The metal door rattled.
Mandla's voice slipped through the thin gap, low and collected — the kind of voice that made people obey without thinking.
"Dombi… open the door. We need to talk."
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Talk?
No.
Molefe's letter echoed in her mind:
"Trust no one.
Especially Mandla."
She scanned the tiny storage unit again — bare walls, the safe, the file, the photos. No window. No back exit. Only that one metal door… and Mandla standing on the other side of it.
Her phone buzzed.
Another message:
"If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be gone."
That didn't comfort her.
It terrified her.
She stepped back quietly, clutching the black file to her chest.
The shadow outside shifted. He was pacing. Thinking.
Calculating.
Then the door handle jerked, loud and sharp.
"Dombi."
"If you run from me, you run straight into the people who killed your parents."
Her breath caught.
Was he lying?
Or twisting the truth the way powerful men do — just enough to manipulate?
She kept still.
The door shook again, harder.
That's when she noticed it — the ventilation grille high up in the corner of the storage unit.
Small.
But not too small.
Her only chance.
She dragged the metal file box beneath it and climbed, her hands trembling so badly she almost slipped. The screws on the vent were old, rusted. She pushed. The top right corner gave in with a crack.
Outside:
Footsteps stopped.
Silence.
Then—
A key scraping into the lock.
Panic surged through her.
She ripped the vent loose just as the roller door began lifting from the bottom, inch by inch, Mandla's black shoes were already visible.
Dombi pulled herself up into the narrow duct, metal scraping her arms. She grabbed the edge and yanked her legs up just as Mandla crouched down and lifted the door fully.
He stepped inside.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Too calmly.
He looked around the empty unit.
"You're smarter than Molefe ever gave you credit for."
Dombi froze in the duct, holding her breath so tightly her chest burned.
"Run if you want," Mandla said, speaking to the empty room.
"But you will come back to me. Because you have no idea what you're running from."
He turned and walked out, his phone already pressed to his ear.
"She has the file. Lock down the area."
Her blood turned cold.
He wasn't alone.
She crawled through the duct, inch by painful inch, until she reached the exit grate that opened behind the storage building. She kicked it out and dropped into the alley.
Two men in suits rounded the corner.
She didn't think — she ran.
Her legs burned, lungs screaming, but the file stayed clutched under her arm.
Down the alley
Across the main road
Into the crowd near the bus stop
She ducked behind a fruit stand, breath shaking.
A taxi stopped in front of her — door open.
She didn't even ask where it was going.
She jumped in.
"Drive!" she gasped.
The driver blinked at her panic — then stepped on the pedal.
Through the window, she saw Mandla's men rushing onto the street, scanning the cars, searching for her.
But they were seconds too late.
S
he was gone.
Still shaking.
Still clutching the truth Molefe died for.
Still breathing only because she moved faster than fear…,