CHRONICLES OF A RUNS GIRL Final Episode (Series One)

THE LION TAIL

Deòlu sat in her penthouse, staring blankly at the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The usual hum of Lagos nightlife—the distant sound of sirens, the laughter of the rich and reckless, the honking of impatient drivers—felt muted tonight.

Her mind was elsewhere.

Honorable Emeka’s words wouldn’t leave her head.

“You owe me, Deòlu.”

She shut her eyes, gripping the stem of her wine glass tightly. She had laughed it off at the club, but she wasn’t laughing now.

Her phone vibrated on the glass table. She hesitated before reaching for it.

“DO IT OR PAY FOR YOUR PREVIOUS CRIMES. THE NGO ISN’T ENOUGH TO COVER YOUR DEBT.”

Deòlu exhaled slowly. So this was it.

There was no escaping the game. No running from the hands that had lifted her to the top. If she refused, Emeka would strip her of the protection that kept her untouchable.

The police would suddenly remember her name. The files they had buried would rise again.

And she knew Emeka. He didn’t bluff.

She couldn’t involve Sade. No, this wasn’t Sade’s burden to carry. This was her fight.

She drained the rest of her drink, reached for her phone, and dialed a number she had sworn she would never call.

It rang twice before a deep voice answered.

“Ah, Deòlu mi! This one that you’re calling me at this hour. I hope it’s good news.”

She forced a smile into her voice. “Of course, Senator. I was just thinking about our last meeting. I wanted to make it up to you.”

There was a pause. Then a chuckle. “I see. And how do you plan to do that?”

“Dinner. Just the two of us.”

A deep hum. “Tempting. When?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Another pause. “You always know how to pick the right time. I’ll send my car to pick you up.”

Deòlu licked her lips, forcing herself to relax. “I’ll be waiting.”

**

The next night, she dressed carefully—a black silk dress, high slit, plunging neckline. Hair sleek. Makeup flawless. She had to be irresistible, distracting.

At exactly 8 PM, a black SUV arrived at her penthouse. The bodyguards barely looked at her as she stepped inside.

At Senator Hassan’s mansion, she was searched as usual. No weapons, no hidden recording devices. They knew her well.

Or so they thought.

She entered the grand living room, where Hassan was waiting, dressed in a loose kaftan, a smug smile on his face.

“You look… breathtaking,” he said, his eyes running over her.

Deòlu smiled, stepping closer. “I try.”

Dinner was served—grilled fish, spicy rice, a bottle of his favorite scotch. She watched as the servants poured their drinks.

It had to be now.

She reached into her purse, fingers brushing against the tiny vial hidden inside.

Hassan was talking, laughing about something political. She wasn’t listening. She was watching. Waiting.

When his attention shifted, she moved. A few drops into his glass. Quick. Silent. Undetectable.

She leaned back, her heart pounding as he lifted the drink to his lips.

He swallowed.

She smiled.

It didn’t take long.

At first, he didn’t notice. He kept talking, his voice full of arrogance, his hands gesturing as he spoke. But then, his words slurred. His brow furrowed. He blinked, shaking his head slightly.

Then came the coughing.

He clutched his throat, eyes widening in confusion. His body jerked forward, hands scrambling at the table.

“W-what…” he gasped.

Deòlu remained seated, watching him struggle.

His breathing turned ragged. His lips parted as he tried to call for help, but no words came.

He fell to his knees.

His hands trembled violently as he reached toward her. Begging. Pleading.

Deòlu simply tilted her head.

She had seen men like him before—powerful, invincible, until they weren’t.

He collapsed onto his back, chest heaving. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

His eyes bulged in panic.

He wasn’t dying fast enough.

Deòlu sighed, standing to her feet. She walked over to where he lay on the floor, his body twitching.

His fingers weakly gripped her ankle.

She pulled away.

Reaching for a pillow from the couch, she knelt beside him.

His eyes widened further in terror as she placed it over his face.

He thrashed weakly.

His legs kicked once.

Then twice.

Then stillness.

Deòlu held the pillow in place for a moment longer, just to be sure.

Then, slowly, she lifted it away.

Silence.

She exhaled deeply, smoothing out her dress.

Now, it was time to leave.

Would she escape?