I swallowed the knot rising in my throat. This was the kind of shit meant for my couch lady. I wasn't equipped to fix Honor, but I wasn't leaving him alone in it either.
"There's still you. The nigga who stood between Lucian and a couple of boys who were ready to give up. The brother who took every hit so we could stand up straight."
I paused to choose my next set of words carefully.
"But you gotta stop deciding you're the only one strong enough to suffer."
Honor nodded and, in this moment, standing in the mill, I realized something that hurt worse than anything he'd confessed. Honor didn't just protect us from Lucian. He protected us fromhimself,from the rage he kept caged behind discipline, from the fear that dictated his decisions, andfrom the man he was scared he'd become if he ever let the control slip.He wore control like armor, convinced that if he stayed necessary, stayed needed, the damage would stop with him. That if he carried it alone, none of it would spill into the lives of the people he loved. However, all that shit did was teach him how to suffer quietly, how to bleed without asking for help, and how to turn love into duty and pain into purpose. And looking at him now, head bowed, shoulders heavy, I understood the cruelest part of it all.Honor wasn't afraid of Lucian. He was afraid of becoming him.
"I don't say this shit enough," he muttered. Honor wiped his face with the heel of his palm, shaking his head as if he were embarrassed by the moment, like vulnerability still feltunfamiliar to him. "But you're my brother. There's no blood thicker than what we survived."
"I know," I affirmed. "I love you, nigga."
"I love you too, Crown."
That was it. No theatrics or speeches. Just truth. I exhaled slowly, nodding once like I was sealing something inside myself. Then the warmth faded, and something colder took its place.
"Lucian's gotta die," I declared.
Honor didn't flinch.
"It's already in the works," he replied calmly, like he'd been carrying that plan longer than the grief.
"I want in."
Honor studied me, not as a shield but as a brother weighing the cost.
"This can't get outta hand," he finally said. "It can't be sloppy, and it can't reach Navy, Chosyn, River, or Wolfe. Everybody's gotta stay safe and out of the way if we're gon' pull this off."
"It won't," I said without hesitation. "This stays between us… on one condition."
"What?"
"You gotta go see my couch lady. I won't say much, but that stunt you pulled in my basement isn't lost on me. You go see her, and what we 'bout to do stays between us."
Honor held my stare a second longer, then nodded.
"Ight," he agreed. "Set up the appointment, and I'm there. But once you step in this shit with me… there's no stepping out."
A slow grin tugged at my mouth.
"I been standing in the fire since I met you. I just didn't know who lit the match," I exhaled. "Now that I do… I'm ready to choke a nigga with his own smoke."
Honor's lips curved. "Fuck it, let's put it out."
Navy Achebe
When Chris Brownsaidthere's something in this liquor,he wasn't lying. Most nights, wine was my drink of choice. However, tonight, the girls were feeding me shots of 1942. The liquor mixed with a splash of Chosyn's Zenade that I didn't even know was available in Honor's club had me floating. Light, warm, and untethered, I felt free.
The music wasn't just playing. It was bleeding into me, rolling through my veins like a blooming high. The bass thudded against my skin, and my hips swayed, moving on their own. I tossed my ponytail left, then right, giggling as the room tilted with it. Honey wrapped an extra bundle around my ponytail for this exact moment, giving it enough length for me to toss seductively. It dragged along my back as I moved, grazing low, tickling the soft spot where my spine dipped. Every brush sent a shiver through me, feeding the yearning the liquor made worse. My body felt loose, my mind empty of everything exhausting, and my pussy purred, desperate for attention. I was all rhythm, no restraint, just sound, liquor, motion, and desire bleeding into one.
"Shots, bitches!" Kysre screamed, lining them up.
Everyone grabbed one except River, who was tossing back lemonade. We all tapped the bottom of our glasses against the table, then sent them back, letting the liquor disappear between our laughter and screams.
"I love you hoes!" I cooed.
"We love you too!" they all screamed as the deejay switched it up and showed love to female rappers.
