Then I heard her voice. Her actual voice. Not in my head. Not a memory. Real
close in my foyer.
“Where is Seth?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. Something inside me snapped. I stepped out the kitchen, the knife still in my hand. My body moved before my mind caught up.
There she was. Imani. Standing there like she had the right to be in my home. Looking nervous but not nervous enough. I saw red.
"Oh, you've lost your fucking mind," I growled, charging.
“I’ll take that,” Rich said, grabbing the knife from me mid run like he already knew what was about to happen.
But I didn’t need it. My fists would do just fine. Right. Left. Right. I don’t remember breathing. I don’t remember the yelling. I just remember the release. Blood hit my knuckles like it was me bleeding and, in a way, it was.
Because every punch was about more than Imani. It was every time I bit my tongue to keep the peace. Every time she showed up to cause trouble.
Every time she felt like she could question my position in my husband’s and S3 life.
They tried to pull me off her. Rich yelling my name and trying to hold me back, Southside laughing. But I wasn’t done. I couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until she felt what she’d done to me. Not until somebody in this house understood that I was done playing the cool wife. The quiet wife. The forgiving wife. Imani wasn’t the only one bleeding. Hers just showed right now.
“Ali,” Seth’s voice cut through the quiet as he walked into the bedroom where I was half-dressed, tugging at my shorts.
I didn’t even bother to hide my mood. I was happy to see my husband after two long ass days, but I was annoyed at what had just taking place a few hours ago. Imani got exactly what she was begging for, and honestly, I couldn’t give a damn how she felt. I spun around, giving Seth that stare that said not today.
He didn’t flinch. He never did. Instead, he pulled me into him like my anger didn’t scare him one bit, pressing his lips against mine. My bare breasts brushed his chest, and that tiny friction sent heat shooting down my body, even though I wanted to stay mad.
“I’ll handle Imani,” he murmured against my mouth, voice low and steady; the type of steady that always made me weak. “That’s the only time I’ll allow you to stoop to her level. I know you needed that, so I let you have it.”
Before I could open my mouth, his tongue was already sliding past my lips, claiming me like always. One second, I was standing, the next I was weightless in his arms, laid across the bed like he owned me. Leave it to Seth… chaos was all around us, and he still wanted me like breathing.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I said, interrupting our moment. I needed answers, I wanted to know what was going on.
“I’ll handle it; don’t worry,” he replied, trying to finish what he had started.
“Seth,” I said interrupting him again.
“It’s handled. Dre mom thought she could save her sons life by going to the police. They have nothing, they’ll never have anything. Some new detectives want to make a name for themselves and not get on board with the department. I’ll handle them like I’ll handle Dre and his moms. Stop worrying. Your husband got you.
“I’m ready for this to be over,” I said.
He froze, then looked at me with those eyes that carried both love and war. His hand wrapped tight around my throat, not to hurt, but to remind me who he was. His other hand lifted my leg high, and in one push he slid inside me like he’d been starving for me.
I gasped, but my body welcomed him because, mad or not, I couldn’t stay off him any more than he could stay off me. If it hadn’t been for the shooting, he would’ve been inside me right after I had Shiloh.
His thrusts grew rougher, each one a vow he didn’t know how to put into words. My chest tightened; not from the sex, but from the silent promise I felt in every stroke. He was telling me he’ll take care of things. That we would survive this. And God help me, I believed him.
He flipped me over fast, like his patience had burned out, entering me from behind. My back arched instinctively, my body bending to him like it always did. He smacked my ass once, hard, before gripping my waist tighter, pounding into me like I was his only therapy. Every thought in his head poured into me with each thrust, and I could feel his chaos unraveling.
“Look at me,” he growled, fisting my hair until I faced him.
Our lips crashed, messy, consuming. His tongue tangled with mine, and just before my body broke apart, he whispered, “I love you.”
We shattered together. His release filled me as mine drenched him, the kind of union that left no space between us. I collapsed face down on the sheets, my chest heaving. Seth lifted me like I was weightless, carrying me into the shower. The water rushed over us as he bathed me gently, every touch softer than the man the streets knew.
But when he dressed and laced his boots, I knew. He wasn’t done. That war outside wasn’t finished, and he was going back into it.
And all I could do was pray the man who just whispered “I love you” inside my ear would make it back to me and the boys.
