Chapter 16: The Hollow

The first week after Kessie’s death, Ayo functioned.

That was the only word for it. Functioned.

She trained her warriors. Completed assignments. Filed reports. Ate when food was placed in front of her. Slept when exhaustion forced it.

Moved through the world like a weapon someone else wielded.

Chika tried to talk to her. Once.

“Ayo. You need to—you should talk about—”

“No.”

“You’re not processing—”

“There’s nothing to process. She’s dead. I’m alive. Mission continues.” Ayo’s voice was flat. “Is there something tactical you need to discuss? If not, I have work.”

Chika left. Didn’t try again.

Nala watched but said nothing. Because Ayo was performing flawlessly. More efficiently than ever, actually. No distractions. No emotional complications. Just cold, perfect execution.

Exactly what they’d always wanted.

At night, alone in the barracks, Ayo would lie on her mat and try to remember.

Try to bring back the last night with Kessie. The way she’d looked. The things she’d said. The feel of her hands, her mouth, her body.

But the memories wouldn’t hold. Wouldn’t stay clear.

She’d close her eyes and reach for them—

Kessie’s face in the lamplight. Or was that a different night? Months ago?

Her hands. Definitely her hands. Where had they been? On Ayo’s face? Her back? She couldn’t—

Something Kessie had said. Important. Something about promises. What was it?

“Promise me you’ll—”

What? Promise what?

The sensation of being touched. Being held. But when? That last night? Or earlier? Or was she inventing it, filling in gaps with what should have been there?

She remembered heat. Connection. The feeling of mattering to someone.

But the details—the specific moments that made it real—those were already slipping away.

Like trying to hold smoke. The harder she grasped, the more it dispersed.

She remembered there had been love. She remembered feeling it.

But increasingly, it felt like something that had happened to a different person. Someone younger. Softer. Someone who didn’t exist anymore.

Ayo would open her eyes. Breathing hard. Chest tight. Feeling the absence like a physical wound.

But unable to remember clearly what she’d lost.

Just that it was gone. And she was alone. And the woman who’d loved her was ash and scattered wind.

She stopped trying to remember after a few days. It hurt too much. The reaching for something that wouldn’t solidify. The knowledge that even the memories were being taken from her.

Better to feel nothing. Better to be stone.

At least stone didn’t break when you couldn’t remember what you’d lost.

Three Weeks Later - First Battle Since

Ayo led sixty warriors on a raid. Standard operation. Oyo village. Capture captives. Burn what remained.

She’d done this hundreds of times. This one was no different.

Except it was. Because Kessie wasn’t there. Would never be there again.

The raid went smoothly. Ayo’s command was flawless. Objectives achieved. Minimal casualties. Perfect execution.

When it was over, standing in the burning village, covered in blood, Ayo felt the familiar post-battle sensation.

Adrenaline. Survival high. The body’s response to violence and near-death.

And underneath it—the arousal. The need for release. The confusion of violence and sex that she’d learned from Kessie.

But Kessie was gone.

And Ayo needed—something. Needed to discharge the energy screaming through her system. Needed to feel something other than hollow.

She saw Ife. Young warrior. Maybe twenty-two. Competent fighter. Pretty, in a hard-edged way.

Ayo approached her. “Come with me.”

Not a request. A command.

Ife blinked. “Commander?”

“Now.”

They found an empty hut on the village’s edge. Away from the other warriors.

Ayo didn’t speak. Just pushed Ife against the wall. Kissed her. Hard. Demanding.

Ife responded—surprised but willing. “Commander, what—”