HERMIONE
The villa was quiet when Dylan and Daniel arrived. I had been sitting by the window, staring out at the twilight that blurred the edges of the rich Abuja skyline — a city that had felt both foreign and strangely comforting these past days. The lights of the wealthy neighborhood twinkled like distant stars, but inside me, the darkness clung stubbornly.
When Dylan walked through the door, everything shifted. His eyes searched mine — steady, fierce, full of a thousand unspoken words. He closed the distance between us in two strides and pulled me into a hug so tight I thought I might melt into him. I buried my face against his chest, letting his heartbeat steady my own.
"I'm here," he murmured. "You're safe."
Safe. The word felt foreign. After everything—the betrayal, the fear, the suffocating loss—I wasn't sure if I could truly believe it.
Daniel came next, wrapping an arm around Lia's trembling shoulders. She looked exhausted, like she'd been holding herself together with sheer willpower. Claire, ever the warrior, stood a little apart, arms crossed, scanning the room as if daring it to break again.
Then Claire's voice — sharp, dry, cutting through the heavy silence. "Hey! What about me? Am I the only one not getting a hug here?"
A weak laugh escaped me. "Of course not."
We all gathered around her, pulling her into the circle. "How are you holding up?" we asked, voices blending together.
She shrugged, shoulders tight with the weight of it all. "Surviving. Just surviving."
The fragile moment cracked when Daniel's expression darkened. "We have news."
I braced myself. The past weeks had left me raw and broken, and I was terrified of what this news might bring.
"The Nigerian police arrested Isabelle," Daniel said, voice low but unwavering. "The Special Anti-Robbery Squad — SARS — helped track her down. She was hiding deep in a remote compound."
Dylan's jaw tightened. "When they found her, she refused to surrender. Said she'd rather die than face prison. She shot herself before they could take her in."
My breath caught. The image of Isabelle — once a friend, now a twisted shadow — ending her life by her own hand filled me with a cold dread. She was gone, but the scars she left behind would never fade.
I closed my eyes, tears spilling over. "She killed Seraphine," I whispered, voice barely audible. The memory struck me like a physical blow.
I saw Seraphine again in my mind's eye: gentle, kind, the doctor who had always been a light in our group. The way she had smiled at me during long nights of study, the way she'd held my hand when things got too hard. And then… the shock of her sudden death, taken by Isabelle's merciless hand.
Lia's shoulders trembled beside me. "She was never really a friend," Lia said softly, voice thick with grief.
"No," I agreed, swallowing the lump in my throat. "But losing Seraphine… it hurts more than I thought it would."
Dylan's arms tightened around me. "She was more than a friend," he said quietly. "She was family."
The words settled around us like a warm blanket. For a moment, I let myself lean fully into him — safe, protected. But even as relief washed over me, the emptiness remained. The knowledge that one of us was gone forever.
"I thought I had more time," I said, voice breaking. "More time to say goodbye."
Dylan kissed my temple. "She knew you loved her."
The room felt heavy with unshed tears and memories. Claire cleared her throat, breaking the mood with a sardonic smile. "Well... does this mean I get a hug too?"
Laughter bubbled up between us, fragile but real. We pulled Claire into the circle, one by one, holding onto each other like lifelines.
Daniel's voice cut through the quiet. "Tomorrow, we go home. Back to America. Back to a life where we can breathe without fear."
I nodded, eyes locked on Dylan's. "A life worth fighting for."
We all stood together, battered but unbroken. And for the first time in a long time, I believed we could heal.