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“Julian?”

Brett laughs. “I wish I had some popcorn for this shit.”

Julian looks down. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him this unsure of himself. My body trembles as I wait to hear the words my mind hasn’t quite connected yet. But I know it’s bad.

“Fuck this,” Brett says. “Your new man killed your baby’s father. On my pop’s orders. How that feel, Sable?”

This hurts more than Brett’s fists against my face.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Julian says. “I…” he trails off. “Fuck. I did a job for Dime. I didn’t know him. Or you. He found me through one of his military connections.” He turns to me, facing me head-on. “I’m so sorry, Sable. And I would have told you, but I didn’t wanna lose you.”

“Stop,” I sob. “Don’t. Don’t say anything else.”

Brett is watching this all unfold like a soap opera. “Alright, wrap this shit up. Where’s my fucking money?”

But Julian’s attention is still on me. He stares at me with glassy eyes, his posture drooping by the second.

His phone dings.

Brett sits up, his gun hand going rigid. “Don’t move.” He turns to his man, who I didn’t realize was still behind me. “Really, Travis? You didn’t take this nigga’s phone?”

The man reaches into Julian’s pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Money’s here,” he reads off. “That’s all it says.”

Brett frowns, then there’s a thud above us.

Brett stands as Travis runs up the basement stairs. There’s more movement above our heads, then footsteps. When Brett cranes his neck to look up the basement steps, that’s when Julian pounces.

He rushes forward, slamming into Brett. They both fall. The gun skitters across the floor. The man on the stairs draws his weapon, aiming but unable to get a clean shot.

“Brett! Stay low!” he yells, but they don’t hear him.

They’re locked in a brutal fight. Punches. Grunts. Blood.

Julian gets the upper hand, knocking Brett on his back, and then he goes HAM. Punch after punch, blow after blow. Brett tries to block the hits, but it’s no use. Julian is unhinged.

He has Brett pinned now, his hands around his throat. “You put your hands on her? Answer me, fuck nigga! You put your fuckin’ hands on my girl? This is how you die, bitch. This is how you fuckin’ die.”

Brett is gagging. He might really be dying. But all I can think about is the fact that Julian’s back is exposed. Just as I lookover at the man with the gun, somebody tackles him. They go tumbling down the stairs, and two more guns hit the floor.

Brett’s man manages to roll out from under Julian’s man and grab one of the guns. As I’m opening my mouth to scream, a shot rings out.

And everything goes dark.

40

Julian

The silence inside thetruck is like a third passenger. There’s no music. No talking. Just me and AJ headed to complete a mission.

He grips the wheel so tight, his knuckles are white, but he’s steady. AJ is always steady.

I’m mimicking him right now, but inside, I’m raging.

The gravel turns to dirt. The trees grow thicker. Branches claw at the doors as the truck lurches through the thick woods, headlights sweeping through thin fog.