The journey from the humid silence of Agbada-Gana to the industrial roar of Onitsha was a transition from the primordial to the chaotic. If the Delta was the world’s lungs, Onitsha was its heart—a massive, thumping engine of commerce and grit perched on the eastern bank of the Niger River. The heat had climbed to a blistering 36°C, the air thick with the smell of burning refuse, river salt, and the relentless exhaust of thousands of motorbikes weaving through the traffic.
They entered the city not as hunters, but as shadows. Alessandro had traded his tactical gear for a grease-stained mechanic’s jumpsuit, his face shadowed by a low-slung cap. Seraphina sat behind him on a battered motorbike, her face wrapped in a vibrant headscarf that masked her features while allowing her to track the e
