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"Look, I wasn't a saint, but I'm not 22 anymore," Jeremy stated, indicating that he had gone through the growing pains of becoming a real man.

Seven nodded her head in a satisfied manner since she had made her point. "Exactly. So how are you fit enough to comfort her in this situation but I'm not?"

"Seven, she doesn't need to hearI told you soright now," Jeremy explained as he leaned back in his seat.

"But I did tell her so!" Seven stressed. "I warned her about men like you."

Taken aback by Seven's statement, Jeremy leaned up in his seat with a frown sunken on his face. "Like me?" he scoffed, clearly offended. "I'm not the fucking plague, Seven."

"Yeah, but you make it impossible to stay away, even if I'm married," she admitted with great guilt. "Priest is the same way. You guys shake up our lives but love us like no one else can." Men like Jeremy and Priest were rare and would have a woman willing to sacrifice everything just to continue being loved by them. They were challenges. Being loved by someone who had never loved before was an intoxicating feeling that was hard to let go.

Jeremy’s eyes bore into Seven, who refused to make any eye contact. The two were more open with each other now, just like old times. They could talk about anything without the fear of being judged. Still, there was an understanding, and Seven had her boundaries. It was nothing more than what they were doing now, sharing coffee and talking. The attraction was still there, and so was the tension, but they knew it was no use. Seven respected her marriage, and so did Jeremy, so they never went past sharing coffee and just talking.

"Men like you and Priest love women like Britain and I so much because it's a feeling that's so foreign to you. Once you guys have it, you’re willing to pour it all into us because it will always be reciprocated, no matter how many promises are broken," Seven explained. She had so much time to think while she and Jeremy were apart. Once she finally let go of all the anger and hostility toward Jeremy, she realized that everything he ever did was because he loved her. It was difficult for her to wrap her head around it, but that was really the only thing that made sense to her.

Jeremy bit down on his bottom lip in deep thought. Seven’s attention trailed back to Remy, their eyes meeting. Her oak brown orbs were filled with pain as his sulked in guilt. "I'm wrong," Jeremy openly admitted. "Maybe it would be better hearing all of that from you.”

"She's our daughter, Jeremy. I know when it's the right time to nurture her and when it isn't. Luckily for her, I have plenty of experience with being with a man who can shake up your entire world and still leave you wanting more," Seven shrugged confidently, resting her case.

Jeremy chuckled in amusement as he shook his head. Seven still had her ways of getting whatever she wanted out of him. "You just love to hear me admit that I'm wrong."

She laughed in victory. "It's really a joy of mine," she confirmed and nodded her head.

Her phone going off in her purse immediately settled their laughter. She sat her mug down, extracting the device from her bag. "It's Britain," she informed Jeremy after letting out a heavy breath.

Jeremy nodded his head, giving her the go-ahead to answer the call from their daughter. She held the device up to her ear, preparing to console Britain. She was alarmed to hear the urgency and panic in Britain's voice.

"Ma, he's bleeding, and I don't know—"Seven's eyes widened in shock at the sound of her daughter’s shrilling cries.

"Mocha, baby, who's bleeding?" Seven asked, trying her best to drown out all the incoherent shouts that cluttered the background on Britain's end of the phone call. Jeremy leaned up in his seat, concerned about what was going on with Britain.

"Priest!" Britain shrieked out. Her cries pierced her mother's ears, sending her heart down to the pit of her stomach.

Seven swiftly jolted out of her seat, grabbing her bag. "Britain, take him to the hospital now! I'll meet you there!" Seven ordered. She knew the pressure of taking Priest's life into her hands, but her daughter wouldn't have had it any other way, which was why she called in the first place.

"No!" Seven heard from the other side of the phone. The raspy voice lacked ease and was choppy, as if mustering up the strength to utter out the protest was taking everything out of them.

"He's conscious?!" Seven questioned, connecting the bellowing voice to Priest.

Britain heaved out a heavy cry as she nodded her head. "Yes! How can I stop the bleeding until we get him over to you?!" she asked as she readjusted Priest's head on her lap. His face was chiseled and clenched in agony. He refrained from imploring herin pain and suppressed his screams by keeping his eyes fixed on Britain. She was keeping him calm, despite her screeching and crying.

"Where are you, Britain?!" Seven dropped her bag back down.

Britain’s eyes peered out of the dark tinted window of the vehicle, watching as the surrounding scenery drifted past her as the car continued to pick up speed. Behind their vehicle was Kaymen and J'Ru speeding after them in traffic. She gave her mother their location before setting her orbs back onto Priest.

Seven’s fingers raked through her hair in distress. Her brown eyes shifted to Remy, who was in distress as well. She gulped before making her decision. "I'm at your father's house. You're not too far from me," she enlightened Britain, not finding it necessary to cover the fact that she had been spending time with Remy in a high-stake situation like this.

Britain's mind was only fixed on keeping Priest alive. She didn't even realize that her mother was casually visiting her father. She simply shouted orders to whoever was operating the vehicle to get Priest to Remy's house immediately.

"Now, Mocha, I know you’re scared right now, but I need you to hold the bleeding and keep pressure on the wound until you get to me," Seven instructed her as she brought her voice down to a mellow and calm tone just to brace her petrified daughter for what she needed to do.

Britain pushed through her tears as she nodded her head. "Okay," she croaked as she wiped the single tear that cascaded from Priest's eye.

"Baby, I need you to look at the wound. Is there an entry and an exit?" Seven asked with her composed voice.

Britain lifted her hand from the puddle of blood that gushed out of the bullet wound, assessing the hole that punctured Priest's flesh. Britain was squeamish. She couldn't take the coldfeeling of his blood washing over the palms of her hand and the overbearing metallic smell that was suffocating her in the car. She took in a deep breath before slightly lifting Priest up to search for an exit wound.

Priest grunted in anguish when she moved him. The sounds escaping him were enough to bring anyone to their knees, but Seven considered them a good thing. He was alive and conscious. She could work with that. "It's through and through," Britain informed her mother.