“You don’t look straight. You look like you wanna murder somebody.”
“I always look like that.”
“Nah, this is different.” Quest studied my face. “That woman is toxic, bro. Pure poison in a designer dress.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
We dapped up properly, falling into that easy rhythm we always had. Three brothers against the world. Against a mother who’d never loved us. Against a system that wanted us to fail.
“Business good?” Quest asked.
“Business is business. You?”
“Can’t complain. Got a meeting with some investors next week about the casino. Justice is supposed to be there but you know how he is.”
“I’ll be there,” Justice said. “Probably.”
“See what I mean?”
I almost smiled. Almost.
But my eyes kept drifting across the room.
To Zahara.
She was back at her table now, surrounded by people. A woman in a red gown was taking a selfie with one of the cinnamon rolls. A man in a suit was asking for her business card. Two servers were whispering to each other, pointing at the nearly empty trays.
She was almost out. In less than an hour.
My girl was killing it.
Pride swelled in my chest. Deep. Possessive. Primal.
That was my woman over there. Building her empire. Showing these people what she was made of.
And I’d helped her get here. Given her the kitchen. The opportunity. The belief in herself that nobody else had ever given her.
But underneath the pride was something heavier.
She’d heard Vivica. Heard about the prison.
I wasn’t sure if she knew I’d been locked. Don’t think I’d ever mentioned it.
Never told her about Tre.
About the padlock.
About the twelve-year-old boy I’d beaten to death because he wouldn’t stop talking shit and I didn’t know how to control the rage inside me.
I was gonna have to tell her everything.
About my past. About the monster I used to be before Rashid taught me control.
She deserved to know who she was really dealing with. Who she was sharing her bed with. Who she was letting around her son.
And once she knew?
I had no idea if she’d still look at me the same way.
