And saw us.
The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the hardwood with a crack. A tiny voice was still yapping on the other end, but India couldn’t hear it. She was frozen solid, eyes wide, mouth hanging open like she’d seen a ghost.
Nah, baby. Ghosts can’t hurt you.
We can.
“Have a seat, India.” I gestured to the dining chair Quest had pulled into the middle of the living room. “We need to have a conversation.”
“How did you— this is— I’m calling the police—” She scrambled for her phone, but Quest was faster. He kicked it across the floor, then grabbed her arm and guided her—not gently—toward the chair.
“You’re not calling anybody,” he said pleasantly. “Sit down.”
She sat. Not because she wanted to, but because she understood, maybe for the first time, that she wasn’t in control anymore.
I pulled up a chair across from her. Close enough that our knees were almost touching. Close enough that she could seeevery scar, every hard line in my face, every ounce of violence I was holding back.
“You made some phone calls a few weeks ago,” I said, keeping my voice calm. Conversational. Like we were discussing the weather. “To the LAPD. To the District Attorney’s office in Los Angeles. To a detective named Morrison. You remember those calls, India?”
Her face went gray. Actually gray, like somebody had drained the blood right out of her.
“I don’t know what you’re?—”
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp enough to cut. “Don’t insult me by lying. I’ve got the phone records. I know exactly what you did.”
She started trembling. Good.
“Because of those calls,” I continued, “my woman got arrested. Dragged out of her own bakery—the business she built from nothing—in handcuffs. In front of her employees. In front of customers. Put in a cell like a common criminal for a murder she didn’t commit.” I leaned closer. “She’s pregnant, India. With my child. And you had her locked up like an animal. You and Vivica. You did that.”
The tears started falling. I didn’t give a fuck.
“I was just following orders!” she sobbed. “Vivica told me to make the calls! She said if I didn’t, she’d?—”
“I don’t care.”
“She threatened my job! My reputation! She said she’d destroy me if I didn’t?—”
“I. Don’t. Care.” Each word hit like a bullet. “You had a choice. You could’ve said no. You could’ve warned us. You could’ve done literally anything except ruin an innocent woman’s life. But you didn’t. You followed orders like a good little soldier, and now you gotta deal with the consequences.”
“What do you want?” she whispered. “Money? I have money. I can pay you?—”
“I don’t want your money.” I sat back, letting the silence stretch. Letting her marinate in her own fear. “I want you to understand something, India. When you made those calls, you declared war on my family. And I don’t lose wars.”
Quest shifted by the window, arms crossed, watching with cold amusement.
“So here’s how this is gonna go,” I said. “You’ve got two options. Door number one: you die. Tonight. Right here in this pretty apartment. We’ll make it look like Vivica did it—crime of passion, lover’s quarrel, jealousy over some imaginary affair. The evidence will be airtight. She’ll spend the rest of her miserable life in prison for murdering the woman she loved.”
India was sobbing so hard now she could barely breathe.
“Door number two: you disappear. Fake your death. Leave the country and never, ever come back. We’ll help you set it up—new identity, new passport, a job teaching English in Cambodia or wherever the fuck you want to go. Somewhere Vivica will never find you. We’ll even give you seed money to get started. Enough to build a new life.”
“And Vivica?” she choked out.
“Still goes down for your murder. Either way, her career is over. Her freedom is over. Everything she built comes crashing down.” I shrugged. “The only difference is whether you’re alive to see it happen.”
India shook her head frantically, tears and snot running down her face. “I can’t— I can’t just leave everything— my life is here?—”
“Your life is over either way.” I pulled my knife from my waistband. Let the blade catch the dying sunlight. Watched her eyes go wide with pure, animal terror. “The only question is whether you’re still breathing when the credits roll.”
