CHAPTER 16
The moment the wheels touched down at Murtala Muhammed Airport, I felt it—the rush, the chaos, the raw pulse of a city. Port Harcourt had been a refuge, Abuja a showdown, but Lagos… Lagos was where I want to make my mark. This was where power was forged, not handed down.
The ride from the airport to Victoria Island was thick with congestion—the kind I secretly liked. The horns, the vendors darting in and out of the highway, the rich and poor pressed together in a riotous mosaic. The city glimmered in the rain-soaked streets, reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors in the puddles. I turned up the volume on the song playing quietly in the back seat, letting the bass seep into my veins. This was my moment. I was going to conquer this city on my own terms.
I hadn’t come back quietly.
