Lagos Mainland – Tessa's Apartment.
2:14 a.m.
Tessa couldn't sleep.
Not since the night the Red Bishop died.
She wasn't scared. Not of blood.
She was scared of what was changing in her.
She didn't flinch anymore.
Didn't hesitate.
That scared her more than anything Dave had done.
She reached for the old cardboard box under her bed — the one her mother had locked away after her father vanished.
Until now, she'd never opened it.
Inside:
An old camcorder Dusty DV tapes Letters in code A cracked pendant shaped like a chess pawn
She inserted the first tape into the camcorder.
It clicked. Buzzed. Static.
Then a man's voice.
"If you're seeing this… it means I'm gone."
Her father.
"I kept secrets. Dangerous ones. But the worst thing I ever did was trust the Chain. I built a system I thought I could control. I was wrong."
"They don't respect silence… they trade in it."
"And if you're still alive, Tessa — tell no one. Not yet. Not even him."
She paused the video.
Her hands trembled.
"Not even him…"
He meant Dave.
Later that morning – Accra.
Dave sat at a private airport hangar, going over freight manifests.
Thin Ice handed him a folder.
"Ghana crew's in place. But we got word — someone's watching from Abuja. Ex-NIA type. Calls himself 'Ghosthand'."
Dave didn't blink.
"Let him watch. He's late."
Thin Ice raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
Dave nodded.
"You know what people forget? Eyes don't mean power. Information without timing is just noise."
He stood.
"Let him watch. I deal in silence. And silence pays better."
Lagos – Razor's last stronghold.
Empty.
His crew disbanded.
His name now a warning, not a brand.
But in a dirty corner behind the stash room… a voice recorder sat on a crate.
It had recorded everything from Razor's last two weeks — panicked calls, plans, names.
It was supposed to be insurance.
Now?
Someone had picked it up.
Someone who wasn't with Dave.
And they were listening closely.
Back in Accra.
Dave received a sealed envelope delivered to his room — no return name.
Inside:
A single phrase, printed in red ink:
"She knows. But does she trust you?"
No name.
No signature.
Just that.
Dave's face remained stone-cold.
But his chest tightened.
Silence…
…was becoming expensive.
Tessa's Apartment – Next Morning.
She didn't sleep.
The first tape haunted her.
Her father's voice echoed louder than traffic.
She reached into the box and pulled out the second DV tape.
It had no label — just a burn mark at the corner, like someone had tried to destroy it and changed their mind last minute.
She popped it in.
Static.
Then a timestamp: "12/02/09 – Confidential Meeting: Lagos Safehouse."
The screen cleared.
And there he was.
Her father.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
Sitting beside him… laughing, in his early twenties, with dreads and a scar on his cheek —
Young Razor.
And the third person?
A teenage Dave.
Tessa's hand flew to her mouth.
"What the hell..."
On the tape.
Dave looked smaller — but his eyes were the same: calculating, dangerous.
Tessa's father was speaking:
"If we're building the new system, we need someone to inherit it. Someone clean. Razor's a fighter. But Dave…"
He turned to the camera.
"...Dave is a thinker. A ghost. A necessary evil."
Razor didn't like that. It was written all over his face.
And young Dave?
He just sat silently. Watching.
Learning.
Tessa paused the video.
What was this?
Was Dave trained?
Was all of this planned from the beginning?
She grabbed her phone.
Typed a message.
Stopped.
Her fingers hovered.
"Do I trust him?"
She deleted the draft.
Back in Accra.
Dave walked through the port control center like he owned it — because he nearly did.
But inside his burner phone…
That message still lingered:
"She knows. But does she trust you?"
He knew it didn't come from Razor.
It came from someone who knew about the tapes.
Someone who had access to his origin story — the version he never told anyone. Not even Tessa.
And there was only one person alive who could know both: Buchi.
Buchi.
Once Dave's closest friend — until he vanished four years ago after a job in Kenya went sideways.
He was smart. Ruthless.
And ambitious enough to try building his own shadow empire — until the D-Chain blacklisted him.
Now word was… he was back in Nigeria.
And if Buchi was back…
He wasn't coming to talk.
Later that day – Framework hideout, Lagos.
Thin Ice got word from a fixer.
"Sir… a ghost name just reappeared on the darknet.
Alias: 'Monochrome.'
It matches Buchi's old trace."
Dave's face didn't move, but his voice dropped.
"Get everyone offline. Now. No digital traces. He doesn't attack with guns. He attacks with data."
Thin Ice nodded.
"Should we trace him?"
Dave said nothing for a long time.
Then:
"No. Let him come. Let him think he's the wolf."
"We'll remind him I'm the f**king storm."
Port Harcourt – An abandoned radio tower.
Night.
Buchi stood by the shattered control board, lit only by moonlight leaking through a rusted ceiling.
He held a tablet — streaming feeds from four cities.
LagosPort HarcourtAccraJohannesburg
All linked to the Framework.
He smiled.
"Nice system, David. But you forgot the first rule."
He turned to a man tied to a chair.
Red, Dave's old contact. Bloody. Weak. Broken.
"The higher the climb, the more exposed the throat."
Buchi slipped a flash drive into the port.
He was planting a virus — one that wouldn't destroy the Framework, but would do something worse:
Leak its secrets.
Let Dave burn from inside.
Meanwhile – Lagos.
Tessa sat outside her apartment, fingers tapping the table.
She hadn't told Dave about the second tape.
Not yet.
But she'd made a copy.
She kept replaying her father's words in her head:
"Don't tell him. Not yet."
But what if not telling him was what got her killed?
Or worse — what got him killed?
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Message:
"You're the only thread he won't cut. Let's talk."
— Buchi
Same time – Accra.
Dave sat in a low-lit room above a warehouse.
He had no laptop. No Wi-Fi.
Only paper. Only silence.
Thin Ice entered. "We have a problem."
He dropped a newspaper on the table.
Front page: "Anonymous Leak Reveals Multi-City Laundering Ring."
No names.
But the blueprints?
Exact match to the Framework's financial routes.
Dave stared at it.
Didn't blink.
"This wasn't random."
Thin Ice nodded. "It's Buchi, isn't it?"
Dave stood.
"Not yet. But it will be."
In a safe zone in Abuja.
Buchi met Tessa at an old gallery cafe.
No security.
Just him. Just her.
He wore glasses now.
He looked older — but not weaker.
"You think he's honest?" he asked, sipping cold tea.
Tessa didn't answer.
"You ever wonder why your name never appeared in any of Dave's files?"
That caught her attention.
He slid a small flash drive across the table.
"He kept two copies of every person he worked with. One for loyalty. One for leverage."
"Yours? Was marked: 'If she turns.'"
Silence.
Tessa's heart thudded like war drums.
"He's not your protector," Buchi whispered. "He's your prediction."
Back in Accra.
Dave received a voice note.
It was Buchi's voice.
"Tell me, Dave… if the girl had to choose between your empire and your truth, what do you think she'd burn first?"
Dave closed the file.
Stared into the dark.
Then said softly:
"I guess we're about to find out."
Framework Safehouse – Accra.
Thunder cracked outside.
Inside, it was silent.
Dave sat across from Tessa.
No guards. No crew. Just them.
Between them, a flash drive.
The one Buchi gave her.
She hadn't opened it yet.
She wanted to hear Dave speak first.
"You knew my father," she said. "From the beginning. You were part of… whatever that was."
Dave didn't lie.
"Yes. He trained me. He saw something in me I didn't see in myself yet."
"And Razor?"
"He was never supposed to lead. Just muscle. He didn't like that."
"And me?"
Dave looked at her like she was both fire and salvation.
"You were never part of the plan."
Tessa's eyes welled up.
"But you prepared for the day I'd betray you."
Dave hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Because the people who love you… can destroy you the fastest."
Elsewhere – Lagos, Framework Outpost.
Thin Ice paced the room.
"Sir, we've got our first leak casualty. Ghana's West Port accountant is missing. And half a mil just vanished."
Dave's voice crackled over the encrypted line.
"Let it go. Let him think he won."
Thin Ice paused. "You sure?"
"We don't protect rats. We expose them."
He cut the call.
Behind him, Jamzy stood in the shadows.
Gun in hand.
Eyes shaking.
Flashback – Two days earlier.
Jamzy met Buchi in an abandoned parking lot.
He hadn't seen Dave in months.
Buchi opened with one line:
"He forgot you."
Jamzy didn't speak.
"He used you as a shield and now you're in the gutter."
"I can fix that."
He slid the gun across the floor.
"Kill the ghost… become the king."
Now – Present.
Jamzy raised the gun slowly.
Dave didn't turn around.
He just stood there, back facing him, looking over a balcony.
"If you're gonna shoot, shoot."
Silence.
Click.
The gun jammed.
Dave turned slowly.
"He gave you a broken tool."
Jamzy dropped to his knees.
"Bro… I'm sorry. I… I didn't…"
Dave walked up. Took the gun. Tossed it.
Then knelt down.
"You were never the threat. You were the test."
"And you passed. Barely."
Meanwhile – Abuja.
Buchi watched from a satellite feed. Saw the moment Jamzy froze.
He exhaled slowly.
"He's colder than I remembered."
Then he smiled.
"But now it's time for the real move."
He opened a locked folder on his laptop labeled:
"BLACK THREAD – TESSA'S ORIGIN."
And below that, a subfile:
"Project Ravenchild."
Back in Accra – Later that night.
Dave and Tessa sat in silence.
She held the flash drive in her hand.
He looked at her, eyes soft but heavy.
"Whatever you choose to believe… I need you to know, you weren't a mission."
She stood up. Walked to the window.
"Maybe I wasn't."
"But now… I'm part of the war."
She plugged in the flash.
Screen loaded.
Project Ravenchild: Experimental Casefile – 008 – TESSA NYAME.
She gasped.
Dave stood.
"What is that?"
Her eyes locked on the screen.
"My name... my real one… wasn't Tessa."
"It was Ravenchild."