in the shadows, their forms melting into the dark night like leopards stalking prey. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth. The oppressive silence was only broken by the soft rustle of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal birds.
Sambisa was nothing like the media had described—a dense jungle, impenetrable and mysterious. In reality, it was a harsh, raw land littered with makeshift tents cobbled together from cut trees and dry leaves. The widely circulated tale of a mangrove forest, rivers winding like silver serpents, and wild animals prowling in the underbrush was a myth—this was no Colombian Amazon jungle. There were no meandering waters or echoing caves here—just hilly terrain and tall trees, spaced wide enough to reveal a dark, visible sky.
The first raindrops hitting their skin, soft as whispers. Then came the deluge—a torrential downpour that masked the distant thrum of the helicopter blades as it touched down ten miles from the settlement. Rain mixed with the earth, the night was deadly still, yet heavy with expectation and the rush of adrenalin in anticipation of the rescue mission.
The team would walk the rest of the way. The women were close. Thanks to two embedded informants inside Boko Haram, the rescuers had a flow of intel—risky, erratic, but crucial. The weather had made surveillance harder, but the women had arrived recently, and they couldn’t afford to wait.
Inside one of the ragged tents, the women huddled together, frightened and despondent, with hope ebbing away with each passing moment. The air was sour with sweat, fear, and unwashed bodies. Muddy rainwater crept in, soaking their already threadbare clothes. Some of the women looked barely alive—dehydrated lips cracked open, skin dull and stretched over bones, the light in their eyes long extinguished.
They had overheard enough to know there would be no negotiations. The government had taken a hardline stance, vowing to rescue them, but days had passed, and no one had come.
Dunni stared blankly ahead. Since they had left Lana’s body behind, she hadn’t spoken, eaten, or blinked. The others tried to coax her, their voices cracking with desperation. But she looked through them, eyes wide open, dry, and unblinking.
She was the first to sense the shift—a rustle, a shadow. Then the men emerged like ghosts, signalling silence. Dunni didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them, as they rounded up the women, gently nudging those barely awake. Some eyes sparked with hope. Dunni’s remained lifeless.
The extraction took fifteen minutes. Then they vanished into the forest, boots silent on the soggy ground, as if the rescue had never happened.
For Moses, time froze. Rain pummeled him, cold and stinging, but all he saw was Dunni—a ghost of the woman he once knew. She was alive. That was enough for now. He would get her the best care: emotional, physical, and mental. Although he had no claim on her and months had passed with no contact, their friendship-or—or whatever it could have been—was buried beneath silence and time. But none of that mattered now. He was here to ensure she made it home safely.
What he hadn’t prepared for was the void in her eyes as she passed him without even a flicker of recognition.
The team hustled the women into the helicopter with an urgency that left Moses perplexed but made sense a few minutes after when a huge explosion ripped the ground below a few minutes into the sky rocking the helicopter. Moses looked below at the flames and smoke bellowing up.
“What was that?” he shouted at Segal.
“They bombed the place. That’s why we had 55 minutes.”
Moses shuddered. What if they hadn’t made it tonight? Would any of the women still be alive?
Inside the rented chopper, he wrapped Dunni in a blanket, holding her close. His tears mingled with the rain still clinging to his face. She didn’t look at him, but her body eased slightly, her eyes fluttering closed for the first time.
“She lost her friend,” said a woman beside them quietly. “Since then, she hasn’t spoken, eaten, or even slept. Your wife will need you now.”
Moses gave a bittersweet smile at the word wife. If only…
He wished he could rewind time to the beginning, when they first became friends. When he should’ve told her she was his future. The thought of what she had endured crushed his heart.
“How are you?” he asked gently.
“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged. “We saw hell. Minute to minute, we didn’t know if we’d live. I’m leaving this country. Going to my family abroad. I’m done.”
He didn’t blame her.
The government had refused to negotiate. Their “rescue mission” had barely begun many days after the kidnapping, and they hadn’t even located Sambisa.
Segal, ever professional, contacted MI Bello to have ambulances waiting.
As the chopper landed, medical teams from Tade’s hospital were already in position.
Tade was there. He ran to them, eyes locking on Dunni. Moses refused to let her go, her head tucked under his chin, still unresponsive.
“She’s been like this since we picked them up,” Moses said. “She’s in shock.”
Tade’s voice trembled, though he forced calm into it. “Let’s get her to the hospital.”
He stretched his hand toward her. Dunni flinched, retreating deeper into Moses’s arms.
That should’ve made Moses feel something like joy. But all he felt was grief.
She wasn’t here—not really.
“Will she be okay?” Moses asked with uncertainty.
Tade met his eyes, his own filling with sorrow.
“She’ll get help. Therapy, trauma care, and any care required. She’ll come back. She’s strong. Soon we’ll have the no-nonsense fireball back.”
He tried a smile. Moses managed a weak one in return.
He would give anything to see her whole again. To wipe away every memory of the horror she endured.
To bring Dunni—not this hollow shell—back from the dark.
The last light of the sun bled into the horizon, staining the sky in hues of orange and deep purple. The air was thick, carrying the dry scent of dust and sweat, mingling with the distant smoke that curled in ominous tendrils. Each breath Dunni took felt heavier than the last, her limbs screaming in protest. She had been the strong one, the one whispering words of courage to Lana, forcing a smile when despair threatened to choke her. But now, her strength was slipping away like sand through clenched fingers.
She turned to check on Lana, and the sight froze her blood.
“Lana,” she whispered, her voice barely above the whisper of the evening breeze. “Lana?” Her fingers trembled as she reached out, tapping her friend’s arm. No response.
A cold wave of dread swept through her, sinking deep into her bones. “Lana, wake up!” she pleaded, her voice rising with each desperate call. Her hands shook as she grasped Lana’s shoulders and shook her gently, then violently.
Two men rushed toward her, their faces shadowed in the dim light. One reached out to check for a pulse, the other bent to lift Lana’s body. But Dunni flung herself over her friend, clutching her with a strength she didn’t know she had.
“No! Get back!” she screamed, her voice raw with anguish.
More hands came, rough and unyielding, prying her away. She fought, kicked, thrashed, her cries splitting the silence of the night like a shattered mirror.
“She’s just sleeping,” she muttered, her breath hitching. “She’ll wake up soon. She just needs to wake up.”
She rocked herself, hugging her knees, her eyes wide and unfocused. Around her, the other women stood in silence, their faces carved with sorrow and fear. They had all learned to speak without words—through glances, through the weight of shared suffering. But Lana had been her anchor, the only voice that had kept her sane in this madness. Now, that voice was gone.
The men started rounding them up. A shadow loomed over her, his face set in hard lines.
“Tashi mu wuce.” His voice was like a hammer striking cold steel.
Dunni barely heard him. She was drowning in a haze, floating outside herself, her body refusing to move. The man barked again, his tone sharper. When she didn’t respond, a pair of hands seized her, yanking her up. She flailed, her screams cutting through the heavy night air.
Then she caught a whiff of the man holding her—an unbearable stench of unwashed flesh and dried blood. Her stomach turned, and a wave of nausea drained the fight from her. Her body slumped, her strength leaving her as quickly as Lana had. Satisfied, the man set her down roughly and walked away. She staggered forward, joining the line of women who marched onward, their feet dragging through the dust, their silence heavier than the darkness that surrounded them.
Three days had passed. Three days of hell.
Tade stood in his office, his phone pressed to his ear, his body thrumming with restless energy.
“What’s the update?” he demanded, his voice clipped. His chief security officer’s voice came through, laced with tension.
“It’s all over the news. The women were taken by Boko Haram. They’re being held in Sambisa Forest. The president has vowed action, but you know how these things go.”
Tade clenched his jaw, flipping through news channels. The flickering screen showed sensationalised reports, shaky footage, talking heads spewing government promises. It was all noise, all propaganda. None of it had hastened the rescue of Dunni and the rest of the high-profile women.
A different kind of war was raging beneath the surface.
Information was surfacing about lithium and gold buried beneath the Sambisa Forest. Molade Thomas, the richest woman in Africa, had already set her sights on the land. She had partnered with Senator Isiaku Balla, a man whose interests were as murky as the waters he waded in. To the world, they spoke of conservation, a grand plan to turn the forest into a game reserve. But Tade knew better.
Molade had an instinct for wealth, an almost supernatural ability to sniff out opportunities before anyone else. And if she was interested in Sambisa, it wasn’t for the wildlife.
She had been working her way into Borno for months, weaving a web of influence, waiting for the perfect moment. Now, with the hostage crisis unfolding, she had the perfect excuse to move in. Her trucks, loaded with aid for displaced civilians, were a front. She had already reached out to the army, the police, an independent security agency—offering ‘assistance’ in the rescue mission.
But Tade had heard whispers of another plan. One that would erase Sambisa Forest from existence.
Bello’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We move in tomorrow at midnight. If the hostages aren’t out by then, we bring them out ourselves.”
Tade exhaled slowly, his hands clenching into fists. “Twenty-four hours, MI Bello. Bring her back.”
They were already in the air when Segal’s voice cut through the deafening roar of the chopper’s blades. “Change of plans! New coordinates—Sambisa Forest!”
Moses felt the cold sweat trickling down his spine, soaking into his shirt. His pulse pounded in his ears. Sambisa. The very name was enough to freeze his blood. A place so feared, that even the military hesitated to enter. Whispers of its horrors drifted through barracks and villages alike—dark, dense, a fortress for terror. There was no turning back now. The original destination he thought was supposed to be on the outskirts of Abuja. How had they ended up heading deep into Borno?
His throat went dry as his mind flickered to Dunni. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. She was out there somewhere, and now, they were hurtling toward the belly of the beast.
Segal moved to his side, his face grim. “I’ve been contacted by Andrew Akande. His wife was taken too.” He thrust a phone into Moses’ hands. A picture illuminated the screen—Dunni standing beside a woman he didn’t recognize. The image was taken on the first day of the conference. A sharp twist coiled in his gut. The helplessness gnawed at him. He had to get her out. He had to.
“The husband wants us to rescue her as well,” Segal continued. “And as many of the women as we can. The numbers change the dynamic. It’s Boko Haram. They’re asking for ransom—ten million naira per head and a hundred motorbikes. I’ve called for more men and more resources. We’ll have two bigger helicopters. We move in at midnight tomorrow.”
Dunni’s limbs burned with exhaustion. How long had it been—four, maybe five days? Time blurred together in the endless cycle of movement. They travelled by night and hid by day. The dry, smoky air clung to her skin, mingling with the scent of sweat and fear. Her lips were cracked, her throat raw. Hunger gnawed at her insides. The last thing they had eaten was stale, crumbling bread, its rancid taste still clinging to her tongue. But they had no choice. Strength was a necessity, not a luxury.
She glanced at Lana, her heart tightening. If they weren’t rescued soon, Lana would run out of medication. The consequences were too grim to contemplate.
A voice interrupted her thoughts. “What medication is your friend on?”
Dunni’s head snapped toward the sound. The voice was smooth, impeccable English with the slightest trace of an American accent. She squinted at the man before her, his eyes warm beneath the folds of his turban. Her shock was visceral. The contradiction unsettled her.
“We are not savages,” he said with a chuckle.
Under different circumstances, the joke might have been amusing. But here, surrounded by masked men and the echoes of suffering, it felt absurd.
“No one will be hurt,” he continued. “Those who have been… it was a necessity. To ensure obedience.”
Dunni stared at him. Had she seen him before? The faces around them changed constantly. The men who had captured them were long gone, replaced by new ones. There was no pattern.
“Diabetes,” she finally answered.
She had always believed that a closed mouth led to a closed destiny. Perhaps, just perhaps, this man could help.
“I’m a doctor. Harvard-trained.”
The accent made sense now. But nothing else did.
“Do you still practice?” Her voice held suspicion. If he was a real doctor, what was he doing here? Why was he with them?
“Yes,” he said briskly, then turned, his voice slipping seamlessly into the local dialect as he spoke to the others. Gone was the American twang.
Dunni’s stomach twisted with unease. She watched him blend back into the crowd, his posture no different from the rest. “Did you hear him?” she asked Lana.
Lana barely stirred. Her voice was a whisper. “No.”
Fear spiked through Dunni. “Are you okay?” she asked again, for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I don’t think I’ll make it,” Lana murmured. Her words were fragile, breaking against the heavy air. “Tell my son… I love him. Tell my father… to raise him as his own. With his twins.”
“Stop,” Dunni said fiercely, her hands trembling as she grasped Lana’s frail fingers. “You will make it. You will see your son again. That doctor—he’ll help us.”
“If he’s a doctor, I’m in America right now,” Lana muttered weakly, attempting a joke. She lifted her water gourd, but it was empty.
“I’ll get more.”
Dunni pushed forward toward the men. She held up the gourd in a silent plea. A grunt of acknowledgement, a rough hand snatching it away. “Go. Someone will bring it.”
She hesitated. This group was different. Their garb was just as tattered, their faces just as covered, yet there was an air of refinement. Educated men in the ranks of terror. She returned to Lana, sitting beneath the meagre shade from the mango tree, the heat pressing in on them like a suffocating blanket.
Night fell. They moved again, trudging deeper into the unknown. Dunni’s feet throbbed, her body weak, but she pressed on. They were given stale bread once more. She nibbled half and hid the rest for Lana. They scavenged as they walked—wild berries, bitter fruits, anything to sustain them.
A man approached, a blackened gourd in his hands. “Diabetes.”
Lana eyed the liquid warily. It smelled acrid. But she was too weak to care. If they wanted her dead, they would have killed her already. She drank it in one gulp, wincing at the foul taste.
“What was that?” Dunni asked, noticing Lana’s expression twist in disgust.
“Death potion,” Lana rasped. “To make my passage to the beyond easier.”
“Stop with the jokes!” Dunni snapped, her voice cracking. The fear of losing Lana made her skin prickle, goosebumps rising along her arms. They had only known each other for days, yet their fates were entwined forever. She shuddered at the thought of delivering a message of death to Lana’s family.
“It’s a local remedy,” the man said. “Herbs used for diabetes.”
Dunni narrowed her eyes. “If it works, why isn’t it in hospitals?”
His face darkened. “We don’t value what our ancestors left behind. Western medicine overshadows what is more potent.”
Dunni had no reply. A part of her wondered if he had just handed her friend a death potion.
The wheels of Moses’ plane touched the tarmac in Lagos, screeching against the runway as the plane jolted to a halt. He barely noticed the humid, suffocating air of the city as it surged through the plane’s opened doors. His phone was already in hand, pressed to his ear, his voice taut with urgency. “Ola,” he barked, “any updates?”
Ola’s reply was clipped and tense, words tumbling over static. Segal and his team were closing in, only a few hours behind, but Moses couldn’t afford to wait. Time was a blade at his throat, and Dunni was out there—lost, vulnerable, and in the clutches of God-knows-who.
He shoved his way through the airport terminal, ignoring the crush of people and the cacophony of shouting voices. His cab—hastily hailed when Ola’s driver got stuck in Lagos’ infamous traffic—smelled of stale leather and sweat. The city outside was chaotic: swarming markets, honking horns, the metallic screech of brakes. Moses sat rigid, his heart pounding like a war drum. He’d been running on adrenaline since the distress call, and the edges of his vision were blurring from exhaustion. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
As the cab screeched to a halt in front of the office, he flung a fistful of cash at the driver and bolted inside. The staff greeted him with a mixture of concern and awe—faces that had been colleagues now watched him like a general marching into battle. He barely nodded back, his mind too consumed to acknowledge their strained smiles.
In Ola’s office, the stench of stale coffee and stress hung heavy in the air. The dim light caught the cluttered desk, littered with maps, files, and a half-eaten meat pie. Ola was hunched over his phone, his voice sharp and brittle. When he finally hung up and looked up at Moses, his face was lined with exhaustion.
“I’ve got bad news,” Ola began, his voice low but trembling with frustration. “The tracker Tade gave Dunni? Found. In Nasarawa. Four hours from Abuja. But…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “It was with some random guy who bought it off someone else. A dead end. The federal security’s been no help. Even the president’s speech has done nothing. We’re on our own here.”
Moses’ gut twisted, and he couldn’t breathe for a moment. His hands gripped the edge of Ola’s desk. “Send everything we have to Segal,” he ordered. “He’s landing in three hours. Once he’s here, we move.”
The hours dragged like a slow bleed. By the time Segal and his team arrived, the tension in the room was so thick it seemed to choke the air. Segal was a hulking presence, his piercing eyes sweeping over the gathered intel with practised efficiency. He worked like a machine, dissecting details, issuing orders, and refusing to work with an external party who’d contacted him. “Trust is everything,” Segal growled. “This mission can’t afford leaks.”
Still, despite Segal’s expertise, there was no ransom demand, no claims of responsibility. Theories were swirling like a dark fog, but none felt concrete.
By Day 3, Moses was unravelling. Every passing second felt like a noose tightening around his neck. The air in the office allocated to Segal and his team was suffocating, filled with the hum of computers, the murmur of voices, and the bitter smell of stale coffee. Then, Segal’s team uncovered a faint thread of hope.
“Drone footage picked up a group moving further up north,” Segal announced, his voice crackling with restrained intensity. “Cross-referencing coordinates from the bomb site… This could be it.”
Moses’ heart leapt to his throat as the room erupted into a frenzy of action. The air buzzed with urgency, commands flying back and forth. Maps were marked, and plans laid. He felt like an outsider in the chaos, a spectator to his nightmare. Segal’s glare silenced his questions at one point, and Moses retreated, swallowing his frustration.
Then, Segal’s shout shattered the air: “Matza Otah! Get the helicopter—we’re moving out!”
Moses lunged forward, his voice rising over the chaos. “I’m coming with you.”
Segal turned, his face dark with disapproval. “No,” he snapped. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll slow us down.”
“I’m not staying behind!” Moses roared, his fists clenched. “I can’t sit here waiting for scraps of information while Dunni is out there! I’m coming!”
Segal stared him down, his expression stern and unyielding. Finally, with a grunt, he relented. “Fine. But you stay in the helicopter, wear a vest, and do not step out unless I tell you. Do you understand?”
Moses nodded, his jaw tight. “Let’s go.”
By 1:30 AM on Day 4, the helicopter’s blades roared to life, slicing through the stillness of the night. The cold metal of the bulletproof vest pressed against Moses’ chest, and the thrum of the engines vibrated through his body. Outside, the darkness stretched endlessly, punctuated only by the faint glow of distant fires.
This was it. The rescue was beginning—and failure wasn’t an option.
Dunni and Lana have been holding their hands during the bus ride. They journeyed all day, stopping at intervals for the women to pee. Some were brave enough and escaped in the bushes, but one lady was not too successful, and for the second time in the same day, they encountered another lady shot in cold blood. “anyone who tries escape again will be killed,” he locked his gun, and they shuddered with fear. The bus came to a stop, and they were asleep to file out, being stripped of every form of jewellery they had on them and led into the bush. As they walked, most women had to take off their heeled shoes as it was almost impossible to walk in the forest with them. A cold chill washed over Dunni when the jewellery with the tracking device was taken off her. She hoped the guy taking the jewelries off them stayed with the group, they would be fine. Her hopes were dashed when he returned to the bus, and they watched the bus drive off, killing every hope of being found. “I need to take my diabetes shot,” she heard Lana talking to one of the guys who looked at her blankly. She pointed to her bag, removing the injection and gesturing to her upper left arm. Another guy was screaming to keep moving, but Lana stood her ground and repeated what she said earlier. He nodded. She rolled her sleeve upwards, hitting her arm and administered the dose. “When is the next one, Dunni asked worriedly. “Tomorrow, same time. How many do you have with you? 7 days’ worth. I always carry it in my bag. Dunni did know the obvious show of relief on her face. “We’ll be out before you know it.” She encouraged her friend as they resumed walking, rushed by the guy with them to join the others. Dunni was struggling to remain optimistic. Every iota of hope diminished by every step into the forest.
They had walked for the better part of the day, they were not allowed to rest, Dunni could see the exhaustion on the other womens face giving her a glimpse of what hers looked like. The perfectly made face of some of the women all disappeared beneath a cake of brown powder smeared with sweat, others had trickles of black kohl forming a path below their eyes, nose and disappearing to their chin. Just about that time, Dunni felt she could no longer go on. One of the guys leading them backed the order to stop. They were approaching a settlement, and another town dog hope was rising. This could be their deliverance of escape; instead, everyone did their duties as if they had not noticed the strange entourage arriving, and the women almost dropped due to exhaustion. He gestured with his guns that they should sit, looking around at the bare floor of red sand with no chairs. He backed, “ ku zauna” gesticulating with his gun. The women all sat down while a middle-aged woman from nowhere came up to them with a clay pot of water that she passed to the women, who took sips and passed it to the next, an untold understanding that the water was all they would have and the importance that everyone had some to get their strength back. Dunni looked into the woman’s eyes, wondering whether they could get any help from her. She skirted her eyes above them, looking everywhere but hers. While she was still trying to take in the environment, looking for landmarks to know where they were, another of the men was barking at others to stand up. Dunni wondered what was happening back at home, whether her mum or siblings had heard, she could not entertain the idea that she would not make it back home and choose to keep her hope alive that not matter what they would be found and rescued.
Dunni and Lana held hands tightly during the endless bus ride, their palms slick with sweat but refusing to let go. The bus was packed with fear and silence, interrupted only by the occasional sobs of women who couldn’t mask their despair. The journey stretched through the day, punctuated by hurried stops where the women were ushered out to relieve themselves. Some, driven by desperation and bravery, attempted to slip into the surrounding bushes, hoping for freedom. But freedom came at a cruel price.
The first attempt ended with a gunshot that echoed through the trees. Now, for the second time that day, Dunni saw another woman fall. Her lifeless body crumpled into the dirt as the rest of the women stood frozen in terror.
“Anyone who tries to escape again will be killed,” the man with the gun barked in surprisingly impeccable English, his voice devoid of emotion as he locked the weapon. The metallic click sent a shiver through the group. No one dared to look directly at him, but every head nodded in terrified compliance.
As the bus finally halted again, the women were rudely awakened and ordered to file out. Bleary-eyed and stumbling, they were stripped of their jewellery—rings, necklaces, bracelets—anything that glinted. Dunni felt a cold dread seep into her bones as her bracelet and necklace with the hidden tracking device were taken. Her heart clung to a desperate hope that the man collecting the items would stay with them. But her hope crumbled when he returned to the bus, taking their last tether to the outside world. The bus roared to life and drove off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and despair.
“I need to take my diabetes shot,” Lana’s voice was soft yet firm, addressing one of the armed men. He stared at her blankly, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion. She pointed to her bag and mimed injecting her upper arm. Another man yelled for them to move, but Lana stood her ground. Her unwavering defiance drew a nod of reluctant approval, and she quickly retrieved the syringe, rolling up her sleeve.
Dunni watched as Lana administered the dose, her movements steady despite the palpable tension. “When is the next one?” Dunni whispered, her voice trembling with worry.
“Same time tomorrow,” Lana replied, stuffing the syringe back into her bag. “I have seven days’ worth. I always carry it with me.”
Dunni exhaled, the relief on her face impossible to hide. She squeezed Lana’s hand. “We’ll be out of here before you know it,” she said, her tone resolute even though her heart wavered. Lana nodded, but neither woman fully believed it.
The group was hurried along again, their captors shouting and waving their guns. The forest swallowed them as they trudged forward. For hours, they marched through the unforgiving terrain. The ground was uneven, roots and branches snagging at their feet. Many women abandoned their heeled shoes, walking barefoot despite the sharp stones and thorny underbrush.
Dunni’s legs burned with every step. Exhaustion weighed on her like an anchor, but she forced herself to move. Around her, faces that had been carefully made up now bore streaks of sweat and grime. Tears carved paths through smudged eyeliner, and the forest air clung to them, heavy and oppressive.
Just when she thought she could go no further, a barked order from the front halted their progress. They stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. Ahead, a small settlement came into view. Hope flickered faintly in Dunni’s chest. Perhaps this was a village where they could be helped or at least noticed.
But as they entered the settlement, her heart sank. The villagers moved about their tasks as though the group didn’t exist. Women hauling water pots and men tending to livestock avoided eye contact, their faces carefully blank.
“Ku zauna!” one of the armed men commanded, gesturing with his gun. The women obeyed, sinking onto the bare, sunbaked earth. The red sand clung to their damp skin.
A middle-aged woman emerged from one of the huts, carrying a clay pot of water. She moved silently, passing the pot from one woman to the next. Each woman took a small sip, the unspoken understanding of scarcity preventing anyone from taking more than their share. When the pot reached Dunni, she hesitated, meeting the woman’s eyes. There was something there—sympathy, perhaps—but the woman quickly looked away, her expression hardening.
Dunni’s mind raced as she scanned the settlement. Were there any landmarks or signs showing where they might be? Her thoughts drifted to home—her mother and her siblings. Had they noticed her absence? Had they sounded the alarm? She couldn’t let herself think otherwise.
“Stand up!” a voice barked, dragging her back to the present. The group rose shakily, their bodies protesting every movement. As they were herded further into the forest, Dunni clung to one thought: they would be found. They had to be.
Dunni feels a profound connection with Lana at the leadership conference until chaos erupts from an explosion. They face terrifying uncertainty as masked men take them away, leading to fear and despair.
It was Day 2 of the 21st Century Belle Leadership Conference, and though Dunni had given her presentation on Day 1, she was already counting down the days until she could return home.
The sessions were engaging, and every speaker brought something fresh, real, and relatable, weaving in stories from their own lives that hit home for Dunni. Yet, despite enjoying every moment, she missed the familiar rhythms of Lagos—the sounds, the streets, the comfort of her own space. The conference was thoughtful, with breaks that let her stretch her legs and chat with others, a welcome change from the typical back-to-back presentations that drained you more than they inspired. This one felt human.
She had found an unexpected friend in Lana, a strikingly beautiful woman from Lagos who, like her, had left a young child behind to attend. Lana was magnetic, the kind of woman whose beauty stopped people in their tracks—effortless, commanding attention wherever she went. But it wasn’t her looks that bonded them; it was the immediate sense of kinship, the ease of their connection like they had known each other for years.
As Dunni entered the conference hall, she spotted Lana waving her over, a seat saved with a warm smile. It brought back memories of school days when saving a seat for a friend felt like an unspoken promise of loyalty. She waved back, feeling the comforting embrace of sisterhood. They were in their early thirties now, their lives busy and complicated, but here, in this moment, the connection felt as pure as those simpler days.
Just as Dunni settled into her seat beside Lana, an ear-splitting blast ripped through the hall, shattering the tranquil hum of conversation. The noise was deafening, a sudden explosion of sound that rattled the walls and sent glass raining down like jagged shards of terror. Screams tore through the air, blending with the harsh shatter of windows as the hall erupted into chaos. Dunni’s breath caught in her throat, her heart seizing as a thick cloud of dust surged from the east entrance, swallowing the space where Lana had stood just minutes before.
Time seemed to slow as her mind struggled to process the nightmare unfolding before her. The dust was suffocating, its gritty taste filling her lungs. The cries of the wounded echoed, mingling with desperate shouts for help. She locked eyes with Lana, their shared terror flashing like lightning. They reached for each other, but their hands never met in the madness.
Then, through the choking fog, a group of men stormed in. They moved with a chilling precision, their bodies clad in military camouflage, faces hidden behind masks. The glint of guns in their hands made Dunni’s blood run cold. The panic was overwhelming, a thick, palpable fear that hung like smoke. The men’s voices, calm yet commanding, cut through the cacophony. They ordered the women to stand and leave the hall. They claimed it was for their safety that they were being taken to a safer part of the city.
But Dunni’s gut twisted with doubt. Their tone was too calm, too rehearsed, like a predator lulling its prey. Covered in dust and trembling, she followed Lana as they were herded into a shiny, new 50-seater bus. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of dust and sweat. The rest of the women—those still able to walk—stumbled behind them, the fear etched deep into their faces.
Dunni’s heart raced as the bus doors slammed shut behind them, the sound final, like a trap closing. The distant screams from the hall echoed in her mind, growing faint as the bus pulled away. Her mind spun with a thousand questions. Was this a rescue, or were they walking straight into something far worse? She could feel Lana’s hand brushing against hers, a silent plea for reassurance, but Dunni had none to give. They were now locked in a fate neither could control, hurtling toward the unknown.
As soon as the bus rumbled to life, a tense silence fell over the passengers, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Then, piercing through the stillness, one of the masked men barked an order, his voice sharp as a whip. “Submit your phones!” The demand echoed through the bus, leaving confusion and fear etched on the faces of the women. A murmur of disbelief rippled among them, their wide eyes darting in uncertainty.
One woman hesitated, her hand trembling over her phone. The man’s impatience snapped—without warning, a gunshot rang out, deafening and brutal, slicing through the air like a violent scream. The metallic scent of gunpowder mixed with the acrid stench of sweat and fear. The woman slumped forward, and suddenly, the cold reality crashed down on Dunni with the weight of a thousand stones. This wasn’t a rescue team. They were being kidnapped.
Seated at the very back, Dunni’s pulse pounded in her ears, her heartbeat deafening in the thickening tension. Her hands moved quickly, almost on instinct. Before she could second-guess herself, she sent the emergency code to Ola and Moses, her fingers flying across the screen. The code they had devised for life-or-death situations was simple, but she had never imagined she would need to use it. Yet, despite the terror freezing her bones, she was surprised at how clearly it came to her. A number to press on repeat.
Her fingers shook as she reached for her necklace, feeling its familiar coolness against her skin. It was still there. Relief washed over her, but only for a moment. Her bracelet—she felt for it next. Intact. She turned to Lana, sitting on her left, her eyes wide with fear. Without a word, Dunni slipped the bracelet from her wrist and fastened it onto Lana’s right wrist. Lana stared at her, puzzled, but Dunni’s voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in close.
“For whatever it is worth, don’t take it off until you are safely home.”
Before Lana could respond, the masked man loomed over them. His presence was suffocating, his gaze cold. Without hesitation, he ripped the phones from their hands, his rough touch burning like fire against Dunni’s skin.
As he moved on, Lana’s tears began to fall, slow at first, then unstoppable. Her chest tightened, her breath shaky as her mind spiralled.
“My son…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper beneath the suffocating weight of despair that hung in the air. “He didn’t want me to come.”
Dunni reached out, gently clasping her trembling hands. No words were needed between them. Yesterday, their world had been filled with light—talking, laughing, full of life and possibilities. But now, the silence between them was heavy, thick with fear.
“You will see your son again and hold him in your arms,” she reassured her new friends, even though their grim reality suggested otherwise
21stcenturybelle 