His delivery was smooth, too smooth. The kind of answer you build long before the question ever comes.
“And you’ve been helping her?”
He looked away, staring at a spot on the wall. “She’s our daughter.”
“I don’t give a fuck if she’s your grandma. Y’all know exactly who she is and what she did. That bloodline shit don’t move me when my people are threatened.” My voice came out cold. “That’s when she fucked up.”
Mrs. Patterson flinched. Good. They needed to understand this wasn’t a negotiation.
“We know.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, hands folded in her lap. She looked like Cassie. Same eyes. Same bone structure. But where Cassie always looked at me with that desperate hunger, Mrs. Patterson just looked sad. Bone-deep sad. Tired. “We’ve been trying to get her to turn herself in. She won’t listen to us.”
I didn’t believe that shit, but I let her finish.
“She’s getting worse,” Mr. Patterson continued, finally looking at me. Finally showing some backbone. “Saying things that worry us. About you. About making some kind of statement and making sure you know she loves you.”
Something dark flickered in my expression. “What kind of statement?”
“We don’t know exactly. She won’t tell us the details. But she talks about you constantly. About how you’ll understand eventually. About how she just needs to show you the truth.” He paused, rubbing his hand over his face. “She’s not stable. She’s never been stable. We tried years ago. Therapy, medication, everything the doctors recommended. She’d go for a while, take the pills, and seem better. Then she’d just stop.”
“So you gave up, and she became my problem.”
The words came out flat. Not a question. An accusation.
“We didn’t know what else to do,” Mrs. Patterson said, something sharp creeping into her voice now. Defensive.
I let that sit for a second. Let them marinate in their own failure. Then I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and spoke in a tone that made them straighten up just to catch it.
“Can I tell you something about me?” I didn’t wait for an answer because I didn’t give a fuck if I could or not. “The league cleaned me up, taught me how to move in rooms like this without pulling pistols and shit.” I held Mr. Patterson’s gaze until he looked away. “But your daughter threatened my future wife. That woke up a part of me I thought ‘'d buried. I can’t go for that.”
Mrs. Patterson's face went pale. Mr. Patterson's hands tightened on his knees, knuckles going white.
“I’ve been patient. Been playing by the rules. Restraining orders, lawyers, all that legal shit. But here's what you need to understand—there’s two ways this ends. The legal way, or my way.”
Langston shifted beside me and dropped the duffel bag.
“Two hundred thousand. Half now. Half when she's in custody. You give the police the address. You cooperate with everything they need. She gets a good lawyer, real treatment, a chance to get right.” I paused. “Or I handle it the way I used to handle problems. And that doesn't end with therapy and second chances."
Mr. Patterson opened his mouth. I cut him off.
“Don't negotiate with me. Don't run off with my money. Don't ask for more time. Don't test me to see if I’m serious. Your daughter already made that mistake, and it cost her everything. You really want to find out what I’ll do to people who help her make another one?”
The room went dead quiet. Even Langston stopped moving.
Mrs. Patterson’s voice cracked. “We understand.”
“Good. Because if she comes after the woman I care about, if she so much as googles her name, I won’t be sitting in your living room having conversations. We clear?”
“Crystal,” Mr. Patterson whispered.
The threat wasn’t subtle. Wasn’t meant to be. I needed them to understand I wasn’t some soft celebrity they could play with. I was a man protecting his kingdom, and I’d do whatever was necessary.
And even as the words left my mouth, I felt something twist in my gut. This was exactly who Stetson raised me to be when it came to protecting your family and your reputation, handle your business, no questions asked. My mama knew exactly the kind of man Stetson Bryns was when she chose him, a man who handled shit, protected what was his, and didn’t apologize for it. She loved him harder because of it. I’d never forget the blueprint because Stetson had never missed a chance to step about or behind his Queen Stacia.
I never missed a chance to soak up his wisdom or watch him love my momma. I wanted that. I thought I’d be there already with Devyn, but life had other plans. I grew cold after that, but in the craziest of circumstances, the fire Cassie started seemed to thaw a nigga heart. It was the only reason I was here on some respectful shit.
Halo’s words were back in my head.What makes you different from Cassie?And sitting here, threatening people in their living room, using money and fear like weapons, I wasn’t sure I had a good answer anymore. Part of me still lived by that Riata Drive mentality, get them before they get you. I’d always have my own back first, no matter what.
However, the intent was different. Had to be. Cassie watched me because she couldn’t let go. I watched Halo because I couldn’t stay away. Because something about her pulled at me in a way I didn’t fully understand yet. But sitting here, it seemed Halo had a point. Maybe the line between protection and control was thinner than I wanted to admit.
