Kicking and Screaming (Literally)

Goddamn it! I was cursed!

How had it taken me this long to realize my luck was so rotten? Not just bad, but astronomically awful—the kind of luck that made even the unluckiest person look blessed in comparison. And somehow, it had latched onto me—me—this queen!

What were the odds? The first solid lead in my case, and he drops dead the very next day. The next day!

There was no logical explanation, no theory to debate.

Something cursed me.

And now? Everything was in shambles before it even began. My so-called team? Bailing. Off on some stupid vacation while I was spiraling into madness!

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" I shouted, kicking my boots against the wine bar. My gaze flicked to the towering shelves of champagne bottles lining the walls, and suddenly, I really wanted to smash something.

"Miss," Mr. Adams' hesitant voice came from behind. "Please don't hurt yourself."

I clenched my fists.

"Shut up!" I snapped.

He flinched and wisely shut his mouth.

"Get a priest. And some holy water. We're breaking this curse."

"Miss, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this. We don't have to take things this far—"

I narrowed my eyes. "Have I gone soft?"

"I'll get the priest right away," he said, phone already pressed to his ear as he hurried out of the wine house.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" I screamed again, resuming my assault on the poor bar.

A nervous voice piped up from the doorway. "Miss, your friends Aisha and Obinna are here to see you."

I grimaced. Those deserters.

They had abandoned me. Betrayed me. Now, they had the audacity to show up?

Before I could respond, they walked in. How could I have forgotten? They never waited for permission.

I do have a sense of privacy, you know.

I must have looked like a mess—hair stuck to my face, legs sore, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin. But Aisha and Obinna had seen me in worse states.

They didn't look surprised.

They looked like they expected it.

And that was infuriating.

Obinna tilted his head, muttered something under his breath, and—ignored me. The bastard walked straight to the wine cabinet, scanning the bottles like he'd found the gates of heaven.

Oh, so wine was more important than me now?

Aisha, on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow before shifting her gaze between me and the bar. Her eyes widened in realization, then she schooled her expression into one of complete calm.

"Since you're exercising," she said, stepping forward, "let me join you."

She kicked the marble slab.

"Let's see who hits harder."

I narrowed my eyes. "Stop mocking me, bitch."

"It's hard not to." She smirked. "You look cute when you're mad."

"Shut up, bitch!" I yelled, kicking the bar harder.

She kicked again. And again. Soon, our kicks formed a rhythmic beat against the bar, and despite myself, I giggled.

Then I laughed.

And Aisha laughed with me.

By the time we settled down, my chest felt lighter. But I wasn't done yet.

"Where the hell have you two been?" I asked, leveling Aisha with a glare.

"Didn't Luke and Matthew tell you?" she replied, resting her elbow on the bar, pretending to inspect her nails.

Classic Aisha.

"They lied," I said simply.

"And how would you know that?"

"Luke mumbles nonsense at the end of his sentences when he lies. Matthew suddenly gets 'busy' to avoid making eye contact. And you?" I narrowed my eyes. "Whenever you lie, you study your fingers—like you're doing now."

Aisha met my gaze, and for a moment, it felt like sparks flew.

"Let's have a drink," Obinna's voice broke the tension.

He placed three tumblers on the bar, pouring golden champagne into each. The liquid shimmered under the dim lighting.

I exhaled, giving up on pressing Aisha for now. Taking a glass, I sipped. The rich, strong flavor hit my tongue, cooling the fire in my chest.

Obinna sipped his own drink, eyes locked onto mine.

I smiled. He always knew exactly when to hand me a drink before I completely lost it.

"Thanks, Obi," I muttered, leaning against the bar. "Unlike some people, you actually care about my mental health."

Aisha scoffed. "You've never been mentally healthy. Stop giving yourself too much credit."

I shot her a glare. "Who asked for your opinion, bitch?"

"Alright, enough," Obinna groaned, rubbing his temples. "You two act like children."

"But I'm older than you," I reminded him smugly, puffing up with pride.

Obinna raised an eyebrow. "And I'm taller than you. Don't make yourself seem even shorter by bringing up your age."

I twitched.

Behind me, Aisha burst into giggles, nearly spilling her drink on the floor.

"You meanie!" I shouted, stomping my boots on Obinna's foot before punching his chest. "Jerk! Asshole! I hate you!"

He just laughed, catching me by the waist and pulling me away like I was a little kid throwing a tantrum.

I was really starting to get pissed. Why does everyone laugh when I hit them?!

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said, fixing his ruffled clothes. "You're still sixteen. If you're lucky, you might grow a few more inches before your birthday."

I scowled. Did he have to say that now? I had just been lamenting my horrible luck, and now he was here rubbing salt in the wound. A bad omen. I could feel it.

Shoving the thought aside, I refocused on the real issue. "Where did you two go?" I demanded. "Luke and Matthew said you were working on some essay, but don't try to feed me that crap. If they know exactly what you guys were doing, then I should too. It's not a secret, right?"

Aisha and Obinna exchanged glances.

Then, they both started laughing.

I sighed, already exhausted. "Are you two done?" I asked flatly. "Or is there something hilarious on my face?"

I already knew their answer: how funny it was to see me act so curious.

But Aisha and Obinna knew when to quit. Eventually, Aisha gave me a resigned smile.

"We were out investigating the case," she admitted. "Matthew and Luke didn't want to make you worry."

I frowned. "But the old man is dead. What leads could you possibly have?"

"Matthew talked to him before he was murdered," Obinna explained quickly. "Apparently, the guy rambled about his life story—boring as hell, by the way—but then he mentioned an African politician named Alex Voss. And get this—by some weird coincidence, that's the guy who sent Cyprian the video. After that, Matthew left things to us."

I took a moment to process that.

Wait.

Does this mean I'm NOT cursed?

Oh, holy moly. I had good luck after all!

My excitement shot up. "Did you guys find anything about him?"

Obinna grinned. "We did. We planted a spy on his estate. Aisha and I went to meet our informant, who just wrapped up the mission today. I know you said we couldn't involve anyone else, but there was no other way around it."

I paused, my mind clicking through the details.

"So what did the spy find out," I asked.

Something didn't quite add up.

Matthew was not the type to hand over loose ends. If he wanted a spy, he would've handled it himself instead of dumping it on Obinna and Aisha. Also, the spy had just been planted—way too soon to gather any real intel. Unless this spy was a damn prodigy.

And why did both of them need to meet the spy? One of them could've gone while the other stayed behind.

Maybe they believed in that "two heads are better than one" nonsense.

Aisha sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "That's the problem. It's a big mess. The only thing I can say for sure is that it's bigger than we thought."

"Start slow," I said.

She took a deep breath. "African politics has been completely infiltrated by an organization called the Obsidian Pact—a global alliance of nations. Their motives? Their true identity? Completely unknown."

I frowned. "And this has what to do with anything?"

Obinna gave me a knowing smile. "The video may have been manufactured—not by random hackers, but by the Obsidian Pact. They control political influence behind the scenes. Every African nation has a delegate—a middleman who operates on their behalf. According to our informant, the delegate for Nigeria is the one who delivered the video that started this whole mess."

My blood turned to fire.

"So you're telling me," I said, voice trembling with fury, "that the very countries itching to fight my family over some dumb joke… might be the ones who orchestrated the joke just to have an excuse to attack us?"

"They need a moral high ground," Aisha murmured, sipping her champagne. "If public opinion is on their side, everything becomes easier for them."

Oh, hell no.

I laughed—a hollow, shaky sound. Anger was crawling under my skin, begging to explode.

"Well, damn," I said, forcing a grin. "I guess we just need to destroy that excuse, then. We need to find that delegate."

"Later," Obinna yawned. "Aisha and I need sleep, honey."

Guilt pricked at me. I'd been so caught up in my rage that I forgot how hard they'd been working.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm burdening you all with my problems."

Aisha wrapped her arms around me from behind, snuggling like a sleepy child. "Just promise you'll hug me every day."

"Whatever," I grumbled.

We both laughed, while Obinna gave a weak smile, rubbing his tired eyes. Yawning, he turned for the door.

"Hell, dude, where are you going?" I called.

"To get some sleep, woman."

"Wait up," I said, dragging Aisha with me as we followed him.

But before we could step into the living area—

Mr. Adams walked in.

And behind him? A man in priest robes, carrying a plastic jug of water.

The three of us froze.

Mr. Adams, slightly out of breath, looked at me with total sincerity.

"I got the priest to remove your curse, Miss," he announced, breathing heavily.

My soul left my body.

The curse.

Oh, God.

I cleared my throat, struggling to save face. "Curse? What curse? Adams, you must be overworking yourself. Making up stories in your head."

Before Aisha and Obinna could say anything, I grabbed both of them by the wrists and dragged them out of there.

The last thing I saw was Mr. Adams' heartbroken expression as he watched me go—his eyes full of betrayal, like a man seconds away from bursting into tears.