Page 120 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 4

“I’m not excusing his fuck-ups,” I told them flatly. “Amai knows he dropped the ball, and he’s out there right now tearing this city apart with his bare hands trying to fix it. But Amai didn’t steal your sister. Kaisen did. Kaisen was right there in our faces, performing nice, acting like the dutiful brother while his mind was rotting with obsession. None of us saw this exact move coming, so don’t you sit on that phone acting righteous like you had it all figured out.”

Silence hung over the line, heavy with guilt and raw fear.

“Where is Priest?” Raven demanded suddenly, her voice tight and trembling with an anger she couldn’t hide. “Priest is with Amai. Why the hell didn’t Priest call me? He knows Truth is my sister! He knows Trumai is my niece! Why am I finding out from you three hours late instead of him picking up his damn phone?!”

“Raven, calm down—” I started.

“No, Mama, I’m not calming down!” Raven spat. “I’m calling Priest right now. He’s going to tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Raven, don’t you get in the way of⁠—”

Click.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear where Raven had dropped off the call.

I pulled the phone away, rubbed my temples, and let out a long, shuddering breath. “Lord, give me strength,” I muttered. That girl was too much like me for her own good—stubborn, hot-headed, and terrified for the people she loved.

“Mama,” Honor’s voice came back on the line, quieter now, grounded by the reality of what we were facing. “What do we do?”

“We move,” I said. “We don’t sit here crying. We use what we got.”

“I’m getting with Terrance right now,” Honor said, and I could hear her shaking her husband awake in the background. “Terrance knows every knucklehead and ex-con from Uptown to New Orleans East. Some of his jailbird friends always got their ears to the concrete. If anybody on the street heard about Kaisen renting something, buying something off the books, or moving weight in a strange direction, Terrance will find out.”

“Good,” I said. “Check every corner.”

“I’m calling our people,” Saroya chimed in, her voice trembling but determined. “I’m calling Auntie Clara, Cousin Marcus, and our folks over in the Lower Ninth and Gentilly. If anybody’s seen his car or heard his name dropped in the last twelve hours, we’ll know.”

“Make the calls,” I told them. “Keep your heads on straight. Don’t go kicking in doors y’all got no business near, and don’t get yourselves hurt. Keep me posted on every single whisper you hear.”

“We will, Mama,” Saroya whispered. “We’re going to get them back.”

“I know we are,” I said. “Now go.”

I hit the red button on the screen and laid the phone face-down on the wooden table.

The house fell quiet again.

I stood from the chair, my knees popping in the silence of the kitchen. I walked slowly down the hallway into the living room, where the faint glow of the streetlamp cut through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the walls.

I looked at the framed photos on the mantel. Truth smiling at her high school graduation. Truth holding her first nursing textbook. Truth’s soft, beautiful face that had seen too much pain in her short twenty-seven years.

My legs gave out beneath me.

I sank onto the braided rug, dropping to both knees right in the center of the room. I pressed my palms together, bowed my head until my forehead rested against the edge of the coffee table, and squeezed my eyes shut.

The tears finally came, hot and silent, soaking into the wood.

“Lord Jesus,” I whispered into the dark, my voice cracking from the marrow of my bones. “You know my heart. You know my girl. She didn’t ask for none of this mess. She has fought for every inch of peace she ever had.”

I choked on a sob, my hands gripping each other so tight the knuckles ached.

“Protect my grandbaby,” I begged, rocking gently on the floor. “Put a hedge of thorns around that little girl. Don’t let no evil touch her skin. And give Truth the strength to hold on. Give her the wit to outsmart that sick boy. Keep her mind sharp, Jesus. Keep her breathing.”

I paused, swallowing the knot in my throat, picturing Amai’s wild, murderous eyes on my front porch.

“And guide that crazy man,” I whispered fiercely. “Give Amai the scent. Put the devil in his feet until he tracks them down, and don’t let him stop until my babies are home.”

I stayed on my knees in the quiet of the Seventh Ward, praying through the dark, waiting for the sun to rise and bring my daughter back.