“Start talking,” I instructed him.
“Robert wants his nephew dead!” Quincy groaned. “Shit, he wants them all dead, and he wants Corinthians back.”
“Back?” I questioned, and he nodded. “What the fuck do you mean by back?”
“Corinthians was Robert’s pet,” he answered. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s rich people’s shit. Shit way above my pay grade. All I know is something happened years ago with Corinthians and him.”
“She was his pet? Nigga, are you crazy?” I questioned him. “The shit you are saying is sick as fuck.”
“That nigga doesn’t care,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s obsessed with her. Has been for years. He even kidnapped the other girl at one point. It’s some shit with them rich folks.”
“So, this is about Corinthians?” I clarified, and he shook his head. “No, then what the fuck is going on, Quincy?”
“Robert wants Corinthians--”
“You said that part already!” I yelled. “Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me why the fuck we were dragged into this!”
“Because of your parents,” he mumbled. “Y’all parents crossed Robert. He said if he was going after one, he was going after everybody: Y’all, the DeCortes, St. Thomases, and Strongs. Y’all were tied together before y’all even realized it. Y’all parents did some fuck shit.” He started laughing and shaking his head. “For years, Robert has been plotting. He moved shit from the sidelines without y’all realizing it. He put niggas in places; the situation was always in his favor. He watched, plotted, and schemed all these years. Y’all are friends because of him. He did that shit.” He dropped his head back and smiled. “Since I was old enough to remember, I sat in meetings with my Pop, Robert, and Javien Sr. They plotted on y’all’s downfall for years.” He closed his eyes. “Played chess while you niggas played checkers. They didn’t care who they had to hurt, kill, or make an enemy for it to work.” He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and looked at Xoey. “You killing Xierra wasn’t a part of the plan, though. That was the only thing that he didn’t see coming, but he learned andadapted. Nothing else surprised him.” He looked at me. “Yale was supposed to die in that wreck, shit, y’all both were supposed to, but when y’all lived, Robert decided to switch it up. He knew how much Tulane loved his daughters, so he wanted another one at his fingertips. Her marrying Grant was the next best thing, and we knew you’d do whatever it took to save your precious Sunshine, so we put you on the team. He got two for the price of one because of your pride. Had you gone to your big brothers over there for the money instead of agreeing to a fuck ass deal, you would’ve been killed, and Yale would be on the stroll making money.”
“Fuck nigga.” I moved towards him, but Citrine pulled me back. “Let me go.”
“Let him keep talking. The delirium from the pain is how we are getting answers,” Citrine said, shaking his head. Once I calmed down, I nodded, and he let me go.
“Robert had Javien Sr. go into debt and then offer up Jr. to Pyrite. His money-hungry ass wasn’t going to chance losing money, so he jumped at the opportunity. Citrine was stuck on Ta’lon, but that bitch had bigger plans.”
“Your wife fucked with a real nigga, and you couldn’t handle it?” Citrine taunted him.
“That marriage was in name only,” he said, shaking his head. “I never touched Ta’lon. She and her bitch ass best friend made sure of that. When she got bored with Citrine, she ran right to her, begging for her to have Robert pull her from dealing with Citrine, and because Robert can’t say no to pussy, he agreed. Ta’lon went on with her life as her best friend’s fucking lapdog. I never loved Ta’lon; she was just a replacement for the woman I wanted.”
“Where is Robert?” I asked him.
“Watching,” he chuckled and shrugged. “I knew you niggas were coming. It was only a matter of time. You’d knocked off myentire family. I was counting my days.” He shook his head. “If it weren’t you, it would’ve been one of the Strongs or DeCortes.” He looked at Xoey and smiled. “You wouldn’t have done it, though, Xoey. You’re too damaged. Too fragile. Too weak.” I expected Xoey to react, but she didn’t. She sat watching Quincy with an unreadable expression. “Ain’t that what you cried that night?” he laughed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s what you cried.”
“Quincy!” I called his name to get his attention. I didn’t like how he was looking or talking to Xoey.
“I’m scared; somebody help me. I can’t!” He mocked Xoey. His eyes were empty as he stared at her. “The big bad Xoey St. Thomas isn’t shit, but a little girl curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, pissy and scared.” He tilted his head to the side. “Ain’t that right, Xoey?” he laughed when she looked away.
I stepped into his line of vision and stared down at him. “Anything you want to tell us before I kill you?”
“Nah,” Quincy said, shaking his head. “I made peace with my death. Kill me.”
Headlights flashed through the front window, and I turned to see who was pulling up. I approached the front door and looked through the peephole to see Psalms and Corinthians walking toward it.
“What are y’all doing here?” I asked after I opened the door.
“We aren’t here for you,” Psalms said, shaking her head. They walked into the house, and I closed the door behind them.
“How did y’all know we were here?” I asked.
“Nine,” Psalms answered.
“Oh, look,” Quincy chuckled, then licked his lips as he watched Corinthians. “They let you off your leash, huh?” He had the nerve to smile at Corinthians as if it were a friendly meet-up. He looked over at me. “Do you know what they had her doing as a child? Shit was crazy. I’ve seen her in action in person. They created a fucking killing machine out of her. Hell, out of both ofthem.” He nodded at Psalms. “She was a little different, though. Not as focused as her sister, so they used that against her. Every time Psalms said no or couldn’t do it, Corinthians had to.” His smile got bigger. “I’ve seen her do some crazy shit.” His smile dropped, and he glared at Corinthians. “Why didn’t you stay? He would’ve given you anything! He begged you! Cried for you! But you didn’t stay! Why didn’t you stay?”
“Because I’m not a fucking monster!” Corinthians yelled. “I’m not the fucking monster he wanted me to be.”
“Yes, you were!” He fought against the restraints as much as he could. The only way he wasn’t feeling his injuries was from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You were beautiful. Magical! You didn’t have to pick Uri! You could’ve stayed!”
Psalms stepped forward, but Corinthians grabbed her arm to stop her.
