Chapter 05

Chapter 05

Agbe Nyega

In the night, Samuel had a strange dream of blood.

Not the way it spilled—he had seen enough of that—but the way it soaked into the earth, darkening the soil until even new grass grew sick. In the dream, he tried to wash his hands in the sea, but the water kept turning red.

He woke before dawn, breathing hard, the city still wrapped in uneasy silence.

The inspector’s words refused to leave him.

Hate us and save lives anyway.

Samuel sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. The pistols lay disassembled beside him, their pieces arranged with unconscious care. He stared at them as if they were part of his body.

“I never asked for this,” he muttered.

But gifts, he was learning, didn’t ask permission.

His mother noticed the change immediately.

Samuel had always carried grief like a stone in his chest, but now something heavier weighed him down. He moved carefully, watched the street longer before stepping outside, locked doors twice.

One evening, as she folded cloth, she spoke without looking up.

“You are standing at the edge of something,” she said.

Samuel froze.

“I can see it in the way you walk,” she continued. “That’s how your brother walked before he left us.”

The words cut deep.

“I’m not Francis,” Samuel said quietly.

She nodded. “No. Francis chased anger. You are running from it.”

She set the fabric aside and faced him fully.

“Tell me one thing,” she said. “Whatever choice you make—will it protect life, or take it?”

Samuel didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

She reached for his hands, turning them over slowly.

“Our family name, Your father’s, is Agbenyega for a reason,” she said. “Because life is the one thing we cannot replace.”

That night, Samuel made his decision.

He did not go to the police station.

He went to the inspector.

Akakpo was waiting in a parked car near the old lighthouse, engine off, radio silent. He didn’t look surprised when Samuel slipped into the passenger seat.

“I won’t wear your uniform,” Samuel said immediately. “I won’t be seen with you. And I don’t take orders.”

Akakpo nodded. “Informants never do.”

Samuel’s eyes hardened. “I don’t kill. Ever. And if you use me to settle scores, I’m gone.”

“Agreed,” the inspector said.

Samuel hesitated, then added, “My mother stays out of this. If she’s touched, I disappear.”

Akakpo met his gaze. “Understood.”

Silence hung between them.

“You help us,” the inspector said finally, “and we’ll help you clean your record when this is over.”

Samuel laughed softly. “There is no ‘clean’ after this.”

“No,” Akakpo agreed. “But there is less blood.”

Samuel extended his hand.

They shook.

The city did not notice the moment it changed.

Samuel’s first job was simple.

A warehouse near the salt flats. Small shipment. Twelve pistols, four rifles. ATF-linked. No raid. Just confirmation.

Samuel moved through the night like a rumor. He didn’t confront anyone. He watched, listened, memorized faces, routes, times. By morning, Akakpo had names, numbers, and coordinates.

The police moved in two days later.

No gunfire.

That was when Samuel understood the real power of his role.

Kojo Black noticed too.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Kojo said when they crossed paths near the docks. “Quiet men are dangerous.”

Samuel kept his expression neutral.

Kojo leaned closer. “Word is, guns are disappearing. Someone is talking.”

Samuel met his eyes calmly.

“Careful,” Kojo warned. “If I smell police on you, I won’t miss next time.”

Samuel walked away without responding.

But his heart pounded.

He was balancing on a blade now—criminal to criminals, traitor to rebels, weapon to the police.

And alone.

Late one night, as Samuel cleaned his pistols, he paused and looked at his reflection in the metal.

“Life is precious,” he whispered.

Not as a prayer.

As a rule.

Outside, sirens wailed faintly, followed by silence.

Somewhere, guns were being taken off the streets.

Somewhere else, the ATF was preparing for war.

And standing between them was 2 Gun Agbenyega—not as a legend, but as a line the city could not afford to cross.