THE TWO NAMES SHE NEVER SPOKE

Zainab couldn't sleep.

The red diary lay open before her on the hotel bed, its spine tired, its pages bent and blistered like a soul that had seen too much.

Two names.No photos.No history online.Just codenames whispered in Dapo's voice on an old tape:

"The Raven handles the finance.The Jackal clears the dirt."

Zainab had circled them with a trembling pen:"RAVEN""JACKAL"

She didn't need to guess their power.If Dapo had bowed to them… they were monsters.

Fatiha had long since dozed off on the couch, phone in hand, TikTok still playing.

But Zainab remained wide awake.

Something deep inside her whispered:"These two are the real beginning."

Morning. 6:43 AM.

She left the hotel in disguise—an oversized hoodie, dark sunglasses, and face mask.Obi drove. No words.

Destination: a tiny café in Yaba.Meeting: a retired EFCC operative named Alhaji Raji, the one who gave Obi his second chance years ago.

Inside the café, they sat in a dark booth tucked away at the back.

Alhaji Raji didn't smile. Didn't blink much either.

"You should've stayed hidden," he said plainly.

Zainab opened the diary and turned it to the names.

"I'm looking for these two. I want their real identities."

Raji raised an eyebrow.

"You want to die?"

"No," she replied, "I want to finish what I started."

The old man sighed.Then leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The Raven is a former customs chief.Now, he controls private ports in Apapa.Every dirty dollar, every 'charity' container—they pass through his gate."

"The Jackal is worse. A ghost in the system.Rumor says he was trained in Russia.He's linked to five assassinations—but never charged."

"If you touch these men, Lagos won't burn.Nigeria will."

Zainab's fingers gripped the edge of the table.

"I don't care. I just want their names."

Alhaji Raji looked at her for a long moment.

Then tore a piece of brown paper from his notepad.

He scribbled two names.

Folded it slowly.

Slid it across the table.

Zainab reached for it—but he held her wrist first.

"Once you open this, the ground will open too.And no one will cover you from the sky."

Zainab nodded. "I've already died once."

She took the paper.

Opened it.

And read:

1. Brigadier-General Akinleye Hassan (RAVEN)2. Chief Felix Adio aka "Mala" (JACKAL)

The paper shook in her hands.The names hit her like thunder.

She knew the second one."Mala" was the same man who once visited her shop with Dapo.

She remembered his strange laugh. His soft-spoken menace.

She remembered the way Dapo called him "Uncle."

Same evening.

Zainab stood on her hotel balcony staring at the paper again.

The game had changed.Dapo wasn't the kingpin—just the errand boy.

These two were the architects.And they were still free.

Obi walked in, holding a printed map of Apapa port.

"I've got something," he said.

Zainab turned.

"I've got something too," she replied.

Their eyes locked.

It was no longer just about justice.

It was about survival.

And it was time to decide who lives loudest.