Princess
Sunday | 10:45pm
I could barelykeep up, glasses slipping down my face. Nyce had a death grip on my wrist, dragging me through the final stretch of the underground tunnel like I wasn’t damn near stumbling every few steps. The rats terrified me and the smell almost made me throw the hell up.
As the slides I wore slapped against the concrete, echoing loudly in the narrow passage, I just kept praying,Lord, don’t let me fall in this murky water.Soon, the air shifted as we emerged into a massive garage.
The rush of cool air slapped me in the face, mixing with the thick scent of oil, rubber, and musty concrete. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a pale glow over the space. The echo of our footsteps bounced off every wall.
“Where are we?” I snapped, yanking at his grip. His jaw clenched tighter. “Nyce!” I twisted harder.
“Move,” he barked.
I gritted my teeth, fire bubbling in my chest, my hands shaking with fear. He wasn’t answering me, and I was scared for my life. I still hadn’t processed the kiss we shared or the slap I delivered to his beautifully scary face. Now I was being dragged through an empty parking garage like a prisoner. My gut twisted as I realized this wasn’t just any lot. It was too empty, too secluded.
I stopped in my tracks, yanking back when we reached a parked car. “Are you serious?” I choked out, taking in the chipped paint, fogged windows, and rusty edges. “We’re riding in that?”
Nyce didn’t even blink. “Get in the car, Princess.”
“No! Where are we going? What the hell is going on?!” I took a step back, voice rising.
His patience snapped. In seconds, he had me pinned to the wall. “Get in the car, Princess. And please, shut up.” He let go, grabbed the key from under the bumper, unlocked the trunk, pulled out a duffle bag, and slammed it closed. Seeing me unmoved, he yelled, “Get in the fucking car!”
My heart jumped into my throat as I quickly moved and slid into the passenger seat, hands trembling. He rounded the car, jumped in, and unzipped the duffle bag to reveal a shitload of guns. My breath caught as he grabbed one, made sure it was locked and loaded, then dropped it onto his lap before tossing the bag into the back seat. The engine sputtered like it hadn’t been started in years, then came to life with a low rumble. He threw it into drive and peeled out of the garage without another word.
The silence in the car was thick. I stared at my lap, fidgeting with my cropped hoodie. The gunfire replayed in my head like a loop. Throat dry, I whispered, “Where are we going?” No answer. I turned, “You can’t just ignore me!”
Then, a ringing came from the backseat, and I watched as he kept one hand on the steering wheel while reaching into theduffle bag. He pulled out the oldest-looking cell phone I’d ever seen and pushed one button.
“Talk to me,” he said.
A voice I recognized as Crook’s came through the speakers, and it was… different. “We fucking lost Jermaine.”
My blood ran cold. Nyce gripped the wheel, knuckles pale. He exhaled. “How bad?”
“Bad,” Crook said. His voice cracked. “They lit him up. He went down quickly, but he took two of ‘em with him. Nyce, this shit was surgical. Military-type shit. This wasn’t street niggas.”
Nyce’s jaw flexed.
“Cops,” Crook added. “Or somebody moving like ‘em. Found a police issued SIG by the back gate.”
Police?My head spun. My stomach dropped, panic rising as I tried to focus on what this meant.
Nyce slammed his fist against the wheel, making me jump. “Fuck!” The sound echoed through the car, sharp and final.
“What’s the move?” Crook asked.
Nyce’s voice dropped into something icy. “Follow protocol. Hit me.” He ended the call, and I just stared at him. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“Please. What is going on?” My voice shook as I looked around, searching his face for answers.
His jaw ticked as his hands tightened on the wheel again. “Shut up, Princess.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t need your fucking questions,” he snapped, speeding up. “Sit back and let me think.”
I curled away from him, my chest rising and falling fast, fingers digging into my arms for comfort. I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to cry. But I did none of those things. Instead, I folded my arms and stared out the window, body tense and mind whirling. Everything around me felt hazy, like a nightmare I hadn’t fully woken from. Minutes passed, and then Nyce picked up the phone again, pressed a number, and put the call on speaker. It barely rang once.
