The words hang there, raw and exposed. For a moment, I think I’ve crossed a line that can’t be repaired.
He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t argue. He just looks at me, his face carefully blank.
“I didn’t think so,” I say quietly, the fight draining out of me. “I didn’t come here to debate you. And I didn’t come for your approval. I came to tell you my choice.”
He stands, the movement abrupt. His presence fills the room.
“If you walk out now,” he says, “don’t expect me to welcome you back when he breaks you.”
Heat stings behind my eyes, but I refuse to let it spill.
“You don’t know him,” I say, softer now. “You don’t even want to.”
“And you don’t understand what you’re risking.”
“Maybe not,” I say. “But it’s mine to risk.”
I turn before he can say anything else. The door shuts hard behind me, the sound echoing down the hall. I standthere for a moment, breathing through the surge of anger, fear, and something heavier that settles deep in my chest.
I’ve made my choice.
And as I walk out of the house that has been both refuge and cage, I know one truth won’t change, no matter what Laurent believes.
I will always be a Boudreaux.
Indigo Blue buzzes with life.The air carries the sharp tang of liquor and the low thrum of a bass line that vibrates through my chest, steady and relentless.
Iggy leans against the bar with casual entitlement, a sly grin tugging at his mouth as he nurses a brightly-colored cocktail and tries to catch the attention of a girl a few stools down. Her outfit and the tight knot of friends around her mark Loyola undergrad. Iggy watches like he belongs there, even though he never quite does.
Delphine sits beside me, composed as ever. Her gaze flicks between Iggy and me, sharp and assessing. She knows I met with my father earlier, but I asked her not to bring it up. Tonight is supposed to be about distraction. About staying upright.
“You’re looking good these days, Coco,” Iggy says, voice light, amused. “Guess love does wonders.”
I narrow my eyes, already bracing. “What do you want, Iggy? Shoo.”
He laughs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Easy. I’m just pointing out something interesting. You’ve always been vocal about fentanyl. How it’s poison. How it ruins everything it touches.”
“Yeah, so? You thinking about trying it?”
His eyes flick to mine. “Nope. Just thought you mightwant to know, your man is tied to a shipment that’s drawing a lot of attention from people who watch these things. And word is it’s fentanyl.”
The words knock the air out of me. For a second, I just stare at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Iggy arches a brow, feigning surprise.
“You didn’t know? Two weeks out, which means it’s already halfway here. Straight from overseas, and Stone Intermodal controls the port of entry.” His mouth curves, sharp and satisfied. “Your boyfriend is about to make a killing, in every sense of the word.”
The room tilts. I grip the edge of the bar, the polished surface slick beneath my fingers. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Iggy leans in, the grin fading. “Come on, Coco. I don’t invent this kind of shit. I’m honestly shocked you didn’t hear. It’s been floating around the docks for a couple of days.”
My pulse spikes, but I don’t want Iggy to know how much this affects me.
“You’re saying a lot tonight,” I snap. “Why are you being such an asshole to me?”
He shrugs, all false innocence. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I honestly was just surprised you were letting that fly. Ridge isn’t different, he’s just better dressed.”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
