“And carrying it? You dropped it. Right on me. Right on my womb after it failed us.” She pressed her palm to her chest, chain rattling, breath unsteady.‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…’The verse slid from her lips like second nature, but her eyes stayed hard. “You left me to die in that valley alone.”
The words sliced me open because they were the truth I’d been duking and dodging since the night I left. The rain hit harder, drumming the silence between us, while headlights from passing cars smeared the street in streaks of gold and red.
The rain smacked my shoulders. “I thought leaving would save you from more pain,” I muttered, voice shaking with guilt. “All I saw was what I broke?—”
“You brokeme,Ro!” Her voice spiked sharp enough to make a couple heads turn from the shop windows. She stepped closer, her curves grounded like a storm anchor. “I didn’t need saving. I needed you. But you were too busy being scared of my grief when it should’ve been our grief.”
“I came back for you,” I finally stated, voice a growl in my throat, heavy with every vow I’d buried. “I came back to make it right.”
I felt the sting in my throat, like the rain was sliding down from the inside out. “You think I didn’t bleed too? You think I didn’t bury our baby every damn night since?”
Her whisper came like a knife, trembling but steady. “Then why wasn’t I enough reason to stay?”
Nova’s laugh came out bitter, broken, carried on the rain. “Your wife?” She shook her head. “Wives don’t stand outside soul food spots watching their husbands pull up on the set with somebody else. Wives don’t get left choking on silence while their man finds peace in another city. You forfeited that title when you chose running over fighting.”
Lightning split the sky above us, white flash spilling across her wet face, streaking her cheeks with light and rain that looked too much like tears.
I stepped in closer, voice hoarse. “I didn’t come back for peace. I came back for war if that’s what it takes. War with the Crest, war with Trigger, war with myself. And I came back for you, Nova Rae. You. My Nova Star.”
Her lips parted, breath hitching, scripture barely audible as she whispered under it,‘Be still, and know that I am God…’But her eyes? They weren’t still at all. They blazed, searching me for truth I wasn’t sure I could prove anymore.
She shook her head slow, drops falling from her curls like shattered glass. “No, Ro. You came back because Lyon Crest called your name. But I’m not the same girl you left standing on that porch. I’m a mother now. I’m a woman who don’t bend easy. So, if you plan on standing in front of me again—you better come correct. Or don’t come at all.
For a heartbeat, it was just us—the rain, the ghosts, the vow still burning under our skin.
Then she stepped back, shaking her head, water flying from her curls. “You want war, Ro? Fine. But don’t mistake me for the prize. I’m the battlefield, Roman. And if you’re not ready to bleed here, you better ride back out that gate and never look back.”
The rain didn’t warn us—just split open. The kind of Lyon Crest rain that comes down hard enough to wash secrets out of alleyways. A low rumble crawled up the block, deep as thunder but sharper, meaner. Headlights cut through the mist one by one until the sound became a chorus of pipes—chrome and muscle crawling toward us like wolves closing in.
They came slow, two by two. Black leather slicked from the downpour, patches dark but visible, engines snarling at idle. The first bike stopped so close its front tire brushed the curb water, steam hissing from the pipes.
Trigger wasn’t there, but his shadow was—Prospects and patched brothers flanking, scanning like hawks. A shotgun swung low off one rider’s back, not hidden, just there. Nobody spoke. The sound of dripping rain and that wall of exhaust filled the street like warning bells.
Nova didn’t flinch. She squared her shoulders and gripped her chain like armor. I stepped in front of her out of instinct, my body screaming protection even as guilt coiled in my gut.
“Welcome home party?” she spat, eyes slicing the line of bikes.
One rider killed his engine. The quiet was deafening. “Word travels fast,” he muttered, visor down, voice muffled.
Another bike backfired sharp, echoing off the storefronts. A few pedestrians ducked back under awnings, knowing better than to linger.
I knew this was no greeting. It was a message. And every rumble in those pipes said:We see you. We see her.
My eyes never left Tigger’s as he attempted to intimidate me, but my stance wasn’t wavering. The Crest may not be big enough for both of us, but he would soon know that I wasn’t leaving.
Nova’s presence brought be back to reality. Her words hung like smoke in the wet night, and before I could answer She back away slowly, leaving the words she’d just spit to linger in front of me. I watched the sway of her hips… they weren’t because of me anymore—it was because of her fire, her independence, her warning. I watched as she continued backing away like she was scared to turn her back to me. She didn’t trust me. She watched all of us. That shit hurt watching in real time. She pushed past the door of Cruz’s Soul Food, and the bell clanged again, not like a welcome—but like a gun cocked.
And just like that, I knew—the Crest wasn’t just testing me with enemies. It was testing me with the one woman who could still burn me down to ash.
Trigger let out a sinister chuckle, “You’ve out done yourself this time, Saint less. Saint gone get your wife right. Trust it.” His ego could be smelled a mile away, but I wasn’t taking the bait. Not right here… not now.
Trigger turned cranking his bike back up, and they all peeled out two by two. Perfect formation. That was one of those things that you never forget.
Tarnesha’s arms stayed crossed tight, braids plastered to her cheeks from the rain, but I caught the flicker of the hurt in her eyes. She wasn’t built for Crest politics; she didn’t understand how heavy history sat on every sidewalk crack. She’d followed me across state lines, trusted my lead, and now I’d dragged her into ghosts she didn’t sign up to fight. I felt her judgment, but worse than that, I felt her confusion—and I had no words to give her.
Nova’s fire still lingered in the air, thick as the rain sliding down the glass of Cruz’s Soul Food. The bell over the door clanged behind her.
She didn’t just leave—she backed away, curls soaked, chain flashing under the streetlight every time her hand gripped it like she needed that vow to hold her steady. The rain caught her leather jacket, tracing every curve like the city itself couldn’t resist her.
