Chapter 25 Ayanna #2
“What do you want from me?” I breathed out, my voice low. “A “I’m sorry” or “I was wrong?” Because despite what you may think I never meant for this to be this way.”
“Same ol’ Yanna,” he muttered, almost to himself, before backing out of my face and standing straight.
“You always think shit is about you. And well... they’re not.
This is about how your father and that husband of yours ruined my fucking family.
Their war killed the only mother I ever knew.
Imagine getting a call while I was away at school saying the only woman I loved was murdered.
Because your father, and now the man you are married to only care about power. ”
This time his finger tapped firmly against my forehead. “Use that brain of yours.”
I wanted to flinch, but I refrained from even making a sound. He would not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak. Because despite what he thought of me, I wasn’t a weak bitch.
“Mother? You told me you didn’t have any family—”
“Nah. I said I didn’t have blood family. There’s a difference.” His jaw tightened. “Janell Whitehead raised me. Took me in at fifteen when no one on this earth wanted me. She was more of a mother than the woman who birthed me ever was.”
My brow furrowed.
“Yeah, now you’re thinking. Whitehead Funeral Home. Ring a bell?” He studied my face, the name sounding familiar, but still not ringing any bells.
“Probably not. Your husband’s men made sure of that when they killed her.
Thankfully, her family didn’t completely abandon me.
Bianca—my mother’s step-sister—felt obligated to finish what Janell started.
Made sure I graduated. Kept me clean, kept me off the streets.
Turned me into the respectable, vetted, safe boyfriend you thought I was.
” He laughed bitterly. “And your husband never saw me coming.”
My stomach turned. All this time. He’d been playing me from the start.
“You think running into you at that hardware store a few weeks ago was a coincidence?” His smirk widened. “Nah. I knew you’d be there. Been tracking you since your wedding.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my face. “Would’ve had your ass that day, but your husband...”
I shook my head, feeling played, but also relieved.
“All this time, I felt bad for not feeling any passion with you. Thought you were just a mistake I was trying to make work. Turns out you were everything my husband thought you were. Weak.” I held his gaze.
The twitch in his jaw and the ire in his eyes let me know I struck a nerve.
I smiled, feeling my swollen lips crack slightly, the dried-up blood turning back into a fresh trickle.
“I’m sorry about your family but if you really think dragging a tied-up woman into a moldy-ass warehouse and ranting about some bullshit that ain’t got shit to do with me is gonna save you?
You are more delusional than I thought. It’s not going to save you, or satisfy your thirst for revenge.
And when my husband finds you...” I trailed, pissing him off.
That’s when I felt the first impact of his open hand, landing right on my swollen cheek. “Shut up!”
“Enough!” Orlando boomed entering the room and gripping Corey’s wrist mid strike. “What good is she to us if she is unconscious? Go take your angry ass over there and calm the fuck down. You’ll get your revenge. As shall I.”
Corey’s jaw locked. His breathing was loud in the silence that followed, but he did what Orlando asked, stepping back. He didn’t speak, but I saw how he still needed an outlet for that unchecked rage. Orlando must’ve seen it too, because the next words out of his mouth wasn’t a suggestion.
“Go make yourself useful. Check on Isabella. She should’ve been back by now.”
Corey nodded curtly, but it didn’t take away the tension in his muscles or the flexing of his jaw.
But he did what he was asked to, turning quickly, and snatching his phone from his back pocket.
Orlando watched him walk a few feet away before turning his expressionless gaze toward me.
The tension in the room was palpable. I had no clue what this man may do to me.
Considering his wife and son were now casualties in a war he and his wife started.
I didn’t speak or move. At least not yet. I needed to see what his next move would be. Orlando folded his arms, studying me with a look that would have intimidated anyone else. His silence was heavy.
“Watching someone you love... take their last breath, it changes a man,” he said finally, his voice low and even. He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room. “You start to see things differently. Making different decisions.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Like what? Murdering somebody else’s wife?”
Orlando didn’t flinch. “Not just anybody’s wife. His wife. And I’ll make sure he watches you go. The same way I watched Bianca.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“You don’t get the pleasure of dying here… alone, and without a proper audience.” He went on, his voice almost gentle now, like he was having a conversation about the weather. “This here? This is just a pit stop.”
“Unk... she’s not answering.” Corey walked back over, phone still in hand, a notable crack of uncertainty in his voice.
“Try again,” Orlando ordered, his dead eyes never leaving mine.
“I have… multiple times. And she’s not answering.”
The silence after that wasn’t just quiet, it was fucking intense.
I could feel it crawling across the room.
Something wasn’t right. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I could bet my last dollar my husband had something to do with her not answering.
Orlando blinked slowly and turned away from me holding his hand out for the phone.
As he took it from the palm of Corey, it buzzed.
The vibration was loud.
“Where you at.” Orlando barked into the phone.
“You expecting Isabella?” Teo’s calm, but almost deadly voice crooned throughout the room. “Don’t worry she’s been extremely helpful.”
The line went dead, and Orlando’s grip on the phone tightened. His face twisted with nothing but rage.
“Boss, we gotta problem.” The side door flew open, revealing a group of men, all dressed in black, their expressions grim.
Behind them staggered in a bloody Isabella babbling a bunch of broken phrases. Her face was barely recognizable. Her blouse was shredded, hanging off one shoulder, and her arms trembled as she tried to steady herself against the nearest wall.
“I had to tell him. I had to give you up,” she gasped, tears mixing with the dirt and blood on her face. “I didn’t have a choice. It was the only way he would let me live.”
“You gave me up?” he scoffed, taking a menacing step toward her.
Isabella nodded through a fresh wave of tears, her mouth trembling. “I tried to hold out. I... I thought—”
“You thought?” His voice boomed and she flinched. “What the fuck did he mean when he said you’d been ‘extremely helpful’? What exactly did you give him? Because he don’t leave survivors. So how the fuck are you even standing here?”
Isabella looked at him no shame in her eyes when she said, “He wanted information. And I gave it to him,” she said flatly. “Not everything. Just enough. Low level names of people involved in the attack. A version of the plan.”
“Bullshit,” Orlando snapped. “Teo would never let you walk away alive... even with information. Especially information with little to no value. You had to give him something worth sparing your life. What was it?”
She hesitated.
Then her eyes lifted and met his.
“I brought him... here.”
The silence after that hit him like a body blow. He visibly staggered, bending over as if the air had been knocked out of him.
“You what?”
“I had to. It was the only way.” Her head shook. “But when we got here, I escaped. I’m here to warn you of his arrival,” she tried.
“He made it clear that he was here. Thanks.” He deadpanned, rubbing the top of his head in a panic.
“The fuck, Isabella. This was your idea! This whole fuckin’ operation.
You dragged my wife into this bullshit.” He hissed, stepping forward.
“I protected you when no one else would. And when he asked me to hand you over? I didn’t even when that nigga killed my wife and kid.
Yet, you turned around and brought him to my doorstep? ”
He began pacing the room like a caged animal, his moves erratic. “The least you could’ve done was die with some fuckin’ honor.” He turned toward Corey.
“Take care of her. While I go handle the bullshit she’s brought to our front door.”
Orlando didn’t wait for confirmation, only turning on his heels and storming out of the heavy steel door with his other men trailing behind.
Corey was still standing there, gun in hand, chest rising and falling a little too fast. He was no killer, despite the hard facade he wore.
That man had never pulled the trigger on anyone before.
It was all in the way he held the pistol, his posture, and the terrified look now that shit had got real.
Isabella knew it too. Even as broken and bruised as she was, her eyes looked through him with a strange kind of clarity. She took one slow step forward, her hand clutching her side. Then another step, her other hand barely outstretched.
She wasn’t pleading. Wasn’t saying a word.
But the crazed look in her eyes said everything.
She was willing to test her luck, even hurt, with a hesitant Corey.
She lunged for the gun, and he stumbled backwards.
The gun slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor as he tripped over his own feet.
Isabella scrambled, diving to the ground, and reaching for the weapon while Corey fought to keep her from it.
While they tussled over the weapon, the gun went off. The loud boom ripped through the room.
I didn’t bother to check to see if anyone was hit.
I wasn’t and that’s all that mattered at the moment.
Using my body, I rocked forward forcefully, using the chaos of the moment to try and free myself.
With one determined move, I managed to create enough momentum to tip the chair sideways, making the wooden chair shatter under my weight.
My hands, still bound to the arms, scraped against the concrete surface, but my adrenaline masked the pain.
The ropes loosened just enough for me to wiggle my hands free, and I quickly untangled myself from the broken pieces.
With my hands finally freed, I scrambled to my feet just as loud groans and rapid bullets could be heard in the distance.
By the time I looked back at Isabella and Corey, she had the gun backing away from him, who was now sprawled out on the floor. Blood trickled from his shoulder. Whether the bullet hit him or grazed him, I didn’t know, and didn’t care.
She turned toward me, her eyes wild, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction or the time to gather her bearings before I rushed her with full force.
My shoulder slammed into her chest, knocking her to the ground, causing the gun to fly from her hand.
It skidded across the floor, and I began wailing on her with all the strength I had left.
Each punch landed with a satisfying crash.
We were both hurt, but adrenaline fueled each of us.
She clawed at my face, her nails digging into my skin. And I fought back with equal intensity. We were both in survival mode, but I was more determined. Using my knees, I pinned her arms to the ground, then I used my elbows to keep her from wriggling free.
“You had me kidnapped,” I snarled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her head into the floor forcefully. “Tried to have me killed.” I repeated the motion, and she spit blood in my face.
I blacked out.
Wrapping my fingers around her neck, I squeezed, while banging her head over and over until her lifeless body lay still beneath me.
Her wide eyes were stuck in a haunting stare, forever frozen in shock.
My heart pounded in my chest, and horror filled me for the briefest of seconds at what I had done.
But there was no time to dwell on it; I was still held captive and needed to find a way out.
Taking one last look at her, I mumbled, “Stupid bitch.”