CLAWS AND LAWS

Sade's convoy pulled into the sprawling compound of her late father, Chief Ajumobi. It was her first visit since his gruesome murder, and the weight of that day hung heavily in the air. Her sleek black limousine came to a halt, followed closely by two trucks belonging to the cleaning crew she'd hired. As she stepped out, a cold gust of wind rustled the trees lining the driveway, sending a chill up her spine.

She had expected an empty house—the property should have been sealed off, untouched, save for the occasional presence of the police investigating the Chief's death. But something was off. As she stood beside her car, waiting for the cleaners to alight, her eyes fell on the front entrance to the mansion. The heavy brass lock on the door was not the one she had used; she remembered it distinctly. She was the last to leave, securing the house herself with the original key, yet here was a new lock—a lock she did not recognize.

"What the hell is going on?" she murmured, a shadow of unease crossing her face. Panic bubbled beneath the surface as she considered the possibility. Had someone been inside her father's house? She moved quickly, signaling to her PA—Kunle, her loyal bodyguard and companion since childhood—to follow. They exchanged a wordless glance, both sensing that something was wrong.

As they approached the entrance, Sade noticed the door wasn't locked after all—just slightly ajar. She hesitated before pushing it open, her fingers lingering on the cold brass handle, then gestured for Kunle to stay close. The familiar scent of polished wood and imported leather wafted out to meet them, but it was marred by something else—a hint of stale air, of something lived-in that shouldn't have been.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps when a tall, lean man appeared in the hallway, moving towards them with a measured calm. His sudden presence startled her, and Kunle instinctively shifted his stance, one hand hovering near the inside of his jacket. The man said nothing, only watched them with an unnervingly steady gaze.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Sade demanded, her voice a tense whisper. The man's expression didn't change, and for a heartbeat, he simply stared at her, as if deciding whether to speak at all. Then, without a word, he stepped aside, revealing a woman who had been standing just out of view.

The woman was older, her face lined and weary, dressed in a plain grey dress. There was a hardness to her eyes that unnerved Sade. "I'm the new cook," the woman said, her tone flat. "Mrs. Ronke said you were expecting us."

Sade's confusion deepened. Ronke? It couldn't be. Ronke, her younger sister, had been institutionalized after the shock of their father's brutal death, lost to grief and whispers of madness. Sade's heart began to beat faster, a thud echoing in her ears. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her lips as a familiar figure stepped into view.

It was Ronke. Her sister, dressed in a flowing white dress, barefoot and serene, appeared at the top of the sweeping staircase. She looked healthier than Sade had seen her in months—no, years. There was a calmness, a strange composure that set Sade on edge. The change was both comforting and deeply unsettling.

"Ronke...?" Sade's voice broke, the name barely a whisper. The last time she'd seen her, Ronke had been locked away in a padded room, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her screams echoing through sterile hospital corridors. Now, she descended the stairs with an almost ethereal grace.

Sade wanted to question her—How are you here? When were you released?—but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, Ronke gave a radiant smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, arms outstretched.

And then, she hugged her.

The embrace was gentle, yet something about it felt wrong. Sade remained stiff, unsure, until she felt her sister's arms tighten around her, and the reality of her warmth became undeniable. The moment shattered her guarded resolve, and Sade's defenses crumbled. She clung to Ronke, burying her face in her sister's shoulder as silent tears coursed down her cheeks. They stood there, holding each other, mourning the father they had lost, each shedding tears for the nightmare that had upended their lives.

But amidst their reunion, a single thought clawed at Sade's mind—a whisper she could not silence: What if Ronke had never left the house at all?

Dinner Secrets

The room buzzed with the soft hum of chatter and clinking cutlery. Laughter echoed, and glasses brimmed with wine, reflecting the golden glow of the chandelier overhead. But Sade's smile was brittle, the curve of her lips tight, and her eyes kept flickering toward her sister, Ronke, who seemed oblivious to the tension simmering in the air. Ronke was lost in the feast, laughing freely, her face aglow with warmth and joy. It was as if she had managed to bury the past beneath layers of celebration, while Sade's unspoken words lingered like a bitter aftertaste. Something was wrong. Something she couldn't yet bring herself to voice.

The sisters had always been inseparable—a bond that had survived the darkest shadows of their past. But tonight, as Ronke's laughter filled the room, Sade couldn't shake the feeling that the past was clawing its way back to the surface, threatening to destroy the fragile peace they had both fought to maintain.

Flashback: 22 Years Earlier

Chief Ajumobi had just acquired a sprawling property by the lake, a jewel of shimmering, yellow-tinted water that seemed to glisten under the sun. It was the first family gathering since the purchase, a celebration. Eight-year-old Ronke and her ten-year-old sister, Sade, played by the lake's edge, hunched over a dead tortoise's shell. A tiny fish, trapped inside, wriggled helplessly. Sade wanted to smash the shell to free it, while Ronke, ever cautious, feared harming the creature. They bickered, their voices rising until their mother, Tonia, appeared.

The sisters abandoned the argument and ran to her, their eyes bright with joy. Tonia, always elusive and distant—a pilot whose career took her to the skies and away from her daughters—had arrived late, arms laden with gifts. Her gaze swept over the property, a rare warmth softening her features as she took in the scenery.

It was close to midnight when the wind began to pick up around the lake house, rattling the shutters and whispering through the cracks in the walls. The party had died down hours ago, and the only sounds in the house were the gentle ticking of the antique clock on the mantel and the occasional creak of wood settling. Chief Ajumobi was in the living room, staring out at the moonlight reflected on the yellowish waters, deep in thought. Tonia sat across from him, a glass of red wine in her hand, both of them silent in the glow of a dim floor lamp.

Then came the noise. A faint rustle outside, like dry leaves being crushed underfoot. Ajumobi froze, his instincts sharpened by years of carefully maintaining his family's safety and wealth. He stood slowly, setting his drink aside, motioning for Tonia to stay seated. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to silence her. A shadow moved outside the window, then another—two figures, swift and careful. Ajumobi's heart thudded in his chest. He crossed the room and reached for the revolver hidden in the side drawer of a low cabinet, his hand steady. He had been expecting something like this for a long time.

Then the front door creaked open, and a man slipped inside, his steps silent, his eyes scanning the room like a predator. Ajumobi waited, his breath shallow, gripping the gun. Another man followed, his face shrouded in darkness, holding a blade that gleamed in the faint light. Ajumobi caught Tonia's wide-eyed stare and silently mouthed one word: "Hide."

But it was too late. The second intruder's gaze locked onto Tonia, and his lips curled into a grin. He stepped forward, knife raised, and Ajumobi moved without thinking—a predator himself. His gun barked once, the sound a deafening explosion in the quiet house. The first intruder staggered, blood blossoming across his chest as he collapsed onto the carpet, his body twitching before falling still.

Tonia screamed, a high, broken wail, and dropped her wineglass. It shattered, red liquid mingling with the spreading pool of blood on the floor. The second man lunged for her, but Ajumobi was faster. He tackled the intruder mid-stride, and they hit the floor in a tangle of limbs. The knife skittered across the tiles, out of reach, and the two men rolled, a brutal, silent struggle for dominance. Ajumobi's fist cracked into the man's jaw, once, twice, the impact sending shudders up his arm.

Tonia backed away, breathing hard, hands shaking uncontrollably. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. A third man had entered the room, slipping through the back door like a shadow, his presence unnoticed in the chaos. He was tall, gaunt, with a scar running from his left eye to his jaw, and his face was twisted in a snarl. His hand moved beneath his coat, and he pulled out a gun, aiming it at Ajumobi, who was still grappling with the man on the floor.

"Stay where you are!" The intruder's voice was a low, guttural growl. Ajumobi froze, his hands still wrapped around his opponent's throat, his chest heaving with the effort to stay calm. Tonia took a step back, then another, her body trembling with terror. Her eyes darted from the gun in the stranger's hand to the revolver lying inches away from Ajumobi's grasp. She moved without thinking, reaching for it, but the intruder's gaze snapped to her.

"Don't move!" he barked, stepping closer, his gun unwavering.

In that moment, the man Ajumobi had pinned beneath him took advantage of his distraction. With a sudden surge of strength, he shoved Ajumobi off, sending him sprawling onto his back. Ajumobi's head struck the edge of the coffee table, and his vision swam. The intruder on the floor scrambled for the abandoned knife, but Ajumobi kicked out, knocking it further away. Blood trickled from a cut on Ajumobi's forehead, but he forced himself to focus, rolling to his knees.

Tonia was pale, her hands trembling as she crouched near the revolver. The scarred man's eyes narrowed, and he shifted the aim of his gun, targeting her instead.

"No!" Ajumobi roared, launching himself at the shooter. The man fired, the shot going wide, and Ajumobi's shoulder collided with the stranger's chest, sending them both crashing to the ground. The gun flew from the intruder's hand, skidding across the floor. The man on the floor with the knife lunged at Ajumobi, but Ajumobi twisted, catching the blade with his bare hand. Blood slicked his fingers, but he held firm, wrenching the knife away and driving his fist into the man's face with savage force.

Tonia watched, frozen, as Ajumobi wrestled the blade from the attacker's grip and used it with brutal efficiency, slicing through muscle and tendon. The intruder fell back, a gurgling moan escaping his lips, and Ajumobi turned just in time to see the scarred man pulling a backup gun from his ankle holster.

Ajumobi's face twisted in rage, and he grabbed the gun lying by Tonia's side, his arm a blur. He fired once, twice, three times. Two shots missed. One hit its mark, slamming into the scarred man's chest, dropping him where he stood. The room went deathly silent, save for Ajumobi's ragged breathing.

Then, just as Ajumobi reached for Tonia, there was movement—a man, the fourth one, previously unnoticed, rose from behind the couch. His gun was leveled, and Tonia, still holding the revolver, lifted it with shaking hands.

"Pull the trigger!" Ajumobi screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation. Tonia's eyes were wild, her grip unsteady. But she couldn't. Her fingers refused to move. The intruder's eyes gleamed with cold amusement as he watched her hesitate, and slowly, he raised his own gun.

Ajumobi's roar echoed through the room as he leaped for the man, but he was too late. There was a flash, a sharp, deafening crack, and Tonia's body jerked. She collapsed to the floor, eyes wide and lifeless, a single, fatal shot to the head.

Rage blinded Ajumobi. With a howl that barely sounded human, he lunged at the shooter, his fists crashing down like hammers. He seized the man's head and slammed it against the wall, again and again, until the intruder's body went limp in his hands. But even then, Ajumobi didn't stop, his grief-fueled fury unstoppable. He crushed the man's throat with his bare hands, every bone snapping like dry twigs under his relentless force.

Then, finally, it was over. He released the lifeless body, 

A second intruder, the one he had restrained, stirred, making a desperate grab for a pistol abandoned in the chaos. Ajumobi was faster, his movements a blur. He lunged, ripping the weapon from the man's grasp, and drove him back against the cold marble floor, one knee digging into the intruder's chest.

"Who sent you?!" The words were a guttural snarl, each question punctuated by a savage blow. Blood spattered, mingling with the blood already soaking the room. The man's breath rattled in his throat as he gasped, eyes wide with pain and fear.

"Pa... Pa Jide," he managed to choke out, his voice barely more than a whisper before he sagged, unconscious.

breathing hard, and staggered to Tonia's side, cradling her in his arms, his cries rising and falling in a heart-wrenching symphony of agony. The room was a battlefield, bodies strewn across the floor, blood soaking into the Persian rugs, the echoes of violence lingering in the stillness.

Upstairs, two little girls lay in bed, clutching each other, their faces buried in pillows to muffle the sounds of death and destruction below—a nightmare that would haunt them long after the night had passed, long after the lake's yellowish waters had washed away the blood.

Back to the Present

Ronke's laughter faded, a distant melody compared to the cries of the past. Sade watched her sister, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down, her heart heavy with the secret that still gnawed at her soul—a secret that Ronke seemed determined to ignore, even as it poisoned the air around them.

Sade's fork clattered against her plate, and Ronke looked up, eyes bright and unaware. Sade forced a smile, but the tension between them stretched tight like a bowstring, ready to snap. Their father's legacy, their mother's death