Page 10

ALIGNED WITH THE DEVIL

I knew Hurricane didn’t believe in God. That wasn’t a secret in Southwave.

He believed in what he believed; himself, the streets, the ocean he was scared to drown in, and whatever else he kept locked up in that twisted-ass mind.

He had his own rituals, his own ways of making shit feel right to him.

I’d heard the whispers of how he moved, the way he talked about power like it was a religion of its own.

Hell, we even talked about it once. We were drunk, parked outside the beach at three in the morning in his Corvette with me still in tears after crying over Coast, Hurricane was trying to "get me out of the house.

" I was praying in that car, begging for peace, begging for my brother back, and he just sat there, cool as hell with a blunt hanging from his lips.

“Yummi,” he said, voice lazy, like he was talking about the weather. “You don’t need to be worshipping no God. God ain’t never did shit for you but take Coast away from us. You need to worship the ones who protect you. I’ma blood tie you to me since you want to believe in a higher power so bad.”

I laughed back then, thought he was just talking crazy because he was high, but I should’ve known better. I should’ve known when he said he was gonna “blood tie” us, he wasn’t just talking shit.

And yeah, I knew he’d put something in my drink that night. I felt it in the way my body moved slowly and heavy, like I was floating under his thumb, and I let it happen.

Now here I was, a week later.

The summer heat was killing me. The sun damn near melted my skin, but I didn’t care.

I was lying out on the beach with shades low over my eyes.

My body felt heavy and weak, and the throb in my hand made me nauseous.

The cut from the blood ritual had gone bad.

It was infected, swollen, and hot to the touch.

My girls were in the background, laughing, talking about some pool party they wanted to hit up. I could barely hear them, could barely think through the fog in my head.

“You hear me, Yummi? I said are you going to the pool party?” Solace nudged me, her voice snapping me outta my haze.

Before I could answer, I heard his voice. “Nah, she ain’t goin’ nowhere with y’all.”

I sat up fast, eyes wide and heart slamming in my chest. “Hurricane? What are you doing here?”

He walked up with a cocky grin on his face and shades covering his dark eyes. His black Tom Ford tee was tight across his chest, tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. He looked like the fucking devil.

“Just making sure you don’t turn into a hoe like them,” he said, his voice smooth as poison.

Solace cut her eyes at him. “Nigga, I ain’t no hoe.”

He smirked. “You might not be, but I know for sure she is.” He pointed dead at my other homegirl, Diamond. “You remember, huh? Sucked my dick and Mula’s the same night two summers back. Tell the truth.”

Diamond’s whole face went red, her mouth falling open like she couldn’t believe he’d aired her out like that.

“What the fuck, Hurricane?!”

I jumped up fast, shoving him hard in the chest, my voice sharp. “Boy, what the fuck was that? Have you lost your damn mind?”

He smirked at me, eyes cold as hell. “You know I've lost my mind.”

He grabbed my wrist, pulled me close so our bodies touched, so I could feel the heat off him like it was a warning.

“I just wanted you to see how much you don’t need them bitches. They don’t even respect you enough to tell you shit like that.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to shake him off. “She ain’t gotta tell me that.” But my words felt hollow, and his face told me he knew it.

His fingers slid over my wrist, down to my hand, and his thumb traced the bandaged cut like he was reminding me who I belonged to.

“It’s going to get better, just like your new life with me,” he uttered, eyes locked on mine like he could see straight through me. “That pain you’re feeling… It’s worth it. You’ll see.”

I don’t know what the fuck got into me, but I looked him dead in the face and said, “I’ll take pain from you before I take love from any other nigga out here.”

His grin spread slow, wicked, like I’d just sold my fucking soul—and maybe I did.

I glanced at Solace and the girls, but I already knew I wasn’t going to a pool party. I couldn’t anyway. My hand was too fucked-up to touch water.

I left the beach with Hurricane and slid into his Porsche like I ain’t have any other choice.

Back at our condo, he had me up against the wall before I could even take my shoes off.

“Say you mine.”

“I’m yours,” I whispered, my breath catching.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I cooed softly.

He didn’t even wait. He slid a ring onto my finger. The big diamond fit perfectly, but it was gaudy and heavy as hell.

“Now you my fiancée. You understand me?”

I nodded, breathing hard, my head spinning from the pressure, the weight, and the heat of him.

He kissed me hard and shoved me onto the bed.

His rough hands were all over me, claiming me like he owned every inch.

He took off my bikini and folded me like a pretzel before fucking me hard, giving me long, deep strokes that had tears coming out my eyes.

He grabbed my throat, but his grip tightened.

I gasped, feeling the air leave my lungs, the world starting to blur.

I blacked out.

When I woke up, my body was sore, the sheets were a mess, and my mind foggy as hell. I could barely remember the night, but I knew one thing: Hurricane had taken over my life—Who I could see. Where I could go. What I could say.

And worst of all? I let him.