Chapter 8: The Judas Within
1067 Words
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Judas Within
The words refused to leave Zara's mind.
«"One of you cannot be trusted."»
The tiny slip of paper lay on the wooden table like a burning coal. No one spoke. The old monastery library, once filled with peace, suddenly felt like a courtroom where every soul stood accused.
Father Benjamin slowly folded the note.
"It may be a trick."
"Or it may be the truth," Zara replied.
The priest looked into her eyes.
"That is exactly how the Circle operates."
"They never begin by attacking your body."
"They attack your trust."
---
Morning arrived without comfort.
The monks gathered for prayer as they did every dawn. Their voices echoed through the ancient chapel, filling the stone walls with hymns that had survived generations.
Zara tried to pray.
She could not.
Every face she saw became a question.
Who among them was pretending?
Who had delivered the pocket watch?
Who knew they were hiding here?
She hated herself for thinking that way.
Professor Nwoke had written that wickedness often succeeded by turning good people against one another.
Was she already falling into the trap?
---
After breakfast, Father Benjamin led Zara to a forgotten room beneath the monastery.
A heavy wooden door groaned open, revealing shelves covered with dusty journals.
"This room has not been opened in nearly forty years," the priest said.
"It belonged to Brother Matthew."
"The monk Professor Nwoke trusted more than anyone."
On the far wall hung an old painting of Christ washing His disciples' feet.
Beneath it was a single sentence carved into the stone.
«"Love serves. Wicked love controls."»
Zara stopped to read it twice.
"So simple..."
"So true," Father Benjamin whispered.
---
Among the journals, one immediately caught her attention.
Its cover bore no title, only a small hand-drawn circle.
Inside, Brother Matthew had recorded conversations with Professor Nwoke.
One entry stood out.
"Elias asked me today whether Judas betrayed Jesus because he hated Him."
"I answered no."
"Judas believed he was forcing Jesus to reveal His power."
"He convinced himself that betrayal would lead to victory."
"How terrifying," Elias said.
"Even betrayal can disguise itself as love."
Zara slowly closed the journal.
She had never considered Judas Iscariot that way before.
If Brother Matthew was right, Judas did not begin with hatred.
He began with a distorted understanding of love and purpose.
She finally understood why Professor Nwoke had chosen the title of his manuscript.
Love itself was not wicked.
But when truth was abandoned, love could become the most dangerous force on earth.
---
Several hundred kilometres away, Inspector David Eze sat alone in the elegant room where he had been held since the shooting.
The mysterious stranger returned carrying two cups of tea.
"You've had enough time to think."
David ignored the tea.
"My answer hasn't changed."
"You don't even know the question yet."
"I know enough."
The stranger smiled.
"You believe we're monsters."
"Aren't you?"
"No."
"We're realists."
He placed a thick file on the table.
"Read."
David reluctantly opened it.
His face changed almost immediately.
Every page contained confidential police reports.
Corruption cases.
Political assassinations.
Missing evidence.
Names of judges, commissioners, pastors and business executives.
Some had been imprisoned.
Others had become national heroes.
"What is this?" David asked.
"The truth."
David frowned.
"You mean evidence."
"No."
The stranger shook his head.
"Evidence tells you what happened."
"The truth explains why."
He leaned forward.
"Professor Nwoke came close."
"But he never saw the entire picture."
---
Back at the monastery, Zara discovered another envelope hidden inside Brother Matthew's journal.
It was addressed simply:
THE THIRD LESSON
Inside was another case study.
CASE THREE: THE MOTHER WHO COULD NOT LET GO
"Her name was Rebecca."
Rebecca loved her only daughter, Amara, with all her heart.
After losing her husband, she devoted every moment of her life to protecting the girl.
She chose Amara's friends.
She chose her clothes.
She chose her university.
She rejected every young man who showed interest in her daughter.
"No one is good enough."
Years passed.
Amara reached thirty-eight.
She had never married.
She had abandoned her dream of becoming an architect.
She remained in her childhood bedroom because every attempt to leave filled her mother with tears.
When Rebecca fell ill, Amara cared for her faithfully.
On her deathbed, Rebecca whispered,
"Promise me you'll never leave this house."
Amara promised.
She kept the promise.
She died alone twenty-seven years later in the same house.
Professor Nwoke ended the case with words that pierced Zara's heart.
«"Some cages are built with iron bars. Others are built with tears. Both steal freedom."»
Zara wiped away silent tears.
How many parents, she wondered, imprisoned their children without ever intending to?
How many lives had been quietly buried beneath possessive affection?
---
That evening, the monastery bell rang unexpectedly.
One of the monks hurried into the courtyard.
"A visitor has arrived."
Father Benjamin frowned.
"We're closed to visitors."
"He insists he has urgent news."
Moments later, a weary-looking man entered through the gate.
His clothes were dusty from travel.
His beard was overgrown.
His eyes looked haunted.
"I've been looking for Zara Okeke," he said.
"I am Zara."
The man reached into his pocket and produced an old university identity card.
The name read:
Professor Ibrahim Hassan.
Zara's breath caught.
Impossible.
According to Professor Nwoke's diary...
Professor Ibrahim Hassan had died more than twenty years earlier.
The old man looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes.
"They wanted the world to believe I was dead."
He paused, his voice trembling.
"But I escaped."
Father Benjamin stepped backwards in disbelief.
"Elias told me you were gone."
"I was."
The old professor closed his eyes.
"For twenty-three years..."
"I've been hiding."
He looked directly at Zara.
"And now..."
"They know I've come out."
Before anyone could ask another question, the peaceful silence of the monastery shattered.
A powerful explosion ripped through the front gate.
Stone walls cracked.
Glass windows burst inward.
Smoke swallowed the courtyard.
Screams echoed everywhere.
As monks rushed for safety, masked men poured through the broken entrance.
Their leader raised a loudspeaker.
His voice thundered across the monastery.
«"Hand over Professor Ibrahim Hassan... and the journal."»
«"Refuse..."»
«"...and every innocent person here dies."»
Zara's heart pounded.
The sanctuary that had stood untouched for generations had become a battlefield.
And this time...
There was nowhere left to run.
End of Chapter Eight
- Writer
