That night, Zainab couldn't sleep.
Every sound felt louder in the silence.
Her own heartbeat echoed in her ears.
The wind brushing against the walls sounded like footsteps.
Every passing shadow made her imagine the worst.
Someone knocking.
Someone breaking in.
Someone pointing a gun at her.
She turned on her mattress, restless, her eyes wide open in the darkness.
The bag lay on the floor.
Silent.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
By the time the clock struck 2 a.m., Zainab couldn't take it anymore.
She sat up.
Her breathing was uneven as she reached for the bag again.
With trembling hands, she opened it and searched carefully, pushing aside the bundles of money until her fingers touched something firm.
A card.
She pulled it out.
It was thick. Expensive. The kind only powerful people used.
Under the dim light, she read the bold inscription:
IBRAHIM DANJUMA
CEO, DANJUMA GROUP
Phone: +234**********
Zainab stared at the number for a long time.
Her fingers shook.
This was it.
The man behind everything.
The man whose name carried fear.
She swallowed hard.
Then reality hit her.
She didn't even have enough airtime.
Her chest tightened.
But she couldn't wait until morning.
This wasn't just about money anymore.
This was someone's life.
Quickly, she reached for her small Nokia phone the one with a cracked screen and checked her balance.
₦40.
Her throat went dry.
It would be enough… for a short call.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she dialed the number.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each second felt like a lifetime.
Then
It connected.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was deep.
Cold.
Controlled.
A voice that carried authority… and something darker beneath it.
Zainab froze.
Her grip tightened on the phone.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
"Who is this?" the voice demanded, sharper this time.
Zainab swallowed hard, forcing her voice out.
"H-hello… sir… p-please…"
Her words trembled.
"My name is Zainab. I… I found something."
There was silence.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind that felt heavy… dangerous.
Then the man spoke again slower now.
"What did you find?"
Zainab's heart pounded violently in her chest.
"A bag sir. A brown travelling bag. It has your company's name inside."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then his voice returned.
Colder.
More alert.
"Where are you?"
Zainab hesitated, fear crawling up her spine.
"I'm… I'm in Anguwan Rimi, sir."
Silence.
Zainab could hear nothing not even his breathing.
Then finally
"Don't move."
Her eyes widened.
"S-sir?"
"Don't move," he repeated, his tone firm and commanding. "Stay exactly where you are."
Zainab's fingers tightened around the phone.
Her heart nearly stopped.
"I'm coming."
The line went dead.
Zainab slowly lowered the phone, staring at it like it might speak again.
Her entire body was shaking.
Ibrahim Danjuma was coming.
To her house.
To her compound.
To her small, broken room.
Fear wrapped tightly around her chest.
She didn't know what to expect.
Was she about to be saved…
Or was she walking straight into something far worse?
Zainab closed her eyes briefly, her breath unsteady.
Because deep down
She knew.
This was only the beginning.