LOVE AND AND BULLET
PART 9
The iron gates of Obinna’s mansion groaned open, the sound echoing through the compound like a royal decree.
Ava walked beside him—not behind him—her boots clicking against the polished marble pathway. The air smelled of gunpowder, sweat, and victory. Behind them, Emeka stumbled in chains, his once-proud head now bowed, his expensive clothes torn and bloodied.
The entire compound had gathered—Obinna’s men, his lieutenants, even the house staff—all lined up in perfect formation. Silence draped over them like a heavy cloak.
Then, as one, they dropped to their knees.
Not just for Obinna.
For *her.
The celebration was legendary.
The mansion’s grand hall had been transformed into a palace of revelry. Tables groaned under the weight of steaming jollof rice, spicy suya, and towers of fresh fruit. Palm wine and champagne flowed freely. Music thumped through the walls, the bass vibrating in Ava’s chest as she sat at Obinna’s right hand—the place of honor.
Emeka was forced to kneel in the corner, wrists bound, watching as his empire crumbled before his eyes.
Obinna raised his glass, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the candlelight. “To the woman who fights like a goddess and loves like a storm.”
The room erupted in cheers, glasses clinking, voices chanting "Obinna! Ava! Obinna! Ava!"
Ava’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t look away from Obinna’s gaze.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Tonight, I worship you properly.”
Later, when the feast had dwindled and the music softened, Obinna led Ava to his bedroom—a sanctuary of dark wood, silk sheets, and the faint scent of sandalwood.
Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting silver stripes across their skin as Obinna peeled away her clothes with reverence.
“Every scar,” he murmured, tracing the marks on her body, “every bruise—you wore them for me.”
Ava shivered as his lips followed his fingers, mapping her like sacred territory.
They didn’t rush.
This wasn’t just passion—it was a claiming.
When Obinna finally sank into her, their moans tangled together, Ava clutched at his back, her nails leaving crescent moons in his skin.
“Stay,” he begged between thrusts, his voice raw. “Not just in my bed. In my life. As my second. As my queen.”
Ava arched beneath him, her answer lost in a cry of pleasure.
But she knew.
Her heart had already decided.
Dawn came too soon.
Ava woke to Obinna’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare back. She turned, meeting his gaze—soft in the morning light, but no less dangerous.
“We have one last thing to do,” he said.
She knew what he meant.
Emeka.
The basement was cold, the air thick with damp and regret.
Emeka sat slumped against the wall, his once-fine clothes now filthy, his face gaunt. He looked up as they entered, his lips curling into a bitter smile.
“Come to gloat, brother?”
Obinna crossed his arms. “Come to understand.”
Emeka’s laugh was hollow. “What’s there to understand? You won. I lost.”
Ava stepped forward. “Why betray your own blood?”
Emeka’s eyes flicked to her, filled with something like pity. **“You really don’t know, do you?”
Ava stiffened. “Know what?”
“Your precious NDLEA,” Emeka spat. “They’re the ones who came to me. Told me if I helped take Obinna down, they’d let me keep the empire.”
Ava’s blood turned to ice.
“They knew you were undercover,” Emeka continued, grinning at her shock. “They planned for you to die in the crossfire. Clean little accident—no loose ends.”
Obinna’s hand found hers, squeezing tight.
But Ava barely felt it.
Because the truth was worse than betrayal.
It was calculated sacrifice.
TO BE CONTINUED...
LOVE AND AND BULLET
PART 9
The iron gates of Obinna’s mansion groaned open, the sound echoing through the compound like a royal decree.
Ava walked beside him—not behind him—her boots clicking against the polished marble pathway. The air smelled of gunpowder, sweat, and victory. Behind them, Emeka stumbled in chains, his once-proud head now bowed, his expensive clothes torn and bloodied.
The entire compound had gathered—Obinna’s men, his lieutenants, even the house staff—all lined up in perfect formation. Silence draped over them like a heavy cloak.
Then, as one, they dropped to their knees.
Not just for Obinna.
For *her.
The celebration was legendary.
The mansion’s grand hall had been transformed into a palace of revelry. Tables groaned under the weight of steaming jollof rice, spicy suya, and towers of fresh fruit. Palm wine and champagne flowed freely. Music thumped through the walls, the bass vibrating in Ava’s chest as she sat at Obinna’s right hand—the place of honor.
Emeka was forced to kneel in the corner, wrists bound, watching as his empire crumbled before his eyes.
Obinna raised his glass, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the candlelight. “To the woman who fights like a goddess and loves like a storm.”
The room erupted in cheers, glasses clinking, voices chanting "Obinna! Ava! Obinna! Ava!"
Ava’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t look away from Obinna’s gaze.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Tonight, I worship you properly.”
Later, when the feast had dwindled and the music softened, Obinna led Ava to his bedroom—a sanctuary of dark wood, silk sheets, and the faint scent of sandalwood.
Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting silver stripes across their skin as Obinna peeled away her clothes with reverence.
“Every scar,” he murmured, tracing the marks on her body, “every bruise—you wore them for me.”
Ava shivered as his lips followed his fingers, mapping her like sacred territory.
They didn’t rush.
This wasn’t just passion—it was a claiming.
When Obinna finally sank into her, their moans tangled together, Ava clutched at his back, her nails leaving crescent moons in his skin.
“Stay,” he begged between thrusts, his voice raw. “Not just in my bed. In my life. As my second. As my queen.”
Ava arched beneath him, her answer lost in a cry of pleasure.
But she knew.
Her heart had already decided.
Dawn came too soon.
Ava woke to Obinna’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare back. She turned, meeting his gaze—soft in the morning light, but no less dangerous.
“We have one last thing to do,” he said.
She knew what he meant.
Emeka.
The basement was cold, the air thick with damp and regret.
Emeka sat slumped against the wall, his once-fine clothes now filthy, his face gaunt. He looked up as they entered, his lips curling into a bitter smile.
“Come to gloat, brother?”
Obinna crossed his arms. “Come to understand.”
Emeka’s laugh was hollow. “What’s there to understand? You won. I lost.”
Ava stepped forward. “Why betray your own blood?”
Emeka’s eyes flicked to her, filled with something like pity. **“You really don’t know, do you?”
Ava stiffened. “Know what?”
“Your precious NDLEA,” Emeka spat. “They’re the ones who came to me. Told me if I helped take Obinna down, they’d let me keep the empire.”
Ava’s blood turned to ice.
“They knew you were undercover,” Emeka continued, grinning at her shock. “They planned for you to die in the crossfire. Clean little accident—no loose ends.”
Obinna’s hand found hers, squeezing tight.
But Ava barely felt it.
Because the truth was worse than betrayal.
It was calculated sacrifice.
TO BE CONTINUED...