The Party Incident
1178 Words
By Friday night, Amara had made a dangerous decision.
She was going out.
Not because she wanted chaos.
But because Zara had practically threatened her with emotional blackmail.
“You cannot be a hundred level student and be behaving like a retired widow,” Zara had said, pulling her out of her room.
Amara sighed for the tenth time. “I just don’t like loud places.”
“That’s because you’ve never healed in noise.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you stop thinking too much.”
And that was how Amara ended up at a crowded hostel party inside University of Lagos.
The place was already overflowing.
Music vibrating through the walls.
Lights flashing in chaotic colors.
Laughter mixing with alcohol-fueled shouting.
Amara immediately regretted everything.
“This is a mistake,” she said.
Zara handed her a drink. “Everything fun starts as a mistake.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You will.”
Amara barely took two steps before she felt it—
Eyes.
Too many eyes.
Watching.
Not admiring.
Not friendly.
Something else.
Zara noticed instantly. “Ignore them.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
Amara tightened her grip on her cup.
Something about this place felt off.
Not just loud.
Not just crowded.
Off.
The first twist came quickly.
A guy bumped into her.
Hard.
“Sorry,” he said—but didn’t move away.
Amara frowned. “It’s fine.”
But he didn’t leave.
Instead, he smiled.
Too slow.
Too confident.
“You’re Amara, right?”
Amara froze slightly.
“…Yes?”
The guy nodded like that confirmed something.
“I’ve been told to find you.”
Zara stepped forward instantly. “Excuse me?”
The guy ignored her.
“I just need you to come with me for a second.”
Amara stepped back slightly. “I don’t know you.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
That line alone made Amara’s stomach tighten.
Zara grabbed Amara’s arm. “We’re leaving.”
But the guy blocked them.
And suddenly—
More guys appeared nearby.
Not dancing.
Not drinking.
Just watching.
Amara’s heartbeat spiked.
“What is going on?” she whispered.
Zara’s voice dropped. “This is not normal.”
The guy reached for her wrist.
“Don’t make this difficult—”
A glass shattered somewhere in the room.
Silence followed instantly.
Not gradual.
Immediate.
The music didn’t even stop first.
The atmosphere did.
Every head turned toward the entrance.
Amara felt it before she saw it.
The shift.
The drop in energy.
The fear.
Zara whispered one word.
“…No.”
Amara turned slowly.
And saw him.
Damien Russo.
Standing at the entrance like the room belonged to him.
Still.
Silent.
No expression.
But everything inside the room reacted to him like he was a warning siren.
People moved aside instantly.
The guy holding Amara’s wrist froze.
Amara didn’t breathe properly.
Damien walked in slowly.
Each step quiet.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
The room got quieter with every step he took.
Until only silence remained.
He stopped in front of them.
No greeting.
No acknowledgment of anyone else.
Only Amara.
Then the guy.
Damien’s eyes dropped to Amara’s wrist.
Still being held.
Then back to the guy.
That was all.
The guy immediately let go.
Like his hand had been burned.
“I—I didn’t know she was with you,” he stammered.
Silence.
Damien tilted his head slightly.
“I didn’t say she was.”
The calmness made it worse.
The guy swallowed hard. “It’s just a misunderstanding—”
Damien stepped closer.
The guy stepped back instantly.
Amara’s heart was racing now.
This was different from the first time.
This wasn’t coincidence anymore.
Damien spoke softly.
“You touched her.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a fact.
The guy forced a nervous laugh. “It’s nothing serious—”
That was the mistake.
Damien moved.
Fast.
Clean.
A single strike.
The guy crashed into the wall.
Gasps erupted instantly.
Someone screamed.
Someone dropped their phone.
Amara froze completely.
Not because of violence.
But because of how controlled it was.
Damien didn’t look angry.
He looked… certain.
Like the outcome was already decided.
He turned back to the guy slowly.
“Learn boundaries,” he said calmly.
Silence.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Even the music stayed off.
Zara grabbed Amara immediately. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Amara didn’t resist.
She couldn’t.
Her mind was stuck.
They pushed through the crowd quickly.
Outside, the night air hit sharply.
Amara stopped walking.
Her hands were shaking slightly.
“I didn’t ask for that,” she whispered.
Zara turned instantly. “That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
Zara hesitated.
Then—
“That man didn’t come here by accident.”
Amara frowned. “What does that mean?”
Zara lowered her voice. “He wasn’t at a party. He was at a target location.”
Amara’s stomach dropped slightly.
“…Target?”
Zara nodded slowly. “That guy didn’t just randomly approach you.”
Silence.
Amara turned sharply. “So what are you saying?”
Zara swallowed.
“I think someone sent him.”
Before Amara could respond—
A black car rolled slowly to a stop nearby.
Window lowering.
Damien inside.
Watching them.
Amara’s breath caught slightly.
Again.
Damien stepped out this time.
Calm.
Like nothing had happened inside.
His eyes briefly checked Amara.
Then the surrounding area.
Then the crowd behind them.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Amara blinked. “No.”
Silence.
Zara crossed her arms. “Why are you always around when chaos happens?”
Damien looked at her briefly.
Just briefly.
Then ignored her completely.
His focus returned to Amara.
“You shouldn’t have stayed there.”
Amara frowned. “I didn’t ask you to fight anyone.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he said.
That sentence made her pause.
Something about it felt… incomplete.
Like a half-truth.
Zara scoffed. “Right.”
Damien didn’t respond.
Instead, he took one step closer to Amara.
His voice lowered slightly.
“You were being watched.”
Amara froze.
“…What?”
Damien’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Tonight wasn’t random.”
Silence.
The wind moved between them.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Amara swallowed. “By who?”
Damien didn’t answer immediately.
That alone was enough.
Finally—
“I don’t know yet.”
That was worse.
Later that night, Damien stood alone on a rooftop.
Phone in hand.
A voice came through.
“They confirmed it, boss. He was hired.”
Silence.
Damien’s jaw tightened slightly.
“By who?”
A pause.
“…We’re still tracing it.”
Damien looked out into the city lights.
Quiet.
Controlled.
But something inside him had shifted.
Because this was no longer just observation.
No longer coincidence.
Amara Okafor was no longer simply someone he was watching.
She was now someone being targeted.
And Damien Russo didn’t allow things he considered his responsibility…
to be touched twice.
- Writer
