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.”
21stcenturybelle 