The Fallout of Resolve

Chapter 65: The Fallout of Resolve

Ms. Anderson's face tightened, her lips thinning to a barely visible line. She exhaled sharply, her eyes never leaving Bayo's. The scent of stale coffee and chalk dust hung in the air, a reminder of countless academic battles fought in this very office. "Very well," she said, her voice low and taut. "I accept your wager." The unspoken promise of consequences hung heavy between them, as tangible as the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

Bayo stood his ground, meeting her gaze with quiet determination. The birthmark on his chest tingled, a subtle reminder of the supernatural forces at play in his life. "Mo dupe, Ms. Anderson," he said, unconsciously slipping into Yoruba. "Thank you."