Chapter 24: The Pact of Blood and the Ghost in the Archives

The abandoned library groaned in the wind like a house trying to breathe again. But it was the small wooden box on the floor—ornate, carved with unsettling precision—that stopped time. When Dapo's voice came through the comms, low and sharp, Yuhan tensed.

> "Sir... It's a photo. Shen Mochen's grandfather. And on the back... it says, 'The Pact.'"

Yuhan's grip on his tablet tightened. That one word—Pact—felt heavier than the entire box. It was more than a name. It was a curse, a signature, and a warning all at once. He could almost hear his heartbeat syncing with the weight of history pressing against his lungs.

> "Bring it to me. Now," he said, steady but ice-cold. "Sweep the entire archive again. I don't believe this was left behind by accident."

Somebody wanted him to find this. Someone knew exactly where the trail would lead.

Back in the war room of his estate, Yuhan studied the photo under harsh LED light. Even through its faded sepia tone, the patriarch of the Shen family stared back like a man who had carved kingdoms out of other people's bones. His expression wasn't pride. It was defiance.

Yuhan sat back, his thoughts spinning. He had expected lies. Betrayal. Even murder. But this… this hinted at something older. Rooted. Rotting in the very foundation of Biogbolo's wealth. His personal war with Mochen had just become something far more dangerous: a war against a legacy built on land stolen, voices silenced, and blood spilled.

> "Ngozi," he called into his line, "I want eyes on all records tied to Shen Mochen's grandfather—especially land deals, estate transfers, and legal filings around the time of Anya's disappearance. Look for anything unusual: suppressed court cases, ghost names, forged signatures. And find out who else signed that Pact."

Across the city, high above in a glass tower built on silence and gold, Mochen stared out over Yenagoa's lights, his reflection fragmented across the glass. He could feel it. The silence in Yuhan's movements. The stillness before a storm. Yuhan had met with Meili. And he was digging.

> "Sir," his legal aide reported, "Yuhan's gone cold publicly. But his back channels are hyperactive. He's researching ancestral land seizures. Old families. He's up to something."

Mochen turned slowly, his smile razor-thin. "Then it's started," he murmured.

He made his move that night, driving to Chief Adekunle's estate under the cover of darkness.

> "Yuhan's pulling on threads," he told the Chief. "And one of them leads back to your house."

For a moment, Adekunle's ever-composed mask slipped.

> "Impossible," he said tightly. "The Pact was buried decades ago."

"Then why is your compound leaking?" Mochen hissed. "Someone's talking."

Adekunle's eyes went flat. "We silence that leak. And if Yuhan doesn't stop... we bury him too."

---

Back in the archives, Ngozi's team uncovered something chilling: "The Pact" wasn't one document. It was a web. Dozens of interconnected contracts, land seizures, and informal alliances stretching back forty years. Mochen's grandfather. Chief Adekunle. And other powerful names—some of them still running this city from behind closed doors.

Worse, the deals weren't just dirty—they were violent. Entire communities displaced. Protesters vanished. And the common thread in the records of missing men and women? One name kept surfacing: Mr. Anya.

But then Ngozi found something stranger—something older.

> "Yuhan," she said over the secure call, "We found a forgotten police log entry from two years before Anya started investigating. A landowner filed a complaint—his family's land was seized illegally. His name was... The Librarian. That's his real name. He was a victim."

Yuhan froze.

> "So he wasn't just an archivist."

"No. He was a survivor. And he made it his mission to document everything they did."

Someone had stolen that mission. The archives were gone.

Just as the truth started to make sense, Yuhan's secure line rang. Chike. His voice was different this time—raw, frightened.

> "Yuhan… The Librarian knew it all. He spent his life writing down what they tried to erase. Mochen's grandfather, Chief Adekunle… they killed my brother to stop him. But your father... your father tried to walk away. He knew. He tried to protect people, and they punished him for it. They controlled him because of something that happened early in his career. A deal he signed, unknowingly… something that tied him to them."

Yuhan leaned forward, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

> "What deal?"

But Chike never answered. There was a sharp noise in the background. Shouting. Metal striking concrete. His voice dropped to a whisper:

> "They know I'm talking to you. I'm done for. Find the Guardian. He took the archives. He has the ledger. And Yuhan—he's not just coming for them. He's coming for your father too."

The line went dead.

Yuhan stood in silence. A pit opened in his chest. For the first time, it wasn't about Mochen anymore. It wasn't even about Adekunle. This was about a new player. A shadow that had watched it all, waited for decades—and now was moving.

A voice crackled on his comms. Ngozi again.

> "Sir… you need to see this. The team just finished tracing the vehicles spotted near the old library. They belong to a private firm. Elite. Off-the-books. But we found a name buried in the client list... The Alhaji family."

Yuhan's breath caught.

> "They were one of the founding families behind the Pact," Ngozi said. "But they've been silent for decades. One of them—Isiaka Alhaji—vanished years ago. And he had a son who vowed revenge. He disappeared too. But our scans suggest… he's back. And he might be the Guardian.

Yuhan slowly set the photo of Mochen's grandfather back in the box. He no longer saw just a ruthless man.

He saw the architect of a bloodstained empire.

And somewhere out there, a forgotten son of vengeance held the only key to burning it all down.