Chapter 54 - The Night of No Mercy
General Simiyu sat in the command tent, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the wooden table. The coup in Kilwa had changed everything. The war, once fought for a city, now seemed pointless. But without undeniable proof, Malik would never lay down his arms. And until then, Nuri had no choice but to fight.
He exhaled sharply. "What to do?" he muttered, his eyes narrowing at the map before him. The pieces were all there; he just needed to make the right move.
Two nights passed, and the night of the ambush arrived. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made warriors grip their weapons tighter, whispering silent prayers to the spirits of their ancestors. Tonight, the mercenaries would learn what it meant to cross Nuri.
Simiyu, sword at his waist, strode into the darkened forest, whistling a leisurely tune. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled his senses, a deceptive contrast to the storm of violence brewing beneath the night sky. He bent slightly, brushing his fingers over a wild rose, inhaling its scent—one last moment of peace before blood was spilled.
A crack of thunder in the distance masked the sound of approaching footsteps. Then—
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."
A deep, guttural voice cut through the night. Simiyu’s muscles tensed as he straightened, his gaze locking onto the figures emerging from the shadows. The moonlight glinted off metal—guns, dozens of them.
He was surrounded.
A smirking mercenary leveled his firearm at him. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you," he sneered, seeing Simiyu’s hand inch toward his sword. "I might accidentally pull the trigger."
Simiyu clenched his jaw. Twenty men, heavily armed. But he wasn’t alone. Not really.
"What are you doing in our camp?" he asked, voice cold as steel.