Noles #2
I woke up in the middle of the night to Ayida shakin' me.
Hard. Urgent. My eyes flew open, chest tight like I'd been dropped back into that hospital bed.
The room was dark, but I could feel her panic before I could see her face.
"Noles, get up, On malè rivé." Something bad happened.
she said lowly. That language always did somethin' to my nervous system.
Made my blood spike. Made my brain flip a switch.
I sat straight up, heart slammin' against my ribs, hand shootin' out to grab her wrist on instinct.
Groundin myself to her. "You okay?" I asked, voice rough, sleep still clingin' to my throat.
She shook her head already movin', already gone.
She stepped back from the bed, walked straight to the closet, hands trembling as she pulled on a pair of tights.
"You need to answer your phone and get up, Noles. We gotta go."
That's when I heard That low, relentless vibration on the nightstand.
Like a heartbeat that wasn't mine. I turned my head slow. Phone lit up the dark. Missed calls stacked on top of each other. Notifications bleedin into one another. 2:03 a.m. My jaw tightened. Before I could even grab it, it buzzed again and Pierre’s name flashed .
I snatched the phone up and answered without thinkin'.
"Wassam?" I said, already swingin' my legs off the bed.
"Meet us at Ju house," Pierre said, voice tight.
No jokes. No bullshit. "They woke up and Juliana was missin' out her bed, man.
" My chest dropped like the floor disappeared under me.
"That nigga took her." Everything went quiet. "I'm on the way," I said. No questions.
I ended the call and stood up too fast, vision spottin' for half a second.
My nostrils flared, breath comin' short and sharp like I'd just been punched.
This nigga Nash. This crash-dummy-ass, obsessive, rotten-blooded bitch was the real definition of a fuck nigga.
He kidnapped my niece, After he already tried to kill me.
My Patience wasn't just dead, It had been buried.
I grabbed the sweats off the chair and yanked them on, hands movin' fast, violent.
Shirt next. Shoes. Keys. Ayida was already at the door, hair fluffy and wild, eyes wide but focused.
"You don't have to come," I said automatically, even though I knew she would.
She looked at me like I'd insulted her. "I'm your wife, this is our family" she said quietly.
"Where you go, I go." I didn't argue. Didn't have the time and honestly I didn't have the right.
We were out the door in seconds. The night air hit me hard.
My hands shook as I unlocked the car. I fetl anger pure and unfiltered rushin through my blood.
We pulled off fast, tires spittin' gravel.
Streetlights blurred as I hit the gas, knuckles white around the wheel.
My thoughts started crowdin' in. I swallowed hard, jaw clenchin' until it hurt. I felt Ayida lace her fingers with mine, squeezin' like she knew I was driftin' too far. It pulled me back for half a second, just enough to keep the car on the road.
Every mile felt like I was drivin' through wet concrete, hands stiff on the wheel, jaw locked so tight my teeth hurt. Ayida's fingers were still laced with mine, but I barely felt it now. My head was loud and that shit was crawlin' up my spine, stretchin' its claws, beggin' to be let loose.
When we pulled up, I didn't even pull all the way into the driveway. I parked crooked across the yard. Headlights cut through the dark, washin' over a couple police cars scattered out front. Red and blue lights bounced off the house, off the trees, off my windshield like accusations.
I cut the engine and was out the car before the silence could settle.
Gravel crunched under my shoes as we rushed inside.
The door was already open, like the house couldn't even protect itself anymore.
Jules and Nia were in the kitchen talkin' to two officers.
Nia looked hollow, like she was just emptied out.
Jules was standin' too close to her, arm tense around her shoulders, but I could tell it was fake by the way he held his face. This was a show for the police.
I nodded at him once without speakin. Words felt useless right now. Juste was in the livin' room, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and sharp. Mama and pops were on the other end, I could tell by the way his shoulders were set.
Ayida slipped from my side without a word and moved closer to Amina and Chiana.
I dropped onto the couch next to Pierre.
He was leaned back, legs spread, arms crossed, eyes hard.
He looked like he'd already made peace with the kind of night this was about to turn into.
"Nigga what the fuck make your ass sleep so hard?
" he said low. "We been callin' you forever. "
I glanced at him sideways. "Pussy," I muttered.
Juste's head snapped toward me so fast it cracked the air.
"Noles, not the fuckin' time," he growled.
Pierre let out a breath like he was holdin' back a laugh.
"The fuck nigga funny." Pierre shot at him.
"You gotta give it to him," he said, chucklin.
"Timing trash, but delivery clean." Juste cut his eyes at him, unimpressed.
I leaned forward, hands clasped tight enough to feel my pulse beatin' against my palms. "Stop bullshittin'," I said.
"What's goin' on?" Juste dragged a hand down his face slow, like the words were heavy.
"This nigga picked the lock," he said. "Came through the back door.
Walked clean through these folks' house like he lived here.
Got baby girl out her bed. Cameras caught all that. "
"And after?" I asked. Juste's nostrils flared.
"After, he sent messages and pictures to Nia phone.
On some 'takin' what's his' type shit." My jaw clenched so hard it damn near popped.
"That nigga bold as a mutha fucka," I said, leanin' back in disbelief.
"Bold don't even cover it." They should’ve let me killed this nigga weeks ago and we wouldn’t even be in the stupid ass situation.
I closed my eyes for half a second. When I opened my eyes, my vision felt sharp around the edges.
"Juste," I said, voice low, even. Too even.
"I'm done playin' nice. Done bein' on that pussy shit.
If I see that nigga walk into church, grocery store, gas station, anywhere, I'm sendin' hot ones in his ass.
On God." Juste looked at me long. He didn't argue "Yeah," he said.
"Nigga fucked up church's money. It just is what it is.
" That's when I knew. This wasn't gettin' handled quietly.
This wasn't gettin' prayed away. This was blood math.
I stood up, pacing slow across the room. Every step felt like pressure buildin' under my skin. I kept rollin' my shoulders, stretchin' my neck, tryin' to shake that post-coma stiffness that never really left. Sometimes my body still felt like it didn't belong to me. Like it could give out.
I glanced over at Ayida. She was sittin' quiet now, hands folded in her lap, head bowed slightly.
I knew that posture. She was prayin' without movin' her lips.
Callin' on her ancestors to keep this from goin' all the way left.
Part of me wanted to snap her out of it and tell her to breathe.
Another part of me needed her to keep doin' exactly that.
Because while she was prayin', I was barely holdin' the leash on myself.
The police finally cleared out, their footsteps fading down the porch, red and blue lights disappearin' into the night like they hadn't just walked through the wreckage of somebody's family.
The house felt smaller once they were gone.
Quieter. Not peaceful, just heavy. Like the walls themselves were listenin'.
Jules and Nia drifted into the living room behind them.
They Didn't walk together Or look at each other.
They split the space without sayin' a word.
Jules dropped' on the couch, elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands.
Nia stayed standin' near the far wall, arms crossed tight over her chest like she needed to hold herself together.
The tension between them was thick as hell. You could choke on it.
"One of y'all roll up, please," Jules muttered, voice raw.
I watched him stand, slow and unsteady, like his bones didn't quite fit right anymore.
He went straight for the cabinet, hands shakin' just enough to notice as he poured himself a glass of liquor and turned it back in one go.
He Didn't breathe. Just poured another. "You really think that's what you need to be doin' right now?
" Nia said from across the room. Her voice cracked at the edges.
Her eyes were red, swollen, like she'd been cryin' long before we got here.
Jules didn't look at her. He swallowed hard, set the glass down, then laughed low and bitter. "What I need to be doin'," he muttered. "Tuh. Bitch talkin' 'bout what I need to be doin'," The words slipped out before he could stop 'em and the air changed with ‘em.