I frown.
“Ay. Where you going? You think you just gon’ leave me? Nope. That’s not how this works. I cut yo’ dick. We go together. Real bad.” I whip around, grab my dagger, and hurl it across the room. It flies over his shoulder and embeds in the wall. He stills. “I almost nicked you but decided against it. This is about punishment, not reward.”
His shoulders damn near hover below his ears. Then he turns and faces me. Gotdamn. Thenothingnessof his expression only emphasizes the gray blue of his eyes. And in those eyes? Hatred. A promise of agonizing pain. Of death.
Yeah, I might’ve pushed him too far with that one. But ask me if I give a fuck. He’s mine. He just don’t know it yet.
“Go ahead and walk out that door, and do it knowing I’m not worried about you coming for me. It’s ‘if I don’t see you first’ in this bitch. See you soon, Huntsman.” I wiggle my fingers at him in a little wave goodbye.
He stares at me for a long moment, and maybe I’m projecting, but he’s probably imagining all the different ways he can take me out. A shiver runs through me, and part of me wants to ask him to run the list down like a bedtime story. Or pillow talk.
Finally, he silently turns, shoves the door open, and moves out into the garage, quietly shutting the door behind him. Leaving me alone in my den with my damaged wall and the scent of leather, gun oil, and sun-kissed skin behind him.
Slowly, a smile curves my lips.
The man threatened me. By rights I should be headed to the safe behind my closet wall and arming myself to the teeth and calling in all manner of reinforcements.
Instead of calling Tera and letting her know I’m good and she can turn around, I’m standing here, grinning. Anticipating the next time we see each other. The next time I’m in his sights.
He promised to kill me.
I can’t wait.
CHAPTER SIXEshe
The wind rushes past me as I bend low over my ’Busa, the motorcycle hugging the curve in the road bordered by the towering trees, their leaves changing colors with the advent of fall. Though the family’s main headquarters for business is downtown Boston, the obodo—or the Mwuaji compound—is located in the quiet, picturesque suburb of Needham. Close enough to Boston where the city is easily accessible, but far enough away where the sprawled, mansion-like multipurpose complex is secluded and secure and surrounded by acres of land.
In minutes, I pull up to the tall iron gates with the elegantMembossed in the middle of each wide door. Leaning forward, I punch in a code and then place my palm on the scanner. Seconds later, the gates slowly open, and once they’re just wide enough for me to fit through, I pull in, traveling up the long drive at a speed that’s probably too fast and unwise. But I don’t care. Every time I arrive here, ephemeral yet adamantium-strong shackles wrap around me, chaining me to this place. Stripping me of my freedom, of my choice. Of my voice. More and more I lose memory of when I was happy here, when I was carefree and… safe here.
In too short a time, the elaborate, expansive building that’s the real heart of the Mwuaji family comes into view. In spite of my antipathy toward it, there’s no denying its beauty. Marble white, it glistens like a huge jewel under the late-afternoon sun. Tall, proud columns line the front of the structure, black diamondsembedded like tears. The family coat of arms decorates each mammoth arched door—four squares with a panther, an ichthys, the baobab tree, and an apple. Ferocity, feminine power, family, and wisdom. The tenets we hold as sacred. Diamond-encrusted black shutters bracket the many windows adorning the front and sides of the walls. It’s a testimony to the wealth of our family, the pride of it.
I park my motorcycle in front of the short marble flight of steps, even though Abena forbids vehicles barring the front of the building. She, of all people, don’t get to tell me what to do. And I dare anyone to touch my shit. They not crazy.
Unlike me.
Just as I slip my phone from the pocket of my motorcycle jacket to send off a quick message to the Seven to let them know I’m here, the doors open, and they file out. I don’t wonder how they knew I arrived. Given Nef’s affinity for all things tech, she no doubt hit them up as soon as I drove through the gate. Ol’ girl’s been hacking into the obodo’s security system since she was fifteen.
Tera, Penn, Tyeesha, Kenya, Maura, Nef, and Sienna descend the steps and form a circle around my bike. Without me having to say a word, they show up for me. It isn’t about them being my personal guard. At least not all about that. It’s about love, sisterhood, loyalty. The kind of loyalty Abena has never experienced and will never know from the people she surrounds herself with.
“You about to go up in here and start some shit. I can see it all over your face,” Tera mutters. Yeah, she might sound like she’s complaining, but that gleam in her eyes tells a different story. My girl would welcome some shit popping off.
I grin, neither confirming nor denying her accusation. C’mon though. I definitely plan to go in there and cut the fuck up.
I tilt my head, squinting at them. Stepping forward, I reach out and touch the necklace hanging around Penn’s neck. A gold and diamond-encrusted pendant in the shape of an apple rests just between her breasts. All of them wear identical pieces.
“This is new.”
Penn sucks her teeth. “Yeah, it is. A few days ago, Abena gifted all the kapteni these necklaces. We’re supposed to wear them at all times.”
“Seriously?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Seriously,” all seven say like a chorus.
That’s some shit. Abena isn’t known for her generosity. Knowing her, the necklaces probably have bombs embedded in them.
“Hey, Tera told us about your run-in with the Huntsman at the cabin,” Nef says in that even, damn-near-flat tone that gives nothing away. And unlike Tera, her eyes don’t either. If we were going on a moonlit bike ride through the countryside or about to commit mass murder, she wouldn’t show emotion one way or the other about either activity.
We’re all sociopaths hereshould be our motto. Ooh. Maybe I could get us matching T-shirts and Glocks with that printed and engraved on them for Christmas.
