The rain didn't stop for family.
Not in this city.
Not for the Adeyemis.
Femi stood outside the rusted gate of the old house, his collar turned up against the drizzle.
The smell of wet earth and diesel filled the air — home.
He hadn't been here in two years. Not since the funeral.
He pressed the doorbell once.
No answer.
He knew better — Fikayo never opened the door for ghosts.
So he used his key.
---
The living room looked the same — dusty trophies, faded family photos, a cracked wall clock that still ticked.
Only one thing was new: the sound of jazz drifting from the kitchen.
"Didn't think you'd come back," a voice said.
Femi turned.
Fikayo leaned against the doorway, sleeves rolled up, cigarette between his fingers. He looked older, harder — like life had been punching him and he'd learned to punch back.
"Still smoking," Femi said quietly.
"Still pretending you care," Fikayo shot back.
The words hit harder than the smoke.
---
They sat across from each other, silence stretching like a wire ready to snap.
Femi broke it first. "I'm working a case. Serial killings. The woman leaves a red mark after every—"
"I read the news," Fikayo interrupted. "You're chasing a ghost again."
Femi's jaw tightened. "It's not like last time."
"That's what you said before our father died."
The room went still.
The rain outside grew heavier, almost drowning the memory — but not enough.
---
Their father had been a police officer too.
He died on a case Femi pushed too far — a sting gone wrong.
Fikayo had never forgiven him.
"You think catching this woman will fix it?" Fikayo asked. "You think justice will bring him back?"
Femi's voice cracked just slightly. "I think justice is all I have left."
Fikayo stood, flicked his cigarette into the sink. "Then you've already lost everything that matters."
He turned to leave — but stopped at the doorway.
"You said she leaves a red mark?"
Femi nodded slowly.
Fikayo reached into his pocket, pulled out a small folded photo.
It was taken near the docks. A wall with the same red kiss mark.
Under it — a silhouette. A woman. Watching.
"I saw her," Fikayo said quietly. "Last night."
Femi's heart stopped.
"Where?"
Fikayo met his eyes, and for a moment the brothers weren't enemies — just two men standing at the edge of something dark.
"She was following me," Fikayo said. "And she knew your name."
---
The silence that followed was cold, electric.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Femi looked at the picture again — the red lips, the faint outline, the promise of danger.
"She's drawing closer," he whispered.
Fikayo nodded. "Or maybe… you're the one she's after."