Book One of the Best Bet Series 🔥🔥🔥18+ Only!!!
"The best thing about panties is taking them off."
Adedayo Bankole is well-connected and popular. A 200 level student of the university of Lagos. Dayo is charming and beloved, an ardent player with...
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DAYO'S POV CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
Just like the night before, sleep didn't come easy for him. His mind wouldn't quiet, and when he finally drifted into a half-doze, a hand shook him awake. "Banks," a voice whispered urgently, accompanied by another shake.
His eyes cracked open, blurry and unfocused as he blinked off the remnants of sleep still clinging to his eyes. The room was dim, the first rays of sunlight spilling in and coating everything in gold. Instinctively, he turned toward Eniola's side of the bed, half expecting to see her curled up in the same fetal position she'd been in most of the night. But it was empty.
A low groan escaped him as he pushed up on his elbows. His eyes drifted toward the bathroom door, his head tilting slightly as he strained to hear any sound—water running, the shuffle of feet, anything to signal her presence. But the room was quiet, in an almost eerie way, save for the rough, unsteady sound of his breathing.
Before he could dwell on the emptiness, another shake, harder this time, snapped his attention upward. His bleary gaze locked on Omah, standing at the bedside with a troubled look. Troubled wasn't the word. Omah looked shaken, his face pale and his lips pressed into a grim line.
Omah hesitated before speaking, his hand flexing at his side. "Something is wrong with Eniola. She's—"
Dayo bolted out of bed, his heart rate picking up. "What do you mean? Where is she?"
Omah didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Dayo by the arm and pulled him out of the room with startling force. "Just...come with me," he said, urgently.
Dayo barely registered his own movements as he stumbled after Omah down the quiet hallway. They passed the stairs and out through the farmhouse door, the hot rays of the sun crawling on his skin.
"What the hell is going on?" Dayo demanded. His feet stumbled as Omah dragged him forward, but there was no response.
"Omah!" he barked, his tone harsher now. But Omah didn't so much as flinch. His grip on Dayo's arm tightened and his steps quickened as he led him toward a part of the farm Dayo had barely set foot on before.
Dayo spotted a clearing ahead, just beyond the far edge of the property, and heard the murmur of voices. Soon, he spotted the small crowd to which the voices belonged. Dread clawed at his insides as his mind went wild with a million possibilities, none of them favorable.
The path was overgrown with weeds and untended bushes, the dew-soaked grass whispering against the hem of his pants. "Omah, talk to me!" Dayo tried again, his voice faltering slightly now.
Fortunately, they broke through the final stretch of foliage into the clearing, and Omah stopped so suddenly that Dayo nearly collided with him.
"Is this girl mad? She's going to fall!" someone muttered harshly in Yoruba.
