Chapter 12
(A little earlier)
H assan sat in his office at the casino, his eyes glued to the computer screen as he reviewed the latest security reports. Business was running smoothly—money flowing in, no hiccups in operations— but the second Von’s name flashed across his phone, he knew it was something worth his attention.
He answered on the first ring.
“Braxton moving again,” Von informed him, his voice sharp and to the point. Hassan wasn’t surprised; that nigga had been sniffing around places he had no business being. But what made him pause, what made his grip tighten on the phone, was Von’s next words.
“He just pulled up to Sevyn’s parents’ house. And she’s there.” Hassan didn’t even think.
“Send me the address,” he ordered, already pushing back from his desk.
“Bet. Just sent it.”
The call ended. Hassan grabbed his keys and was out the door in seconds, his Ferrari roaring to life as he sped through the city.
His mind raced just as fast as the car, but his emotions?
Cold. Calculated. The only thing sitting in his chest was irritation, a low-burning heat threatening to turn into something uncontrollable.
By the time he reached the location Von sent, he didn’t go inside right away. Instead, he parked a few houses down, the engine purring as he sat in the shadows. A blunt burned between his fingers, smoke curling around him as he forced himself to wait. To be patient.
But patience wasn’t something he had when it came to her.
He didn’t know why he was sitting outside her parents’ house like this. Why he cared that she was in the same room as Braxton. Why the thought of her being around that nigga made his blood boil.
But he did. And the longer Braxton stayed inside, the harder it was for Hassan to sit still.
His phone was already in his hand, his finger tapping against Sevyn’s contact before he could think better of it. The phone rang .
And rang. And rang.
She wasn’t answering.
His grip tightened around the steering wheel, his jaw clenching as a wave of frustration hit him. He didn’t like waiting. Didn’t like feeling out of control. He was two seconds away from walking up to the door and dragging her out his damn self—fuck whoever had something to say about it.
Then, finally, she picked up.
“Hey, Hassan. I can’t talk right now,” she said, her voice small, cracking at the edges like she was barely holding it together.
That was all it took.
A dark, dangerous heat settled in his chest. Whoever had her like this? Whoever made her sound this broken? He wanted them gone.
“Come outside, Sevyn,” he said, his voice low and controlled. A command, not a request.
“What?” She asked, disbelief laced in her tone.
He didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t have to.
Because in the next second, he saw her step out from the back of the house, her eyes scanning the street until they landed on his car.
She couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, but he saw everything.
The way her body hesitated, the way her arms wrapped around herself, the way she was unraveling right in front of him.
Then his focus shifted. The front door swung open. Braxton stumbled out. His lip was split, blood trailing down his chin.
Interesting.
Hassan watched as Braxton rushed to his car, his movements frantic, his head swiveling like he was making sure no one else was coming for him. The moment he slammed the door shut and sped off, Hassan’s fingers twitched against the gear shift.
Every instinct told him to follow. To run that nigga off the road and make him regret every choice that led him here.
But then—“Hassan, I’m not leaving with you,” Sevyn’s voice pulled him back, her words laced with frustration. “My parents and Dorian are inside, and too much shit just went down.”
He exhaled through his nose, his patience wearing thin. She was always so damn stubborn.
Fine. He’d give her a choice.
“Either you go say goodbye to them and get in this car,” he said, his voice dropping into something lethal, something that left no room for argument, “or I chase after this nigga and kill him.”
Silence.
Even from inside the car, he saw her body tense, her arms dropping to her sides. She knew he wasn’t bluffing.
“Okay…” she finally murmured, her voice softer now. “Just let me talk to my parents.”
A slow smirk spread across Hassan’s face. He hung up without another word. Now all he had to do was wait.
Hassan sat in the car, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as his patience started to thin. He didn’t like waiting. Didn’t like being out in the open like this. But the longer he waited, the more he realized—he wasn’t leaving without Sevyn.
His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen before answering.
“Aye, nigga. We need to slide on this nigga Braxton. Dorian just told me what his bitch ass did,” Roman’s voice came through, sharp and heated.
Hassan smirked slightly. He already knew Roman was ready to kill something. “I know. I watched the shit unfold.”
There was silence before Roman’s tone dropped even lower, lethal. “Then let’s move on it now.”
Hassan exhaled through his nose. “Be patient, nigga. We gon’ get his ass, but we gotta be smart. The heat around him too hot with this trial.”
Roman huffed, clearly frustrated. “I hear you. But that nigga need to stop fuckin’ with my lady, though.”
Hassan chuckled at that. Dorian had Roman wrapped, even if he didn’t wanna admit it. She was as fiery as she was reckless, the only type of woman that could keep up with Roman’s energy.
Before he could say anything, Roman spoke up again. “Wait… what you mean you watched the shit unfold?”
Hassan clenched his jaw, realizing his slip-up. He could already hear the amusement creeping into Roman’s voice.
“I’m outside Sevyn’s parents’ house.” His voice was calm, nonchalant—like what he said wasn’t nothing.
Roman, however, wasn’t about to let that slide.
“Nigga out here playin’ superhero for his woman and shit,” Roman joked, laughter clear in his voice.
Hassan shook his head. “Ain’t even like that, mane.”
Roman wasn’t buying it. “Then why the fuck you there, then? I know your ass ain’t meetin’ the family.”
Before Hassan could respond, movement caught his eye. Sevyn had walked out of the house, Dorian right beside her. He watched as they exchanged a few words before hugging. Then, Sevyn turned and started walking toward his car.
Hassan hung up the phone without a word.
He didn’t need to hear Roman’s bullshit. He already knew that nigga was somewhere laughing his ass off.
Instead, his full attention was on Sevyn .
His eyes dragged over her as she approached—high-waisted jeans hugging her hips just right, a white sleeveless top that fit snug around her curves, showcasing the ink that covered her arm.
Her long hair flowed down her back, catching the wind effortlessly.
The rhythmic click of her heels against the pavement sent a slow pulse through his veins.
Damn. His dick twitched at the sight of her.
She was beautiful—more than that, she was dangerous . Because every time he looked at her, she had him feeling some shit he didn’t even wanna name.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to fight it anymore.
Sevyn slid into the car with a deep frown, her tear-streaked face and puffy eyes impossible to miss.
The sight of it stirred something hot inside Hassan, but instead of letting his emotions take over— chasing after Braxton and ending things right then—he tightened his grip on the wheel and pressed the gas, speeding off into the night.
The silence didn’t last long.
“Where are you taking me?” Sevyn asked, her voice sharp, demanding answers.
Hassan ignored her, his gaze locked on the road.
“Hassan.” She tried again, her patience thinning, but once again, no response.
Her stubbornness was something he found both frustrating and oddly amusing. He knew she wouldn’t let up easily, but he had already told her to ride in silence, and he meant that shit.
After a few more failed attempts at prying an answer out of him, she finally gave up with an irritated sigh, sinking into her seat.
The drive was long, stretching out under the dim glow of streetlights and the quiet hum of the engine.
Hassan noticed how her body gradually relaxed, her eyelids growing heavy, though she fought it.
She didn’t trust him enough to let herself fall asleep around him.
That should’ve irritated him—but it didn’t. If anything, it intrigued him.
By the time they pulled up to his house—secluded, massive, and sitting alone on the outskirts of the city—Sevyn was barely holding on to consciousness. Her sleepy eyes scanned the dark exterior, her brows pulling together slightly.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice softer this time.
Hassan didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped out and walked around to her side, opening her door.
“I’m not getting out,” she declared, suddenly more alert. “This feels a lot like kidnapping.”
Hassan exhaled slowly, already over her dramatics. “Sevyn, either get ou t of the car willingly, or I’ll carry your ass inside.”
They locked eyes, tension crackling between them. After a long pause, she finally let out a sigh and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement. Her gaze traveled across the home again, taking in every detail before shifting back to him.
“This is your house?” she asked, curiosity flickering in her tired eyes.
Hassan nodded, gripping her hand and leading her toward the front door.
She didn’t fight him. Didn’t pull away. She just followed.
And when they stepped inside, he didn’t miss the way her expression shifted, her eyes widening slightly as she took it all in.
The second Sevyn stepped inside, her eyes wandered, taking in every detail of his home. The space was modern but dark, masculine. High ceilings, smooth black furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the vast stretch of land surrounding the property. Everything about it screamed Hassan.