She froze, her face crumpling, and I saw the crack in her armor.
“Let’s go get some air on the beach,” I muttered, pulling her up and taking her outside, past the valet and down toward the shore. The night air hit us, and Yummi exploded. She screamed into the wind, cursing the world with fists clenched around a half-empty bottle.
“Fuck the world! Fuck everything!” she yelled, tears streaking her face. She poured liquor out onto the sand, her voice shaking. “This for my brother… but Hurricane and Sparkle? They can rest in piss!”
I let her get it out while watching, letting her rage hit the waves.
She collapsed in the sand, sobbing and holding the bottle like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Before I could react, she pulled her gun from her waistband and put it to her head.
“YUMILA!” I shouted, heart stopping. I ran over, but before I could grab her, she pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
She laughed—a twisted, broken sound. “I emptied the clip on that bitch, Butter.”
She tossed the gun into the ocean, sobbing so hard her body shook.
I sat down beside her, pulling her into my arms. She melted into me, crying like her soul was shattering.
“You’ve got a lot to live for. You got a baby, a family, and a talent. Don’t fuck yourself up over the past. I’ll help you. If youneed a psychiatrist, whatever, I got you. You ain’t gotta do this alone.”
She just cried, and I held her, letting her fall apart in my arms.
When she finally stopped, I had to carry her back to the car. Everybody was watching as I waited for the valet driver, but I didn’t care.
When I got on the freeway, she was sayingI’m sorrythe whole ride back to Prince Valley. I stayed quietly focused, driving her home drunk as hell but determined to keep her safe.
When we got in the house, I told her, “Keep that shit down. Don’t wake the baby unless I’ma make you sober up for real.”
I got her in the shower, then in bed. She tried to pull me close to have sex, but I wasn’t with it. She needed rest.
After she fell asleep, I went to my study and sat there in the dark, staring at the wall.
I realized some shit had to change.
For real this time. Yummi wasn’t built for her position anymore, and that was a hard pill to swallow.
STEPPING DOWN
I sat in my room,staring at the TV screen like I hadn’t seen this video a hundred times, withCold Showersby Tia Gordon playing lowly in the background on my speaker.
It was Coast’s voice, that smooth, cocky tone that always had a way of cutting through bullshit. His face was still clear in the recording, but it felt like a different lifetime. He was talking about me—his little sister—the one he thought was strong enough to carry a whole empire on her back.
But I wasn’t.
Not anymore.
I had been slipping for months. Hell, I’d been depressedbeforeI even had the baby, but I didn’t want to admit it. I thought once he came home from the NICU, things would feel lighter, like I had something to live for again.
When Mula came back home… it was like the weight doubled. The pressure. The grief. The guilt. The trauma. It all came crashing down, and it hit hard.
After I killed Butter, something in me cracked. I was built for a kill, yeah—I always knew I had that in me. But my hormones, my depression... it was like my body couldn’t keep up with my mind. I’d been stuck in a fog since that night.
I hadn’t been around the baby much, and I hated it. I couldn’t be around him while I was torn apart. Mula held us down, being a full-time dad while I stayed locked in my room, drawing, sewing, scribbling designs when my brain wasn’t frozen from the pills.
I felt bad. Embarrassed, even. Mula never complained. He just kept showing up—feeding the baby, rocking him to sleep, keeping the house moving like we weren’t falling apart behind closed doors.
