Finally, I broke the silence. "Let's get out of here."
We exited the dungeon, and Roxx had to buzz us out. There was only one way in and one way out—by design. Though I knew the exit code, I didn't need Synthia seeing it. Not yet, anyway.
The drive back to my house was quick. The roads were empty this time of night, and I took the back way through the compound to avoid any nosy neighbors.
We came in the same way we left—through the garage.
"For my sake, can you not put those creepy ass metal bars up?" Synthia asked as I pulled into the garage and killed the engine.
I shot her a sadistic side-eye. "Not yet. I have to know that I can trust that you won't leave."
"I had an opportunity to leave earlier, and I didn't. I wouldn't get far, and you know that."
"You're right, but that don't mean you won't try a nigga."
"Romelo, if you almost killed yourself, I'm sure you won't hesitate to kill me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"At least you know."
She looked at me then—really looked at me—and I saw something shift in her eyes. Fear, maybe. Or acceptance. I couldn't tell.
But I knew one thing for sure: she wasn't going anywhere.
This was only the beginning of a crazy ass love story between Synthia and me. I'd already played it out in my head over and over, and the outcome was still the same—we'd end up together, come hell or high water.
Trecee could remain in her position if she played her cards right, but Synthia would always remain number one. If Trecee could see it through, she'd know better too. But given that I'd seen her play a filthy hand—ignoring her siblings' calls, prioritizing herself over everyone else—I doubted that if I brought Synthia and me to the light, she'd be willing to come out on top by doing shit the right way.
Her pride would have her doing shit the wrong way.
And when that happened, I'd be ready.
A FEW DAYS LATER
I'd made my rounds—visited Reese at the prison, stopped by Telo Wireless to check inventory and handle some business with Javon, checked on Trecee's brothers and sisters to make sure they had everything they needed, and come back to the compound to hang out with Synthia.
Usually, a regular day would consist of me running the streets—meeting with connects, handling disputes, collecting money. But Synthia was consuming all of my time now, and I didn't mind. There were no days left for me to soak in my wealth, to flex, to do the shit I used to do.
If Synthia wasn't gracing me with her presence, if I wasn't suffocating her with mine, I didn't want to know what the outside life felt like anymore.
But lately, she'd developed a dark cloud around her. Her standoffish ways had made their presence known. She was eating less—picking at her food, pushing it around on her plate. Giving dull conversations—one-word answers, distant stares. When I'd try to pry anything out of her, she'd shrug and look off into the distance as if something else was on her mind.
Just when I thought I was stepping ten steps forward with her, I'd get pushed back twenty. She wasn't an easy target at all—unpleasantly different from what I'm used to.
Entering the house through the garage, I found her in the living room. Surprisingly, she was seated downstairs instead of hiding in the guest room like she'd been doing for the past two days. Her gaze was fixated on something playing on the television—some reality show with women screaming at each other.
I stared at her for a second, pondering my next move.
"Get dressed," I spoke over the loud noise blaring from my surround sound.
"What?" Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide. That woke her ass up from the dead.
"Oh, you can hear now, huh? That got yo bipolar ass talkin'?" I teased her, a grin spreading across my face.
She sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and gave the television back her undivided attention—ignoring me on purpose.
"Get dressed. Be ready in twenty minutes or however the fuck long it's gonna take for you to look pretty and shit."
"Where are we going?" she asked, not looking at me.
