Page 232 of 4 Corinthians

"Did we interrupt a solo session?" I asked with a small laugh. Mims glared at me, but I didn’t care.

"Nah baby," Uri said, shaking his head. He pointed to the side of the bed, and I glanced around him to see Logan knocked out on the floor.

"Logan?" I cautiously asked, then looked at Uri. "He was fucking Logan?"

"Logan was fucking him," Uri clarified.

"How long has that been going on?" I couldn't help but ask. "And ain't that your uncle?" I looked at Mims.

"He's not my uncle by blood. Aunt Sharon is my mama’s sister."

"Close enough," I said, shrugging. "How long y'all been fucking?"

"Since he was twelve," Uri answered.

"Aww, you’re a victim,” I said, nodding. I understood now the hold Logan had on Mims. He had been groomed since he was a boy, and Logan kept that hold on him.

"I’m not a victim," Mims denied.

"You've been fucking him since you were a kid who couldn’t give consent, and you’re wearing a bra with no titties and a Bob wig," I pointed out. "You are a victim."

"I’m not a victim!" Mims yelled. "You don’t know shit!" I knew that men had a hard time understanding that they could be victims, too. For so long, society only ever talked about sexual assault on women and girls. They ignored the men and boys.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Uri shook his head. He was trying so damn hard to hold on to his temper.

"I know enough," I told him. "Now lower your voice before that man decides to lose his temper. He doesn’t like to be yelled at or for me to be yelled at."

"Fuck you!" Mims sneered.

I would've been insulted if he wasn’t standing there in a bra and wig. Don't get me wrong, I had no problem with people who did drag; I even enjoyed a show or two, but this wasn’t it. This was a man, lost in the thought of love with his rapist. If nothing else, I felt sorry for Mims. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to die, though.

"Fuck this," I heard Uri say, then he emptied his clip into Mims. He dropped to the ground, and that was it. No grand flare, nothing over the top. Mims's death was basic and quick because he didn’t matter.

I approached him and went to work, cutting his head off. My straight razor wasn’t actually going to decapitate him, though. It would only cut through the skin, muscles, and veins. When I got to his spinal cord, I stood, lifted my boot, and stomped down, breaking his spine until his head was disconnected from his body.

"Can I just say that was probably the sexiest thing I've seen you do?" Uri asked.

I picked up Mims's head by the wig, half expecting it to come off, but it didn’t. Surprised, I tucked it under my arm and checked his scalp. The wig was a sew-in. "Whoever did this did a damn good job," I said, then turned to Uri. "What are your plans for Logan?"

"Death." He grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him out of the room. His head bounced down each step as we left.

"This nigga is dragging a naked nigga, and she’s carrying a head under her arm," Krude sighed when he saw us. "What the fuck were y'all doing up there?"

"Killing Mims." I held up his head.

"And who is that nigga?" Krude asked, pointing to Logan.

"My father," Nine answered. His cold gray eyes were locked on Logan. "Is he dead?"

"No," Uri answered.

Nine nodded, then knocked on the door, then took his phone from his pocket, dialed a number, then put it on speakerphone.

"Hello?"

"How far are you?" Nine asked.

"Pulling up."