Cub: Chapter 5

The world seemed to slow to a crawl as Kayode Ojo stood in the doorway of the small, dimly lit room where he had been led. His eyes were fixed on the lifeless body of his daughter, Morayo, lying on a cold, metal table. The once vibrant light in her eyes had been extinguished, her face pale and still. Kayode could barely comprehend what he was seeing, the reality of it too devastating to fully absorb.

Morayo, his beloved daughter, was gone.

Kayode staggered forward, his knees buckling beneath him. He reached out with trembling hands, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Morayo… my baby…" he whispered, his voice cracking with grief. But no matter how much he willed it, she would not wake up. She was gone, taken from him in the most brutal way possible.

Everything he had done, every measure he had taken to protect her, had been in vain. The image of Morayo’s lifeless body burned into his mind, searing with a pain that was too deep to bear. The weight of his grief threatened to crush him, but as the seconds ticked by, that grief began to transform into something else—rage.

Kayode's breath quickened, his hands clenching into fists. Someone had done this to his daughter. Someone had taken her from him, and that someone would pay.

"Demola," he whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. The boy who had wormed his way into Morayo's life, the boy who had led her down this path. Kayode’s love for his daughter had turned into a burning need for vengeance, a desire to make Demola suffer for what he had done.

Without another word, Kayode turned and stormed out of the room, his mind set on one thing: finding Demola. He would track that boy down, and when he found him, he would make him pay for what he had done. There was no going back now—he had nothing left to lose.

When Kayode arrived home, his movements were mechanical and cold. He went straight to his bedroom, where he retrieved his old service gun from the back of the closet. He hadn’t touched it in years, but now, it felt right in his hands, like an extension of his own rage.

As he loaded the gun, his thoughts turned to Demola. The boy had to be running, knowing that Kayode would come for him. But Demola didn’t know who he was dealing with. Kayode was no ordinary father; he was a trained officer, skilled in tracking and hunting. He would find Demola, no matter where he hid, and when he did, there would be no mercy.

Meanwhile, Demola was a wreck. After fleeing the scene, he had gone home, his mind racing with panic. He knew Kayode would come after him, and he didn’t stand a chance against a man like that. The only option was to leave—disappear into the city, where Kayode couldn’t find him. But even as he packed his bag, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. No matter where he went, Kayode would hunt him down.

Demola’s heart pounded as he grabbed the essentials, throwing them into a bag with trembling hands. He knew he had to move quickly—every second he spent here was a second closer to Kayode finding him. With one last glance at the small house he called home, he stepped out into the night, determined to disappear into the labyrinth of Lagos, where he could lose himself in the crowds and chaos.

But Kayode was relentless. With every connection he had, every skill he’d honed over years as a police officer, he pursued Demola with the cold precision of a predator. He questioned people, tracked movements, and followed the trail of fear that Demola left in his wake. His determination was fueled by the image of Morayo, lifeless on that table, and the knowledge that the boy responsible was still out there.

Demola’s journey to Lagos was filled with anxiety and desperation. Every time he looked over his shoulder, he expected to see Kayode, gun in hand, ready to end him. But there was no turning back. He had to keep moving, keep running, because he knew that Kayode was coming for him, and when he caught up, there would be no escape.

As Demola reached the outskirts of Lagos, the sprawling city loomed before him like a jungle of concrete and steel, offering both anonymity and danger. He blended into the crowds, but the fear in his heart never faded. He knew Kayode was out there, closing in with every passing moment.

Kayode, hot on his trail, left a path of destruction in his wake. Those who stood in his way, those who hesitated to give him the information he sought, were met with the full force of his wrath. He was a man possessed, driven by the need to avenge his daughter, and nothing would stop him.

As the night descended over Lagos, both men were locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse, with one seeking to escape and the other determined to destroy. Demola had managed to buy himself some time, but he knew that the end was near. And as Kayode closed in, the city itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable collision that would shatter everything in its path.