The Alpha in my Pool

CHAPTER EIGHT - WHAT'S WITH THE TRAFFIC

MIN HO

THIRD MAINLAND BRIDGE Lagos

5:00pm

The first thing I notice about Lagos is the energy. The second thing is the traffic. The third thing is that I’m definitely going to die in a traffic accident. I’ve been here for three hours. This s**t is getting very annoying. I loosen my tie to stop myself from suffocating. The AC is on full blast, but the Lagos heat doesn’t seem to give a s**t. I inhale, trying to gather my thoughts. They traced the mysterious phone call to Lagos. How the f**k did they get him to a whole different city in a whole different country with no one knowing? Not even Interpol. I decided to go without an extraction team because nothing is certain yet. It could be a dead end, but I’m really hoping it’s not. I have to keep things contained. If it gets out that Seok Joon is missing, stock prices will crash and I can’t let that happen. Also, my best friend could get killed. I also cannot let that happen. My car swerves, and that breaks me out of my thoughts. The car is finally moving. Thank God. I grip my seat. The car comes to a stop.

“Have we arrived?”

The driver stares into the rear-view mirror.

“No sir. Traffic.”

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I look out the window. The city stretches endlessly.

Lights.

People.

Music.

Life.

It’s different. Completely different from Seoul. Different from Paris. Different from anything I’ve expected. But it’s beautiful. Breath-taking, really. My phone buzzed—an update from the security team.

Nothing useful.

Still no answers.

Only the certainty that Seok Joon is somewhere in Nigeria.

ONE HOUR LATER

I find myself standing outside a surprisingly huge store.

The sign above the door reads:

Osun's Heart and Soul

Interesting.

Very interesting.

The shop looks peaceful. Warm.

Inviting. Not exactly the type of place someone would be held captive.

Then again —

Not everything is as it seems. I push the door open. A bell above the shop door chimes. The scent hits me first. Lavender. Cinnamon. Something earthy. Something comforting. The woman behind the counter doesn’t look up, but I scan enough of her features to know she’s beautiful. Very beautiful. Her neck is adorned with gold. Her skin is a glowing deep brown. Her hair is held up in a silver sequin head wrap that matches her top. She looks like she just stepped out of a painting. She’s arranging jars on a green shelf etched with intricate carvings of mermaids. I have to remind myself to catch my breath.

“Welcome to Osun'S Heart and Soul.”

Her voice is beautiful and distracted.

“You are free to look around.”

I don’t move.

The woman continues arranging jars on the shelf. Still not looking up.

“Everything is handmade.”

Silence.

“We have soaps.”

Silence.

“Teas.”

Silence.

“Essential oils.”

Silence.

Now she looks up.

And immediately frowns.