I woke up to the smell of hot akara.
The room was unfamiliar small, cheap but neat. Just a wooden bed with a thin mattress, a plastic table, and a single chair. Sunlight leaked in through torn curtains, casting dusty beams across the floor. On the table sat a tray with akara and soft bread still steaming. Beside it was a glass of cold zobo, the kind you'd find on street corners in Arewa Heights.
My stomach growled. Loudly.
But I didn't touch the food.
I sat up slowly, wincing. My body ached like I had been tossed around by a trailer, which wasn't too far from what actually happened. My mind was foggy. Last thing I remembered was running no, flying through alleys, Ay screaming my name, the enforcers chasing us, and then… nothing.
Ay.
Where was she?
My heart started to race. I looked around, hoping maybe she'd be in the corner or by the door but nothing. Just silence and the faint humming of a generator somewhere outside.
Who brought me here?
And more importantly why?
I stared at the food again. It looked fresh. Familiar. Too familiar. Like someone knew exactly what I'd eat. Which made it even more suspicious.
I wasn't going to touch it.
Not until I had answers.
The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts.
They were slow but firm, coming closer with each passing second. My fists clenched instinctively. I stood, ready for anything oor at least I told myself I was.
Then the door creaked open.
And I saw him.
Habeeb.
I froze.
My heart slammed against my chest like it was trying to break out. Behind him stood two other individuals one tall and lanky, the other built like he'd swallowed a weight bench.
But I only saw Habeeb.
The last time I saw that face, he was walking away from a trap that nearly ended my life. Now he was standing in front of me like nothing happened.
"Liam," he said, like we were old friends.
My fists moved before my brain did. I lunged at him. He dodged, barely. The tall one stepped in, trying to hold me back, but I fought. I didn't care. Rage boiled over. I needed answers. I needed to do something.
"Liam! Calm down!" Habeeb barked, pinning my arm.
"Why should I?!" I shouted. "Where is Ay? What the hell did you do to me?"
The scuffle lasted a few more seconds before the weight bench guy held me down like I was a toddler. I finally stopped struggling breathing heavily, fury in my eyes.
"I didn't bring you here to fight," Habeeb said, adjusting his collar. "I brought you to meet someone. Our leader."
I laughed bitterly. "And why the hell should I follow you anywhere?"
He didn't answer at first. Just stared at me. Not with guilt. Not with anger. But something else, regret?
"I owe you answers," he said finally. "And you'll get them. But not from me. Come with us."
I hesitated. My body wanted to swing again. But my mind… my mind needed those answers.
"Fine," I muttered, pushing off the wall. "Lead the way."
And just like that, I followed the man who got me into this big mess into the unknown.
We walked through a narrow corridor, dimly lit with old hanging bulbs that flickered like they were on life support. The air smelled of iron and engine oil. I didn't ask questions. My head was still pounding with doubt and fury.
Then we stopped.
Habeeb knocked once. The door opened like it had been expecting us. Inside was a room that looked nothing like the one I woke up in this one was wider, colder, sharper. Maps on the walls. Screens. Devices I couldn't name.
And in the center of it all stood a man.
Broad-shouldered. Calm eyes. A scar beneath his left one. His face… it tugged at something deep in my memory. I knew that face. I just couldn't place it.
"You must be William Akpan" he said.
His voice was deep but smooth, like someone who had seen chaos and learned to speak through it.
"I'm Ogaga-Oghene."
My mind stilled for a second.
The Ogaga-Oghene.
The resistance.
The fire that's been burning beneath Zenith's feet.
"Why do you look familiar?" I muttered without thinking.
He smiled faintly. "You were too young to remember me clearly. But your father and I… we fought the same fight once."
My chest tightened.
"I know you have questions," Ogaga continued, "but first welcome. To the Resistance."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Just those words echoing in my head. Resistance. All the things Steven used to say suddenly didn't sound crazy anymore. They were real. He was right.
My friends.
I turned sharply to Habeeb. "Where are the others?"
He looked down. Jaw clenched. "We couldn't get to them on time… I'm sorry."
My stomach dropped. I gripped the edge of the table beside me. "And Ay? The girl I was with. She helped me escape. You must've seen her."
Habeeb and Ogaga exchanged a look.
"She moved… different," Habeeb said carefully. "During the chase. She wasn't like the rest of us. And… we didn't find her in the wreckage."
"She vanished in the smoke," one of the others added.
I didn't know if I should feel relieved or afraid.
"Who is she to you?" Ogaga asked.
I shook my head. "I… I don't even know."
Ogaga stepped closer. "Then be careful. Friends… aren't always who they seem in this war."
I didn't respond. My mind was spinning again.
Ogaga sighed. "If only your mother had called earlier… we might've been able to stop the ambush and save your friends."
That hit me.
"She tried," I said, my voice low. "I should've trusted her. I should've told her everything earlier."
Habeeb nodded. "We tried everything, Liam. We were almost caught ourselves."
I leaned back, heart heavy.
Somehow, all of this still felt like the beginning.
The next morning, I woke up to the hum of activity. The safehouse felt more alive people moving in and out, hushed arguments over strategies, screens flickering with data I couldn't understand. For the first time in days, I let my shoulders relax. A little.
Habeeb found me nursing a cup of lukewarm zobo. He had that annoying grin like someone who knew something I didn't.
"Come. It's time you met the crew."
I followed him through a side hallway. The door creaked open to a long room that looked like a blend between a tech lab, a gym, and a mechanic's workshop. It smelled like solder, old rubber, and adrenaline.
"This-" Habeeb began, pointing at a skinny guy hunched over three different screens, wires crawling everywhere like spaghetti gone rogue, "-is Sammy. Our tech guru. If anything in this base beeps, lights up, or suddenly starts talking, it's because of him."
Sammy didn't look up. Just raised a hand mid-type and muttered, "Sup."
"Created Eliza," Habeeb added, proudly. "Our AI backbone. That girl sees everything."
"Eliza sees more than you, sef," Sammy smirked, eyes still glued to code. "She even caught you snoring last night."
Habeeb hissed. I laughed for the first time since the crash.
Next, we walked over to a corner that had been turned into a makeshift closet filled with outfits that looked like they were borrowed from ten different spy movies.
Silifa was leaning against the wall, adjusting a belt that had more gadgets than my old apartment had chairs. She looked up and gave a small nod.
"She's our chameleon," Habeeb said, almost reverently. "Silifa can sneak into Zenith's HQ, steal the Emperor's toothbrush, and you won't even know she was there."
Silifa smirked. "That's nothing. I once made a Zenith general think he was talking to his wife for two weeks. Poor man even confessed to cheating."
We all burst into laughter.
Then came Ade. He was sitting cross-legged, fixing what looked like a broken drone using only a nail file and sheer stubbornness.
"Ade can operate any tech you give him old, new, stolen, cursed… doesn't matter."
Ade looked up, scratched his bearded chin, and said, "I once turned a Zenith streetlight into a surveillance camera. With chewing gum and an old PSP battery."
That earned a solid high-five from Sammy.
In the far corner of the room was Ahmed. Shirtless. Sweaty. Throwing powerful punches into a reinforced training dummy that looked like it had already signed its will.
"And that," Habeeb said, gesturing like he was unveiling a new car, "is Ahmed. Kickboxer. Bone breaker. Doesn't talk much but when he does, pray it's not with his fists."
Ahmed paused, turned to me, and nodded once. Then went back to punching like the dummy owed him money.
As I looked around, something settled in my chest. These people—this ragtag team—they were real. Not heroes in capes. Just misfits who'd had enough.
"There are more," Habeeb added, leaning in a little. "People planted inside Zenith. Deep. Only Ogaga knows who they are. Even I don't."
I raised a brow. "Even you?"
He shrugged. "It's safer that way. Less chance of betrayal."
Just then, a small figure walked past us, balancing three cups of steaming coffee on a tray, humming Burna Boy under his breath.
"That's Tunde," Habeeb said. "Don't be fooled, he's a sniper. But also makes the best beans and yam in the base."
I blinked. "Sniper?"
"Yeah. We like our talents with range."
We both laughed.
In that moment, surrounded by chaos, danger, and the most unpredictable team I'd ever met, I did something unexpected—I smiled.