Black River: Chapter 7

The sun hung low over Lagos, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly through the bustling city streets. The air was thick with the weight of secrets, conspiracies, and betrayals, and somewhere in the midst of it all, Detective Durojaiye sat hunched over his desk, piecing together the labyrinthine puzzle of The Syndicate.

Durojaiye’s office, usually a chaotic mess of case files and evidence boards, had been transformed into a war room. Red strings connected the faces of politicians, corporate moguls, and criminals alike, with Femi’s mutilated corpse at the center of it all. Each new connection Durojaiye discovered made the picture clearer—the corruption in Lagos ran deeper than he’d ever imagined.

"Olumide's not the king he thinks he is," Durojaiye muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he stared at the board. "He’s just another pawn on The Syndicate’s chessboard."

A knock on the door broke his concentration. It was his partner, Detective Goke, holding a file, his face grave. “You need to see this.”

Durojaiye took the folder, flipping it open to reveal photos of prominent Lagos businessmen and politicians in clandestine meetings. There were also bank records, money laundering transactions, and bribes exchanged for political favors. The paper trail led straight to the upper echelons of power in Lagos.

"They’re all in on it," Goke said quietly, “from the governor’s office down to the police commissioner. Olumide’s just been a convenient tool for them, but now they’ve decided to clean house.”

Durojaiye’s jaw clenched. He had expected corruption, but not at this scale. The Syndicate wasn’t just a criminal organization—it was a network of the city’s elite, controlling everything from the drug trade to construction contracts. The deeper Durojaiye dug, the more dangerous the game became.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of it all pressed down on him. "If we take down Olumide, The Syndicate will just replace him with another puppet."

Goke nodded. "And if we go after The Syndicate directly, we’re dead men."

Across town, Olumide’s empire was crumbling before his eyes. In one of his last remaining strongholds, a warehouse on the outskirts of Lagos, he watched as his men torched crates of illegal arms, drugs, and counterfeit currency. There would be no trail, no evidence left for anyone to use against him.

Jide’s betrayal still burned in his mind. His most trusted lieutenant had been working with The Syndicate, and now Jide was dead, his mutilated body a stark reminder of what awaited anyone who crossed the shadowy organization. But Olumide wasn’t just going to wait for The Syndicate to destroy him. He was going to burn down everything they’d built, starting with his own empire.

“Burn it all,” Olumide growled to Bode, his remaining enforcer. “I don’t want a trace of anything left behind.”

Bode hesitated for a moment, his face pale. “Boss, what about the loyal men? The ones who’ve been with you since day one?”

Olumide’s eyes flickered with anger. “Loyal? There’s no such thing as loyalty anymore. Not after Jide. Not after what Femi found.”

Bode nodded, but there was fear in his eyes. Olumide saw it—he could smell the betrayal coming. He didn’t trust anyone anymore. Not even Bode.

As the flames engulfed the warehouse, Olumide turned his thoughts to Taiwo. The ghost from his past had returned to haunt him, pulling strings that Olumide hadn’t even known existed. But he was close—so close to finding Taiwo and ending this nightmare.

At the same time, Durojaiye was also closing in on Taiwo. The anonymous informant from the abandoned warehouse had provided crucial details about The Syndicate’s operations, but Taiwo remained an enigma. Durojaiye had spent the better part of the day following leads, piecing together Taiwo’s history—he was more than just an enforcer for The Syndicate. He had a personal vendetta against Olumide, a vendetta that went back years.

“Boss, you’re gonna want to see this,” Goke called from across the room. He had pulled up a CCTV feed from a hotel in Victoria Island.

On the screen, Durojaiye saw Olumide, moving swiftly through the lobby. It was timestamped less than an hour ago. And then, just before the footage cut off, a figure slipped into frame—Bode, Olumide’s right-hand man, entering through the back door.

Durojaiye’s stomach tightened. "What the hell is Bode doing meeting with Olumide? I thought Olumide was hunting traitors."

A gnawing suspicion crept into his mind. “Get the car. We need to move, now."

Olumide paced the length of the darkened warehouse, his mind spinning with thoughts of betrayal and vengeance. He had set a trap for the final traitor, ready to expose the last piece of The Syndicate’s plot against him.

He had made sure to leak false information to draw out the mole, certain that they’d show their hand tonight. And now, in the dim glow of the warehouse lights, Olumide waited, gun in hand.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the space. Olumide’s grip tightened around the handle of his pistol. He stepped forward, shadows dancing across the concrete floor as the figure emerged from the darkness.

It was Bode.

Olumide’s heart sank, a bitter taste filling his mouth. “You?” His voice was low, trembling with fury.

Bode didn’t meet his eyes. “Boss… I didn’t have a choice.”

Olumide raised the gun, his hand steady despite the rage coursing through him. “You betrayed me?”

“They have my family,” Bode said, his voice breaking. “The Syndicate—they promised to let them go if I helped them. I didn’t want to—”

“Didn’t want to?” Olumide’s voice grew louder, echoing off the warehouse walls. “Femi’s dead. Jide’s dead. My empire is crumbling because of you.”

Bode dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t want this.”

Olumide’s finger hovered over the trigger, every instinct screaming at him to pull it. But in that moment, he saw the truth in Bode’s eyes—the fear, the desperation. He had been forced into this betrayal, just as Jide had been.

The sound of sirens pierced the air outside. Olumide cursed under his breath. “They’re coming.”

Bode looked up at him, pleading. “Let me make it right. Let me help you take down The Syndicate.”

Olumide lowered the gun, but his voice was cold. “You don’t deserve my trust. But if we’re going to survive this, we have to move now.”

The two men stood in tense silence for a moment before Olumide turned toward the exit. “Let’s finish this.”