Jacob lifted his head off the floor briefly.

Everyone was still lying on the floor. Some were still, others trembling, and a few sobbing.

The atmosphere remained thick with fear, with everyone terrified to open their mouths to speak, lest these masked beasts react unpleasantly. It felt like hours had passed. As to whether that was the case or not was beyond anyone’s guess.

What everyone knew for sure, though, was that every passing second carried with it a new wave of apprehension.

But-but why are they doing this? Why? Whyyy? Jacob wondered miserably for the gazillionth time. He just could not fathom why they were doing this. They had done no wrong to anyone, as far as he knew. And the delegation, they were just innocent visitors. They didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.

And why had Fidelis been dragged into a separate room? What was their beef with him? What were they doing to him? What agenda did they have up their sleeves? What was the point of all this?

All he could do was wonder. And wonder some more. And just keep wondering and wondering and wondering and…

BOOOOMM!!

That period of wondering was cut short as a sudden deafening explosion outside rocked the room to its core, and everyone in it. Many of the hostages gasped and screeched audibly; one or two let out muffled cries. Someone whispered a prayer under their breath, the words half-lost in the ringing that filled their ears.

Even Dephios and Stefeus seemed a bit shaken by the blast. They barely moved, but a look of surprise was evident in their eyes.

Before anyone could properly process what had just happened, a familiar voice—booming and authoritative—crackled to life through a megaphone outside.

“ATTENTION EVERYONE!”

The voice of Kosys was sharp and deliberate, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“That explosion wasn’t meant to hurt anyone,” he announced, his words laced with grim satisfaction. “It was a grenade. Tossed. And shot mid-air. A demonstration of precision.”

Everyone in the room exchanged terrified glances, though none dared to speak a word or lift their heads. Francisca Martinez clenched her fists tightly, her lips moving in silent prayer.

“This is a message to the military! We know you’re near, and we know what you’re planning,” Kosys continued. “We’ve intercepted your pathetic attempt at a covert assault. Now let this serve as a warning to you.”

There was a pause.

“Any further attempt to move closer to this building and carry out a rescue mission will result in the detonation of many grenades. And then, you’ll watch as lives are lost—your lives and their lives—while the useless government you serve does nothing but count the casualties from the safety and comfort of their air-conditioned offices!”

The hatred in his tone towards the government was as clear as day.

“Think about it!” he sneered. “Are you really ready to die for leaders who wouldn’t so much as spare your families a letter of condolence? Be wise, and save yourselves! Our fight is not with you, dear troops. So don’t involve yourselves in matters that don’t concern you; your families need you.”

The silence that followed, outside and in the hall, was almost unbearable. Obviously, nobody could see the military vehicles, but it felt like they had been found out and were now toothless. They could almost feel the resignation from miles away, and it was soul-crushing.

To know that a chance at salvation had been nipped in the bud, without a chance to even grow.

“Why is this happening?” Max Abu whispered faintly, his words barely audible. “Why in Allah’s name is this happening?”

Joevin Joseph, lying near the center of the group muttered back, “I don’t know, man… I don’t know.” His voice cracked under the weight of his own fear.

No one else spoke, but the feeling was the same. They all felt deflated.

So close to being rescued, yet so far.

***

Reentering the room, Kosys had a look of satisfaction on his face. Lycipus, seated on the table with her eyes fixed on a now-unconscious Fidelis, turned to him.

“They backed off, didn’t they?” she asked, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction.

Kosys allowed himself a smile, leaning against the wall as he nodded. “Of course, they did. One explosion, a few choice words, and all those tanks decided to tuck their tails in and think twice.”

Lycipus snickered. “Perfect. They better not waste their time coming after us. We don’t mind shedding blood if we’re pushed to the wall. Not in the slightest. If they like, they should try us and see.”

Then, the door creaked open, and Stefeus stepped inside. His dark eyes flicked between the two of them.

“What happened?” he demanded gruffly. “I heard the explosion.”

Kosys straightened, folding his arms. “Our friends in the military outside were getting too comfortable, thinking they could sneak up on us,” he announced. “Thanks to Mole, I found out, and I made sure they understood who’s in control here.”

“Oh, nice, nice. And they’re gone now?” Stefeus raised an eyebrow.

Kosys nodded. “They’re gone. And even better, I recorded the whole thing. The announcement, the warning… the whole show. It’s already been sent to every social media platform you can think of.”

Stefeus blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Shiiiiit. You’re serious?”

“Fucking serious. Going viral on Facebook, Twitter… all of them. Kwasia government! They wanna fuck with us, they’ve got another thing coming. Instead of focusing on preparing that press conference where that stupid little insect admits his crimes, they’re trying to pull one over us. Stupid people!”

Lycipus shook her head. “They’re fucking stupid, that’s for sure. Speaking of which, don’t they have like an hour or so left?”

Kosys turned to the clock, began to nod, then stopped. He then slowly turned to his cronies, an evil smile on his face.

“You know what. I just changed my mind.”

***

The atmosphere in the Situation Room was suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut in half with a knife. Muted conversations and hurried footsteps filled the space as the tension grew more and more intense. Dawn was breaking, but not a wink of sleep had been had since the meeting began in the early hours of the morning.

And with the latest video made by the captors, nobody was ready to sleep any time soon.

President Ansa-Obiaka paced at the head of the table, his face a storm of frustration while the Defence Minister was by the wall, phone pressed tightly to his ear.

“Tell the ground team to hold position! That explosion wasn’t a warning for the hostages—it was aimed at us. They’re showing they can hit us without hesitation. If we provoke them further, this will spiral out of control.”

He hung up with a sharp motion and turned to the President, his jaw clenched.

“Mr. President, the Dead Eyes have made their position clear. That explosion we just got wind of? It wasn’t random. It was a direct threat—meant for our forces. A grenade, tossed and shot mid-air right in front of our soldiers. They’re sending a message that they has the upper hand. If we make one wrong move, it could escalate, and our men and the hostages will pay the price.”

“And what do you suggest?” Ansa-Obiaka shot back, his voice rising with frustration. “That we just sit here while these criminals dictate the terms? That we let them humiliate us in front of the entire world?”

“They’re playing the psychological game, sir,” Adelaide Nketia cut in, sounding deeply concerned. “First the explosion, now the broadcast. That video of their warning is already all over social media. Millions have seen it. They’re rattling our troops and shaping the narrative. Every minute we don’t act makes us look weaker.”

The President slammed his palm onto the table, the sound startling even the seasoned officials around him. “This is exactly what they want! To make us look powerless. To tell the world that Ghana can’t even manage a crisis on its own damn soil!” He paused, taking a sharp breath, his voice softening as he added, “But I’m not about to gamble with the lives of those hostages either. Or our gallant soldiers.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone.

“We need to work quickly, Sir. That deadline gets closer and closer,” Adu-Boamah finally said, breaking the quiet. He glanced at the digital clock on the wall, its red numbers ticking down ominously. “We need to find a new strategy quickly. If we don’t…”

Before he could complete his sentence, the heavy doors to the room creaked open. Vincent Otu rushed in, his face pale, his eyes darting nervously between the President and the assembled cabinet.

“Mr. President,” Vincent began, his voice unsteady. “Kosys—the leader of the Dead Eyes—he’s on the line. He insists on speaking to you. I’ve put it on speaker.”

A tense silence fell over the room as Vincent placed the phone on the table and pressed a button. A crude voice then echoed.

“Mr. Kodwo Ansa-Obiaka! So-called president of the Republic of Ghana! Criminal in command! We finally get to speak!”

Everyone looked repulsed. This voice carried the unshakable confidence of someone who believed he held all the cards. So much arrogance and disrespect and pomposity.

And pure wickedness.

“You know, I’ve had a bit of time to reflect on the military’s little stunt earlier. Trying to creep closer, testing our patience. Of course, I know that was done under your command, and I must say, that was bold. Bold, but foolish. Extremely foolish on your part.”

Ansa-Obiaka leaned forward, his jaw tight. “Now you listen here, Kosys, if that’s what you call yourself, you’re playing a dangerous game. And a foolish one at that—”

“You think this is a game?” Kosys interrupted, his voice echoing. “You think this is a fucking game? Don’t you dare chat shit to me, you diminutive dickhead! We gave you a simple condition. Confess your crimes against the people of Ghana and step down. Very easy to comply with. But it’s crystal clear you don’t take us seriously. Just like how you don’t take the cries of regular Ghanaians seriously. And on top of that, you rather secretly sent the military after us, thinking you’d get one over us. Well, let me tell you this, yeah: your failed attempt to outmaneuver us has dire consequences. And since you were so eager to shave time off my deadline by escalating things, I’ve decided to return the favor. So guess what? Your time is up! And we’re gonna show you what happens when you double-cross us.”

President Ansa-Obiaka’s eyes widened as he heard the sound of a cocked rifle.

Everyone gasped in horror.

“No-no-no-no-no! Wait, stop-“

“Dephios! Fire!”

There was a pause…

…and then the sound of a gunshot rang out over the speaker.

POW!

A cacophony of muffled cries and desperate pleas followed on the line, echoing the horror of what had just happened.

The president stood to his feet, shell-shocked and horrified at that sound of death. The cabinet members looked devastated, with some already beginning to shed tears.

“Do you understand now, Mr. Ansa-Obiaka?” Kosys slowly spoke, his voice unshaken. “This is not a bluff. We’re not playing games. We mean fucking business. And you need to get in line. So guess what? It’s now morning, and I’m feeling a little generous, so, I’m giving you the rest of the day to get your shit straight and put that press release together. If we don’t hear anything by 6 PM tonight, another person gets a bullet to the head. And from then, for every two hours you delay, we will send another soul to their death. Confess to the nation and end this. Or their blood will stain your legacy forever. Tick-tock, motherfucker.”

The line went dead.

The room was silent. The ministers sat in stunned disbelief, some with their heads in their hands, others staring blankly at the floor.

This was no longer a game. A life had been snuffed out by these cruel captors.

And no matter who it was, this spelled doom for the country.

Damn! They did it. They actually killed one of the hostages! Terrible! But who was slayed?