Later that evening, Yvette walked slowly into the living room. Her steps were lighter this time, but there was still something distant about her presence, as though she wasn't fully settled in her own skin.
As she stepped inside, she noticed someone new sitting in the room.
Quin.
Azan looked up immediately the moment Yvette entered. A small smile formed on his face, warm and natural.
"Hey," he greeted softly.
Nicole, who had been nearby, quickly moved toward Yvette with energy that felt almost forced. "What's up, friend? You didn't even come in properly."
Before Yvette could respond, Quin let out a sharp laugh, leaning back with clear disdain.
"Wait... do not tell me Yvette is part of this sleepover," she said, shaking her head. "That
is absolutely unacceptable."
The room went still.
Yvette's expression didn't change much, but her voice came out quiet and firm. "When am I leaving?"
Azan frowned slightly. "I thought you said you were staying till next week."
"No," Yvette replied calmly. "I am leaving tonight."
Azan exhaled through his nose, glancing briefly at Quin before speaking again. "I would have preferred if Quin were the one to leave instead."
Quin straightened instantly, offended. "Azan, your mother invited me here. How exactly am I expected to sleep under the same roof as this... riff-raff?"
Azan's expression hardened. "Quin, have you lost your mind?"
"That is a no," she replied coldly.
Azan shook his head in disbelief. "You are not
normal
Irin, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward with irritation in her voice. "Can you stop behaving as though your head is empty? You have been like this since junior high school."
Quin's eyes flashed with anger. "I will call your mother, Azan. You have been insulting me because of her." She turned sharply and stormed out of the room.
A tense silence followed her exit.
Yvette didn't react to the argument. She simply moved further into the house.
"I will be in the room," she said quietly. "I need to do something."
Azan looked up quickly. "Should I come with you?"
She paused briefly, then glanced at him. "Azan, you are really becoming overwhelming these days."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked away.
Azan remained seated, watching her disappear down the hallway. Then he spoke, more to himself than anyone else.
"She saw something yesterday... something like a nightmare. Maybe it is connected to the last house in this compound. It is huge, and she keeps insisting we leave."
Nicole frowned immediately. "She mentioned my name too. So what exactly are we waiting for?"
Lucas nodded slowly. "She must have seen something serious."
Azan stood up, his expression now focused. "I will investigate it."
At that moment, Yvette returned to the doorway, having overheard the last part.
"No," she said firmly. "It is too dangerous for you to go there."
Azan turned to her immediately. "You went there?"
"Yes," she admitted.
Lucas leaned forward slightly. "Then tell us what you saw."
Yvette shook her head once. "I will not tell you anything unless you agree to get me an apartment far away. Somewhere like Abuja. And Nicole and Irin must come with me. In fact, all of you must come."
Azan frowned. "What do we tell our parents?"
Lucas scoffed lightly. "Are we still children? They cannot control everything we do."
Irin shook her head. "My mother must know before I leave. Otherwise, I would be running away."
Azan exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "I will have to come up with a story for my father."
Nicole nodded quickly. "Same here."
Lucas added, "Same."
Yvette looked between them. "So... where are we going exactly?"
Azan looked up from his phone. "Since we are all considering Abuja, we might as well move to Lagos instead. My father studied there. I told
him I wanted a short vacation with friends, and he said he has a house in Lekki. It is empty, so we can stay there."
Yvette's face changed instantly. "So we are really leaving?"
"Yes," Azan confirmed.
Her expression softened, a small smile breaking through the tension for the first time that day.
Irin frowned slightly. "Why are you so happy about this?"
Nicole blinked. "Do we even know Lagos? Do we know Lekki at all?"
Azan nodded. "We are leaving tomorrow morning by road. I have already spoken to my father's driver in Lagos. He will meet us at the park."
Outside the house, Quin had not left.
She had been listening.
The moment she heard enough, she turned and hurried away.
Her footsteps were quick, purposeful.
She arrived at Mrs Thompson's house without hesitation and entered immediately.
"Mrs Thompson," Quin said sharply. "Your son is planning to run away. And you clearly told me I would be his girlfriend. If he leaves, you lose access to everything."
Mrs Thompson lowered her head slightly, her voice careful. "I am sorry, young mistress. Please tell Red Kite I will correct this mistake. And do not worry... your position is secure. I will speak to him."
Quin's expression remained cold.
"You have twelve hours," she said firmly. "After that, I will decide what happens next."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the house.
And Mrs Thompson stood there in silence... realizing that whatever was about to happen next was already out of her control.
Later in the night
Azan waited until the house finally surrendered to silence. Even the smallest sound—footsteps, whispers, turning in sleep—had faded. Only then did he move.
He slipped out carefully, closing the door behind him without a sound, his breath controlled but uneasy. The night air was cold against his skin, but it did nothing to slow the restless pounding in his chest. Every instinct told him to go back, yet something stronger pushed him forward.
The last building stood ahead like it had been waiting for him.
Dark.
Still.
Unnatural.
Azan paused at the entrance, staring at the door for a long moment. Nothing moved. No sound came from inside. Yet the silence felt wrong—too intentional, like it was hiding something.
He pushed the door open.
It groaned.
Slow. Deep. Almost like a warning.
Azan stepped inside.
Immediately, the air changed.
It was colder here... heavier. His phone light flickered as he raised it, cutting through the darkness in short, unstable beams. Dust floated in the air like it had been disturbed recently. Too recently.
He took one step.
Then another.
Each footstep echoed longer than it should have.
And then he saw it.
A dark stain on the floor.
Thick. Dried. Spreading in a way that made no sense.
Azan stopped instantly.
His throat tightened.
Slowly, his light shifted downward.
Beside the stain—something pale.
Strands of hair.
Long.
Human.
For a moment, everything in him froze. Even his thoughts refused to move.
A faint sound creaked somewhere deeper inside the building.
Azan didn't turn.
He couldn't.
His fingers trembled around the phone as the light shook violently.
Then—
A soft drag of something across the floor.
Behind him.
Azan's breath broke.
Without thinking, he stepped back once... then twice... then turned sharply—
And ran.
The building swallowed the sound of his footsteps as he fled into the night, not once daring to look back.
The next morning arrived too quickly, like the night had not been enough to rest their thoughts.
Everyone was still half-awake when movement began outside the house—bags being lifted, footsteps rushing, voices low with urgency.
They were supposed to leave for Lagos that morning, but something about the air felt unsettled, like the day had already been disturbed before it even began.
Then Yvette's phone rang.
She answered it immediately.
"How may I help you?"
A voice came through, calm and unfamiliar.
"Meet me in the uncompleted building in front of you. You and your female friends. ASAP."
Yvette frowned. "Who is this?"
"You will see when you come."
The call ended.