"Stop talkin', Noles," Juste snapped. He turned to Jules. "What you think?" Jules took a long pull from the blunt, smoke curlin around his face like a warnin sign. "I'm wit' lil brudda," he said calmly. "This shit ain't gon' stop unless we end it. All of it." Pierre raised his eyebrows. "Damn not you all in on this wild ass nigga plan."
Juste stared at the table for a long moment. "Y'all keep talkin' about eliminatin' people," he said finally, "but ain't nobody got a plan. And I ain't lettin' shit come back on us, especially not now."
He looked at me pointedly.
"I'll figure somethin' out," he muttered. I nodded, but inside That wasn't enough. Not for me.
Because while they were talkin' strategy I was thinkin' about Ayida. I didn't survive a coma to let the world chew her up. I didn't claw my way back to life just to sit on my hands while mutha fuckas tested limits. My love ain't gentle and It damn show ain't patient. My love destroyed threats before they become memories.
I picked my phone back up, rereading her last message.
Be home soon.
I clenched my jaw. The smoke hung in the room. Same way my thoughts kept circling, never clearing, just looping back on themselves until my temples throbbed.
Pierre leaned back against the counter, glass in his hand, eyes half-lidded like this was just another night of niggas talkin' shit. "Ju, you took your ass home yet?" Pierre asked, voice lazy. Jules rolled his neck slow, shoulders tense like he'd been carrying weight too long. "On some separate room shit, yeah." He nodded once. "Better that way for the kids and shit."
He took a pull from the blunt like it was oxygen. Pierre smacked his lips. "Nigga, you know y'all been fuckin'." That made me chuckle low in my chest before I could stop it. Short. Sharp. No humor in it.
Jules shot him a look. "Do you niggas not understand what's goin' on?" Jules said, rubbin his hand down his face like he was tryin' to wipe the whole situation away. "This ain't no lil shit, my nigga. And on top of that, this nigga Nash on someobsessive, weird-ass shit." Pierre raised an eyebrow. "You mean how that bitch Jade was, once upon a time?" The name sat wrong in the room.
The air shifted. I felt Jules stiffen before he even said anything. His jaw flexed. His nostrils flared. That name was old poison. You don't bring that bitch up unless you tryna stir somethin'. "Aye, man. This completely different," Jules snapped. "You can't even compare the two."
He shoved the blunt in my direction harder than he needed to. I caught it, fingers tight around it, and leaned back deeper in my chair. Different. Everybody say that when shit come back around and bite them in the ass.
Juste cut his eyes over at Jules, face unreadable, but I knew that look. That nigga was about family but that nigga also believed in right being right.
"Nigga, how it's different?" He asked calmly, which was worse than if he'd raised his voice. "Because I know you ain't about to sit up here and fix yo mouth to say this change how you feel about my niece." Jules' head snapped up. "What nigga? You don't love Juliana no more?" Juste continued, tone sharp now. "You pushin' her to the wayside?" The room went quiet.
Jules sat forward, hand on his chin, eyes dark. Ken "Nigga, the fuck you mean?" he said low. "Juliana is my baby. My last pea in the pod. I don't give a fuck what another nigga talkin' 'bout." His voice shook, not weak, but restrained. "If a mutha fucka try to tell me otherwise," he went on, "you gon' see a nigga I ain't been in a real long time. Chill with that bullshit, Jus."
I watched his demeanor while he talked. That's how I knew he meant it. Juste snatched the blunt out my hand mid-thought. "Well, nigga, fix what the fuck you got goin' then." I exhaled through my nose, jaw tightenin. Everybody always wanna talk about fixin shit like emotions don't bleed. Like pride don't rot. Like mutha fuckas didn't make messes they didn't know how to clean up. I leaned back, chair creakin under my weight.
"Look," I said, finally speakin up, voice steady but heavy. "I think all brudda tryna say is, for better or worse, you took them vows just like the rest of us did." Jules looked at me now. "She done stuck by you through your worst," I continued. "Why you can't stick by her through hers?"
The words hit the room and stayed there. Jules scoffed, grabbing his glass off the table. "So now all y'all niggas just on her cheatin' ass side? That's fucked up." Pierre laughed, shaking his head. "Nobody takin' her side, nigga. But you gotta respect the game." He leaned forward. "You started it. She just upped the score on yo ass without even tryin'. That's karma for that ass."
I laughed once, quick and humorless, dapin Pierre up as he reached for me. Jules wasn't amused. "So y'all bitch-ass niggas tellin' me," he said, eyes sharp now, "Juste, you tellin' me if Chiana pulled some shit like this, you gon' be all forgivin' and lovey-dovey?" Juste didn't even hesitate. "Nigga, please," he said, blowin smoke. "Me personally? I ain't givin' my wife no reason to try to get even wit' me." He shrugged. "I like home."
That made me laugh for real this time. "Fuck this nigga talkin' about?" I said, noddin. "I'm wit' him." Jules turned to Pierre. "P, you ain't said shit." Pierre shrugged. Calm. "Ain't shit to say," he replied. "I got a child my wife take care of like shebirthed. I fucked up and did that." He looked Jules dead in the eye. "If she decide to get even? I gotta respect it. To say I'm leavin her and this life we created behind it. Hell nawl. " Jules snorted. "Nigga, you full of shit."
"I never said I'd be happy about it," Pierre said evenly. "Or nice. I just said I gotta respect it." Jules waved us off, frustration pourin off him. "I ain't tryna hear this shit." He leaned back, rubbin his temples. "On the real, I keep prayin' this nigga Nash go on 'bout his business." His eyes lifted Hard. "I'm tellin' y'all, he got one more time to walk up on me and mine in public like that." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I'ma splat his brains right there. I'm dead serious."
I looked at Jules and saw Decision on his face that should've scares the room. Because I knew that look. I'd been livin' with it since the coma. That place where rage stopped shoutin' and started thinkin'. Where love turned into justification. Where lines was crossed and it was no lookin back. All I could think, standing there with smoke in my lungs and blood in my memory, Was that if Jules was ready to lose himself, Then Nash had already sealed his fate.
—
I woke up in the middle of the night to Ayida shakin' me. Hard. Urgent. My eyes flew open, chest tight like I'd been dropped back into that hospital bed. The room was dark, but I could feel her panic before I could see her face. "Noles, get up, On malè rivé."Something bad happened.she said lowly. That language always did somethin' to my nervous system. Made my blood spike. Made my brain flip a switch.
I sat straight up, heart slammin' against my ribs, hand shootin' out to grab her wrist on instinct. Groundin myself toher. "You okay?" I asked, voice rough, sleep still clingin' to my throat. She shook her head already movin', already gone. She stepped back from the bed, walked straight to the closet, hands trembling as she pulled on a pair of tights. "You need to answer your phone and get up, Noles. We gotta go."
That's when I heard That low, relentless vibration on the nightstand. Like a heartbeat that wasn't mine. I turned my head slow. Phone lit up the dark. Missed calls stacked on top of each other. Notifications bleedin into one another. 2:03 a.m. My jaw tightened. Before I could even grab it, it buzzed again and Pierre’s name flashed . I snatched the phone up and answered without thinkin'. "Wassam?" I said, already swingin' my legs off the bed. "Meet us at Ju house," Pierre said, voice tight. No jokes. No bullshit. "They woke up and Juliana was missin' out her bed, man." My chest dropped like the floor disappeared under me. "That nigga took her." Everything went quiet. "I'm on the way," I said. No questions.
I ended the call and stood up too fast, vision spottin' for half a second. My nostrils flared, breath comin' short and sharp like I'd just been punched. This nigga Nash. This crash-dummy-ass, obsessive, rotten-blooded bitch was the real definition of a fuck nigga. He kidnapped my niece, After he already tried to kill me. My Patience wasn't just dead, It had been buried.
I grabbed the sweats off the chair and yanked them on, hands movin' fast, violent. Shirt next. Shoes. Keys. Ayida was already at the door, hair fluffy and wild, eyes wide but focused. "You don't have to come," I said automatically, even though I knew she would. She looked at me like I'd insulted her. "I'm your wife, this is our family" she said quietly. "Where you go, I go." I didn't argue. Didn't have the time and honestly I didn't have the right. We were out the door in seconds. The night airhit me hard. My hands shook as I unlocked the car. I fetl anger pure and unfiltered rushin through my blood. We pulled off fast, tires spittin' gravel. Streetlights blurred as I hit the gas, knuckles white around the wheel.
My thoughts started crowdin' in. I swallowed hard, jaw clenchin' until it hurt. I felt Ayida lace her fingers with mine, squeezin' like she knew I was driftin' too far. It pulled me back for half a second, just enough to keep the car on the road.
