Y'an Sandane's cars trailed a captivating young woman, her face veiled, unaware of her own beauty.
"Take the shot," ordered one of the policemen. Aikuwa advanced, brandishing her gun as she sprinted toward the driver's car with one hand. An hour later, our engine roared to life. The car trembled, prompting the driver to halt. He turned around, a gentle smile on his face, then dashed away.
"Oh my god, we've lost her again," lamented one of the police officers.
---
Upon ordering a grand house, she was compelled to vacate. Babbane's residence was not the seller's fault; it couldn't be deemed Kudiba's home. Husbands within the hall greeted me warmly. Rising, she, though not tall, exuded charm without expensive attire or makeup. Removing the mask, she caressed her beautiful face, stood up, visited the restroom, shed her clothes, and prayed. I couldn't help but gaze at her stunning features—long hair, neat nails, neither short nor tall, slim, carrying a bag. As the scent of money lingered, I closed my bag, stowed it away, grabbed my laptop, and began searching.
"What's your game with this race? This is absurd. Without Maccefa, you won't catch him."
"I apologize, sir, but this cunning girl surprises us all. She doesn't toy with us, Sam; she doesn't spare Saidai."
"Enough! Silence, fools! Abun Kunya, the girl died at your window. Who is she? Who is her father, her daughter?"
Fatima Dahiru Funtua Bintu
Khaleesat Haidar
Mujahida Matar Malam
Sumayya Abdulkadir Takori
Ayusher Muhammad
Yusrah Musa Abubakar
Benaxir Omar
Binta Umar Abbale
Amnah El Yaqub
Sadee
Maman Alameen
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