Page 39 of Faded Rhythm

Sable

My head throbs in slow, punishing pulses. I can’t seem to get my right eye to stay open no matter how hard I try. I think my nose is bleeding. Maybe it’s snot. I can’t tell.

My wrists are raw where the ropes have dug into them. I taste blood in my mouth. I can’t tell how long I’ve been down here in this basement—our basement. The one I decorated myself. The place where our girls played after school.

Brett sits across from me on an old stool. He hasn’t said a word in a while. He just stares at me, gun resting on his knee, as if watching me scared and in pain brings him peace.

“Can I use the bathroom?” I ask, throat dry and cracking.

He doesn’t answer.

I blink against the pounding in my skull, trying to focus. “Brett. Please.”

Nothing.

Tears well up in my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

Still nothing.

Salty tears spill down my cheeks. “Is this about the label? You could have just asked me.”

His jaw ticks, and finally, he lets out a low, bitter laugh. It sounds broken, like something in him is cracking from the inside out.

“I was your wife,” I say softly. “I would’ve given it to you.”

He looks at me now, really looks, and I see it in his eyes. Hate. But also, something way worse.

Knowledge.

A secret he’s waiting to throw in my face.

I should have known. I should have seen it.

My stomach churns. My pulse spikes with dread.

I stare past him, eyes locked on the basement door.

Julian, please come save me.

I think of my girls. Their laughter. Their light. I keep asking Brett where they are, if they’re safe. He won’t tell me, and I hate him for it.

I cough and immediately regret it as the booming pain explodes in my head. A fresh wave of tears pools in my eyes as I avoid Brett’s glare. Then—

BOOM.

It sounds like thunder exploded inside the house. The ceiling vibrates, and something heavy hits the floor upstairs.

Brett jumps up and points his gun at the door. My breath catches as my heart slams into my ribs.

“What was that?” I ask softly, but he ignores me again.

The basement door creaks open.

Heavy footsteps echo down the stairs.

Then I see him.

Julian.

Hands up. Calm. Focused. Determined, even with a gun aimed at his back.

I start sobbing the moment I see him.

He starts seething the moment he sees me. His entire body tenses, his fists clenching in the air.

“Did he do that to you?” His voice is shaking with barely restrained rage.

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he looks at Brett.

“What the fuck happened to her face?”

Brett shrugs. “What the fuck happened to her neck?”

I don’t say it, but that’s what made Brett hit me. He saw the hickies and bite marks on my neck from me and Julian’s wild night last night and went ballistic.

The man behind Julian nudges him forward. “Kneel.”

He does.

Stillness settles, and the air grows thick with tension and rage.

Brett settles back on his stool, gun still pointed at me. “Where the fuck is my money?”

Julian’s eyes are trained on me, laser focused on my injuries. “It’s on the way.”

Brett flicks the safety off. “I’m not in the mood to wait.”

I whimper, the sound escaping before I can stop it.

Julian shifts to the left, placing himself directly in front of me. “Nah. You gon’ have to kill me first.”

Brett chuckles. “I told you to have your fun with her. I never said to fall in love. You really ready to die for this hoe?”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Julian snarls.

“Damn. So that’s your girl now, huh?” Brett smirks. “Simp ass nigga.”

Julian shrugs. “Why’d you send me after Dime?”

Brett’s face falls.

“Too broke to wait for him to die, so you put me up to it. I saw right through that shit.”

Brett’s silence is confirmation.

I stare at him in shock, wondering how I ever tricked myself into thinking he was a good man, or at least a man worth marrying.

“Did y’all have fun playing house?” Brett asks bitterly. “How’d it feel rolling around in my dirt?”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Julian asks. “No wonder she was leaving your bitch ass.”

“You think I give a fuck? Look, she’s all yours. Just be careful of that one.” He barks out a hateful laugh. “She ain’t shit. She’ll lie right to your face and pass off another nigga’s kid as yours.”

I close my eyes. My breath leaves my lungs.

Brett’s voice is low and rough. “Go on, Sable. I wanna hear you deny that shit in front of your man.”

I take a deep breath and open my eyes. “How did you find out?”

“I tested them,” he snaps. “Real simple. Learned from the best. My old man said always make sure what’s yours is really yours.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my eyes filling with tears as I connect the dots. “Is that why you killed Dash?”

Brett snickers, shifting his eyes to Julian. “I didn’t kill Dash, sweetheart. But your boy might be able to shed some light.”

Julian turns to look at me, and I can see it on his face.

“What is he talking about?” I ask, my voice full of desperation.

Julian’s shoulders drop and the air leaves my lungs.

“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 look over 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.