“She was hurt. She couldn’t have walked the fuck off. Whoever took her did that shit quick.”
“This shit was planned.” Cyro shook his head.
I remained deep in thought as Priest chopped it up with Kaymen on the phone. This shit had me feeling like a sitting duck. I ain’t know where to begin. If I went on the fucking rampage I desperately wanted to go on, I would be risking my baby’s life. If Silas ordered this shit to happen, he wouldn’t think twice about offing Jazzlyn if I knocked off his mother or brother. I needed to get ahead of this nigga.
I jogged back over to Jazzlyn’s car, ignoring all the yelling from the police officers who were demanding for me to back up. They were moving too fucking slow for my liking. This was my fucking wife, and if nobody had a sense of urgency, I was gonna take matters into my own fucking hands. I went to the passengerside and pushed past the now deflated airbags. By now, Priest and Cyro had already jogged over to keep the police off me.
“Sir, this is an active investigation and crime scene! You cannot?—“
“Y’all motherfuckas’ just standing here! I’m gone find my fucking wife! Fuck y’all!”
The interior of the car was in disarray due to the collision. I found her purse in the back seat, and all her belongings that were inside were flung around the car. I searched as much as I could but came up short when it came to her phone. That meant whoever took her took her phone too.
“They got her phone,” I said lowly to just Priest and Cyro.
They nodded. “Bet. I’ll have Kaymen look into that shit too. Don’t do nothing irrational, Ahk. My baby sister’s life is on the line. We gone get these niggas. I don’t give a fuck if it’s the last thing I do.” Priest squeezed my shoulder.
I ran my hand down my face while trying my best not to crash out. “She could be pregnant, P. We been trying.”
“Fuck,” he stressed. He could peep the emptiness in my eyes, prompting him to pull me into an embrace. “Yo, we gone find her, and we gone figure this shit out.”
I know he was trying to be uplifting and encouraging, but my mind could barely process this shit. I wanted to be on go, and I wanted blood. Touching my wife was something that would guarantee I would put a nigga six feet under. Jazzlyn and my son were off fucking limits.
“I’m running through each and every one of his traps and putting a bullet between the eyes of whoever gets in my fucking way,” I gritted as I began making my way back to my car. I wasn’t about to sit around and just let time pass me by.
“Ahkeem, you gotta think smart! Don’t fucking crash out and make this shit worse!” Priest shouted from behind me as he remained on the scene.
There wasn’t no understanding or thinking rationally when it came to my wife. This shit was war.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JAZZLYN
My head feltlike it was about to explode. The pressure was so heavy that I had to internally coach myself to open my eyes. I had been in and out of consciousness for a while now, barely able to keep my eyes open for a minute at a time. Last thing I could remember was the impact. The car crashed into me so hard that my car rolled twice. Being alive right now was a blessing. I was scared to move, afraid that if I did, I would fuck up my chances of remaining alive, and I would be dead within seconds.
My ears hadn’t stopped ringing. The only sound I’d been able to register was my shallow breathing. I had been trying to keep it steady. If I panicked, there would’ve been no calming me down.
Finally mustering up the strength to open my eyes, I winced at the bright light that shined above me. I for damn sure wasn’t in Heaven because the air was too humid and muggy. Taking a look around, I noticed the walls were old wooden panels that had mildew climbing up them. My orbs were able to trail down and notice the stained green carpet underneath me. I was on a thin cot that was supported by rusty springs that squealed with each move I made.
The longer I kept my eyes open, the more I was able to feel the aftermath of the crash’s impact on my body. I felt like Ihad been dropped from the tallest building in the city with no parachute. My ears eventually stopped ringing, and I was met with the intimidating silence that filled the room. I knew I was in a basement of some sort due to the lack of windows. Slowly, I lifted my hand up to my head. My fingers graced a wound that had been bandaged up.
“What the fuck?” I croaked out, my throat dry and voice brittle.
I wasn’t in no fucking hospital, so who the fuck patched me up, and why the fuck was I in a fucking basement?
Every muscle in my body felt like it was on fire. I pursed my lips shut to keep from making any noise. I didn’t know who dragged me here or what they were capable of.
After a while, I managed to sit up. I looked down at myself. Open cuts and wounds were all over my arms and legs from the shards of glass that went flying from the windows. I had no clue how the fuck I made it out of that crash alive. For a minute, I really thought it was over for me. The last two people I thought about were Ahkeem and Saphir. I could only imagine how crazy my husband’s mind was going right now. I had no sense of time, but I knew the fact that I didn’t get to Saphir’s school was a red flag to Ahkeem. He knew something was up, which meant he was tearing up the fucking city behind me.
The door of the basement creaked open. Because of the way I was positioned on the side of the staircase, I had no clue who was coming down. I held my breath as I heard footsteps sound against the stairs.
“You’re up.”
The rugged voice caused a queasiness to surface from the pit of my stomach. The only thing that was holding me over was the bagel smeared with cream cheese I had on the jet while flying in from Miami. I was afraid that it would soon be all over the dingy-ass carpet. I eyed him up and down. He reminded me of a bag ofpotatoes, just big and slouchy. He was dressed in all black, but even that didn’t slim down his physique.
My eyes trailed from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. His receding hair line had me questioning how old this nigga was. I wasn’t familiar with him at all, so I had no fucking clue what he wanted from me.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” I croaked.
