The rich lived in the clouds. The rest of the city fought to survive in the shadows below.

In Lagos, nothing was what it seemed. Behind the shiny towers were hidden stories, stories of struggle, power, secrets, and sometimes, resistance. And tonight, Jason and Leah were slipping into one of those stories. One that could change everything.

“Lagos smells like sweat, fried plantains, and secrets,” Jason muttered, crouching behind a crumbling wall.

Leah gave him a sideways glance. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I just mean... this place has layers,” he replied, brushing grime off his knee. “We’re not in Miami anymore.”

“You can say that again.”...