Chapter 10:AFTERMATH
1996 Words
Sirens.
Red and blue.
Painting the white walls.
Painting Elias’s blood.
Painting the bodies on the floor.
The police came fast.
Too fast.
Like someone called them before Vera left.
Elias was still on the floor.
Me holding him.
Gun three feet away.
His hand on my waist.
Not letting go.
“Hands up!”
The door was already broken.
They did not need to knock.
Six men. Vests. Rifles.
Lagos State Police, but not.
Private.
Damian’s.
“Elias Adebayo,” the first one said.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Tunde Akindele and assault with a deadly weapon.”
Tunde.
That was his name.
The man who did not get back up.
Elias did not move.
Did not look at them.
He looked at me.
“Rule 4,” he whispered.
Blood on his lips.
“What is Rule 4?” I asked.
My voice was gone.
“Do not let them take me.”
Then hands were on us.
Pulling.
Ripping him away from me.
Cuffs on his wrists.
On his bad arm.
He hissed.
I screamed.
“His arm is cut!” I shouted.
“You are reopening it!”
No one cared.
One of them shoved me back.
I hit the wall.
Hard.
The air left my lungs.
“Miss, step back.”
Miss.
Not Ava.
Not a person.
Just a witness.
They dragged Elias up.
He stumbled.
Blood on the floor where he had been.
My blood.
His blood.
Our blood.
He found my eyes across the room.
Over guns. Over vests. Over the body of Tunde Akindele.
“I am sorry,” he mouthed.
Then they took him.
---
The apartment was empty in ten minutes.
Empty of Elias.
Empty of Vera.
Full of police tape and camera flashes and questions I could not answer.
“State your name.”
“Ava Daniels.”
“Relationship to the suspect.”
Suspect.
Not Elias.
Not the man who said home.
“Employee.”
It was a lie.
But the truth would get me killed.
“Did you witness the shooting?”
“Yes.”
“Did Elias Adebayo fire first?”
“No.”
That was the truth.
Tunde fired first.
Into the ceiling.
Warning shot.
Elias fired to save me.
They did not write that down.
A woman in a suit came next.
Not police.
Lawyer.
“Mr. Adebayo sent me,” she said.
“Damian?”
“Mr. Damian Adebayo, yes.”
Damian.
The man who fired me to save me.
The man who sent police to arrest the man who saved me.
“Elias is at the station,” she said.
“He will be charged by morning.”
“With what?”
“Murder. Attempted murder. Illegal possession of a firearm.”
“He was defending me.”
“Vera Akindele is saying otherwise.”
Of course she was.
Vera in her red dress.
Telling them Elias attacked her men.
Telling them I was the mistress who started it.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“No.”
“When?”
“After bail. If there is bail.”
If.
The lawyer left her card.
Amaka Okoro.
She did not look at the blood on my shirt.
She did not ask if I was okay.
No one did.
---
I slept in the apartment that night.
If you could call it sleep.
Two bodies had been there.
Now there was just tape.
Yellow.
Saying POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS.
I crossed it.
Sat on the floor.
Where Elias bled.
Where he said Rule 3.
Where he said no one takes you from me.
They took him anyway.
My phone rang at 3:42 AM.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Did you like the show?”
Vera.
Voice like sugar and glass.
“You set him up,” I said.
“I saved him,” she said.
“From you.”
“He is in jail.”
“And alive. For now.”
I closed my eyes.
The sirens were still in my head.
“He told me it is over,” I said.
“Men say things,” she said.
“But prisons change minds. My father owns the warden.”
My stomach dropped.
“He would not—”
“He will. Unless you do what I say.”
“What?”
“Leave Lagos. Tonight. And he walks tomorrow.”
Leave him.
To save him.
Rule 2: Do not answer for anyone but me.
But Elias was not here to answer.
“Why should I trust you?” I asked.
“You should not,” she said.
“But you do not have a choice.”
She hung up.
I stared at the ceiling.
At the bullet hole.
Plaster still on the floor.
Like snow.
Like the first day I met him.
“You are fired,” he had said.
“Then start running,” he had said.
I did not run then.
Would I run now?
---
Morning came ugly.
Lagos news was already playing it.
*ELIAS ADEBAYO ARRESTED: HEIR TO ADEBAYO CORP IN MURDER SCANDAL*
*LOVE TRIANGLE TURNS DEADLY: FIANCÉE VERA AKINDELE SPEAKS OUT*
There she was.
Red dress.
Tears.
Perfect.
“I just want justice for Tunde,” she said to the cameras.
“He was a good man. Elias was like a brother to him.”
Lies.
All of it.
They did not show me.
They did not say my name.
I was the ghost in the story.
The reason.
Not the person.
Damian came at noon.
Not to the apartment.
To the street below.
Black SUV.
Tinted windows.
His driver knocked once.
I opened it.
“Mr. Adebayo will see you now,” he said.
I went.
Damian sat in the back seat.
Suit.
No tie.
Tired eyes.
He looked ten years older than last week.
“You should not be here,” he said.
“You sent the police.”
“I sent lawyers. Vera sent the police.”
I sat across from him.
The leather was cold.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why fire me? Why save me? Why let this happen?”
He looked out the window.
At the building.
At the 12th floor.
At the broken door.
“Because Elias is my son,” he said.
The world stopped.
“What?”
“Not by blood,” he said.
“By choice. I found him at nineteen. In a fight. With my rival’s son. He was winning.”
He smiled.
Sad.
“Vera’s father wanted him dead. I wanted him alive. So I bought his contract. Made him mine.”
His.
Weapon.
Son.
Prisoner.
“The engagement,” I said.
“Was to keep him alive. Akindele would not kill his own son-in-law.”
“And now?”
“Now Elias chose you. And Akindele wants blood.”
He turned to me.
Really looked.
For the first time.
“You love him,” he said.
Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Then leave.”
Vera’s words.
From his mouth.
“He will die if you stay,” Damian said.
“Vera will not stop. Her father will not stop. I cannot stop them.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am not his father. Not really. And the law is not on our side.”
He handed me an envelope.
Thick.
“Passport. Cash. Ticket to London. Tonight.”
I did not take it.
“Elias would not want this,” I said.
“Elias is not thinking,” he said.
“He is bleeding. He is in love. He is stupid.”
He leaned forward.
For the first time, he looked like a father.
Scared.
“Please,” he said.
“Ava. If you love him, go. Let me fix this. Let me get him out.”
I looked at the envelope.
At the ticket.
At my way out.
Then I looked at him.
“No,” I said.
---
I went to the station.
They did not let me in.
I waited six hours.
On the steps.
In the sun.
Amaka Okoro came out at 7 PM.
Face blank.
“Bail is denied,” she said.
“Why?”
“Flight risk. Risk to the Akindele family. Risk to you.”
To me.
They were using me to keep him.
“Can I see him?”
“Five minutes. No touch. No messages.”
Five minutes.
They led me through metal doors.
Through smell.
Bleach and sweat and fear.
Elias was in a glass room.
Orange jumpsuit.
Cuffs.
Bandage gone.
Stitches fresh.
Black eye.
They beat him.
He stood when he saw me.
Fast.
Hit the glass.
“Ava.”
I ran to it.
Put my hand up.
He put his up.
Glass between us.
Always glass.
“Are you okay?” he said.
First thing.
Not him.
Me.
“Are you?” I said.
He smiled.
Broken.
Bloody lip.
“I am better now.”
We had three minutes.
“Vera called,” I said.
“I know.”
“Damian gave me a ticket.”
“I know.”
He knew.
Of course he knew.
Damian told him.
“Are you going?” he asked.
Voice small.
Not Elias Adebayo.
Just Elias.
“No,” I said.
His shoulders dropped.
Relief.
Then fear.
“Ava—”
“No,” I said again.
“I am not leaving. Not without you.”
“Rule 2,” he said.
“Do not answer for me.”
“Rule 3,” I said.
“No one takes you from me.”
He closed his eyes.
Forehead on the glass.
“I will get you killed.”
“Then we die together.”
Guard tapped the window.
Time.
“Elias,” I said.
Fast.
“I love you.”
His eyes flew open.
First time I said it.
First time he heard it.
“Ava—”
“Time!”
They pulled me back.
I fought.
Did not matter.
The last thing I saw was him.
Hand on the glass.
Mouth saying my name.
Then the door closed.
---
I did not go to London.
I did not go home.
I went to Vera.
Her penthouse.
50th floor.
All glass.
All Lagos below us.
She opened the door herself.
Silk robe.
Wine glass.
Not surprised.
“You came,” she said.
“To trade,” I said.
She laughed.
“With what? You have nothing.”
“I have me.”
That stopped her.
“You let Elias go,” I said.
“Charges dropped. Clean record. Free.”
“And?”
“And I leave. Tonight. Forever. You never see me again.”
Vera sipped her wine.
Walked to the window.
Looked down at the city.
At the station where Elias was.
“You really love him,” she said.
Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Enough to disappear?”
“Yes.”
She was quiet for a long time.
Then—
“Deal.”
Just like that.
“Swear,” I said.
“I swear,” she said.
“On my father’s name.”
It was done.
---
I packed one bag.
At the apartment.
The one with the broken door.
The one with his blood on the floor.
I left a note.
On the counter.
Where he made coffee.
*I’m sorry.
I had to.
Rule 4: Don’t let them take me.
So I’m taking me.
For you.
- Ava*
The airport was cold.
London was calling.
Boarding in ten minutes.
My phone rang.
Damian.
“He’s out,” he said.
No hello.
“Charges dropped. Vera pulled them.”
It worked.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Airport.”
“Ava—”
“Tell him I’m sorry.”
I hung up.
Turned the phone off.
Walked to the gate.
“Final call for Flight BA 74 to London.”
I stepped forward.
“Ava!”
I knew that voice.
Broken.
Running.
- Writer
