Page 129 of Addicted

“Dog, she pregnant,” I said, my voice breaking.

Kenzo’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“She’s pregnant, Zo,” I said again. “She’s carrying my baby. And this nigga took her, man.”

Kenzo’s expression shifted from shock to fury.

“We gon’ get her back,” he said, his voice hard. “I don’t care what it takes. We getting her back.”

I nodded, my hands clenched into fists.

Indie was out there somewhere. Scared. Alone. Maybe hurt. And she was carrying my child. Our child.

My family was in danger, and I was gon’ murder every nigga involved. If they weren’t okay…if anything happened to Indie or our baby…I wouldn’t stop until all they asses was dead.

And everyone they loved.

“Antoine,” I barked. “Get on the phone. I want every nigga we got out looking for Indie. Check every corner, every safe house, every spot Wes might’ve taken her.”

“On it, boss,” Antoine said, pulling out his phone.

“Deacon, Julio,” I continued. “I want you to find Wes. I don’t care if you gotta turn this whole city upside down. Find that nigga and bring him to me. Alive.”

They nodded and headed out.

“Terrell,” I said. “Pull up the GPS on Javion’s SUV. Track his last location.”

“Already on it,” Terrell said, typing furiously on his laptop.

I turned to Kenzo. “We getting her back,” I said, my voice cold and deadly. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Kenzo echoed.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like my lungs werebeing crushed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to breathe properly again until I got Indie back in one piece. Safe. With our baby still growing inside her.

I was coming for her, and God help anyone who got in my way.

Chapter 25

Indie

My head was pounding.

That was the first thing I noticed when I came to. The second thing was that I couldn’t move my arms.

I tried to open my eyes, but the light was too bright, making my head throb even harder. I squeezed them shut again and took a breath. Tried to remember what happened.

It came to me in flashes. Javion shooting Troy. The van. The masked men. Being hit over the head.

Fuck.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh light filtering through broken blinds.

I was in a room I didn’t recognize. The walls were water-stained and peeling, the floor covered in dirt and debris. It smelled like mold and piss.

I looked down and saw that I was tied to a wooden chair, my wrists bound behind my back with thick rope that cut into my skin. My ankles were tied to the chair legs. I pulled against the binds, trying to loosen them, but they were too tight. Whoever tied me up knew what the fuck they were doing.

Panic started to rise in my chest. I was alone, trapped, and I had no idea where I was or how long I’d been here.