The smell of burnt yam and blood hangs thick in the humid Lagos air. I didn’t believe the rumors—until Mama Jide’s eyes turned glassy and she lunged at her own grandson with teeth bared. Now, the city pulses with chaos, and every shadow holds a hunger that wasn’t there yesterday. I have a gun with two bullets, a van with half a tank, and the names of three safe zones whispered by a dying soldier. But trust is as rare as clean water now. Who do I save? Who do I become?