The silver key sat on the detonator box like a taunt, the embossed logo of Oshodi Peak Studios glinting under the harsh emergency lights of the bunker. I picked it up, the metal still cold despite the sweltering heat of the fuel room. Dax stood beside me, his breathing heavy, his gaze fixed on the small object in my palm. We both knew what it represented: a move off the domestic map and into a territory where the Iron Wolves had no patches, no allies, and no safety net.
"Nigeria," Dax muttered, wiping a streak of oil and blood from his forehead. "Thorne’s reach was wider than we thought. He wasn't just selling to the highest bidder; he was offshoring the entire production. If she’s heading to Lagos, she’s heading to the one place where a private conglomerate can disappear a bike and a gir
