Page 116 of Perfect Rhythm

No response.

I jumped out of bed and rushed to find some clothes, my phone still glued to my ear.

“You think you can just fuck another nigga right under my nose and get away with it?” I heard Mecca shout. “Nah, it ain’t going down like that. That’s my fucking pussy.”

“Get...get the fuck off of me, Mecca.”

Skye had barely gotten the words out, so I knew she was fighting.

“Just hang on, Skye, I’m coming.”

I had no idea if she could hear me. I wanted to call the police, but I didn’t want to risk ending the call and not being able to hear what was happening.

I texted Shade.

Nyx: Call the police now.

Shade: What’s going on?

Nyx: Mecca’s at Skye’s. He’s attacking her.

That’s all I could say. I kept my phone on speaker all the way to my car and then plugged it in when I got inside.

More glass shattered, and then...the line went dead.

Nothing could’ve preparedme for what I walked into. Shattered glass covered the living room floor. Vases were in pieces, their contents spilled and scattered.

It definitely looked like Skye had fought for her life.

“What the fuck would make Mecca do this?” I said, looking at Shade. “It’s one thing to be pissed off, but to attack someone because they don’t want to be with you...that shit is off.”

Shade slid his hand down the back of his head. “Man, I don’t know what the hell this fool got going on.”

I folded my arms over my chest, waiting for Skye to finish up with the police officer who was questioning her. I’d heard most of the story, and from the sound of things, Mecca had camped out in front of her house all night, waiting for Ocean to leave.

Fucking psychopath.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the officer said as he stood up from the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”

She waved him off. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. Her neck was marked with the shape of Mecca’s hand, and her cheek was swollen, the skin darkening where he’d slapped her.

“I’ll walk you out,” Shade told the officer.

Still shook by the sight of her, I walked over to the couch and sat down. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. That motherfucker came in my home and tried to kill me. What is wrong with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I...I don’t even know what to say. I never expected him to take things this far. Never!”

“I know.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “But it’s okay. You’re filing charges, right?”

“Of course, and I’m getting a fucking restraining order.”

“Good.”