The door to KC's room creaked open, startling him from a restless sleep. The woman from the horrific scene he had witnessed slipped inside, her face taut with anxiety. "KC, wake up. We don't have much time," she whispered urgently, her breath warm against his ear.
KC sat up, rubbing his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. "You... What is happening?" he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep and fear.
“I am getting you out of here. Now, before it is too late." She tossed him a bundle of clothes, the rough fabric scratching his skin. "Put these on, quickly."
Confused but trusting, KC obeyed, his fingers trembling as he pulled on the clothes. The woman led him out of the room, into the dark, silent corridors of the compound. The air was chilly, and KC shivered in his thin clothes, goosebumps rising on his skin.
"Where are we going?" KC whispered, his breath misting in the cold air.
"You will see. Hurry, the guards will make their rounds soon," she replied, her voice tight with tension.
They came to a stop before a nondescript door. The woman unlocked it and ushered KC inside, closing the door behind them. The room was musty, the air thick with the scent of old wood and dust, making KC's nose itch.
KC's eyes widened as he took in the sight of shelves stacked high with boxes and crates. "What is all this?" he asked, his fingers running over the rough wood, splinters pricking his skin.
The woman's expression was grim, her eyes haunted. "The source of your father's wealth. Food, medicine, supplies - all stolen from our village, from the aid meant to help our people. He hoards it, sells it for profit while our people suffer and die."
KC's hands clenched into fists, anger and disbelief warring in his chest, his nails digging into his palms. "He is letting our people die for money?" he asked, his voice shaking.
The woman nodded, tears glistening in her eyes, her voice breaking. "He killed my brother for trying to stop him."
A heavy silence hung between them. KC leaned against a crate, the rough wood biting into his palms. Then, he spoke, his voice low but firm, "I have to confront him. I cannot let him keep doing this."
The woman's head snapped up, her eyes wide with fear, her fingers digging into his arm. "No, KC! You cannot. He is too dangerous. And tomorrow... I don't know what he is planning, but it is something awful. You need to leave, now, while you have the chance."
She pulled him towards another door, hidden behind a stack of crates. "This leads out of the compound. You can escape, find safety."
But KC pulled back, shaking his head, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. "I cannot run. Not from this. Not from him."
"KC, please," the woman pleaded, desperation edging into her voice. She gripped his arm. "You don't understand what he is capable of."
"I do," KC said softly, placing his hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. "I saw what he did to you."
"My mother used to tell me a story," KC said, his voice distant, his eyes glazed with memories. "About a boy named David who faced a giant. Everyone thought he would lose, but he had faith. And he won." He looked at the woman, his eyes fierce with determination, his voice steady despite the fear that churned in his gut. "I have to have faith, too."
The woman opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of distant footsteps silenced her, her eyes darting to the door in panic.
"We are out of time, you will not go?" she whispered urgently, her breath hot against his cheek.
"No," he said, his voice steady and unwavering, even as his heart raced in his chest.
The woman reached into her pocket and pressed something into KC's hand - a small, intricately carved knife. The handle was warm from her pocket, the wood smooth under his fingertips, a small comfort in the face of the danger that loomed before him.
"This was my brother's," she said, her voice breaking, tears streaming down her face. "Take it. May it bring you luck."
KC's fingers closed around the hilt, a silent promise, the weight of the knife grounding him.
"I will distract the guards," the woman said, her eyes darting to the door, her body tense. "You sneak back to your room. And KC..." She hesitated, her voice softening, her hand gentle on his cheek. "Be careful."
He nodded to her slowly as he quickly tucked the knife into the waistband of his pants, at the small of his back, the cold metal pressing against his skin.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and Uchenna strode in, flanked by his guards armed with AK-47s. A cruel smile played on his lips as he surveyed the scene before him, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Nia, my dear," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his footsteps heavy on the concrete floor. "Did you really think I wouldn't anticipate your little escape attempt?"
Nia's eyes widened in fear, her body frozen in place, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Uchenna's hand moved to his holster, drawing his gun with a fluid motion, the metal gleaming in the dim light.
"You've outlived your usefulness," he sneered, leveling the weapon at her chest, his finger tightening on the trigger.
The shot rang out, echoing in the confined space, the sound deafening. Nia crumpled to the ground, a crimson stain spreading across her chest. KC's cry of anguish was cut short as the guards seized him, their rough hands bruising his arms.
Uchenna stepped over Nia's body, his eyes fixed on KC, his voice cold and emotionless, sending a chill down KC's spine. "The warlords are waiting," he said, his lips curling into a sneer. "It's time for you to fulfill your purpose."