Chapter 17 #5
Hassan bumped her back wheel, and her kart spun out, crashing directly into his. They slammed into the side wall, laughing like fools. A little boy zoomed by, snatching the win from both of them.
Neither of them cared.
Sevyn hadn't heard Hassan laugh like that before. Not just a chuckle. A real, full-bodied laugh. And it was more than enough of a win for her.
Workers came and helped them out, pulling the karts back in line. As they walked out of the building, ski masks they let them keep in hand, still buzzing off adrenaline, Sevyn pointed at him.
“You cheated!”
Hassan just chuckled and walked toward her car.
“So… did you have fun?” she asked, leaning against the door, waiting.
He didn’t answer immediately, but she could see it in his eyes—the glint of something brighter, the way his body had eased since earlier. The tension he always carried had softened.
“Get in the car, Sevyn,” he said, trying not to admit it.
“Not until you answer my question.”
He chuckled again, shaking his head as he looked off to the side. “Yeah.”
“Ayeee!” she grinned, doing a little dance in front of her car. His eyes followed her, amusement flickering across his face.
“It’s time for you to go home,” he said, voice dropping low again. She paused .
Then, bold as ever—maybe bolder than she meant to be—she looked at him. “Come back to my place.”
Hassan raised a brow.
“You’re not sleeping in my bed,” she added quickly, trying to keep her composure. “But I’m not ready for our night to end.”
Right then, his phone rang. They both looked down. Nova.
Sevyn’s smile dimmed just a little. “Unless you got somewhere better to be,” she said, trying to play it off with a joke.
Hassan glanced at the screen, then declined the call without hesitation. “Nah. I’ll meet you there.”
They got into their separate cars. And as Sevyn pulled off, her heart raced for an entirely different reason now. She couldn’t believe she invited him over—but she meant it.
Hassan calmed something inside her the way only she used to do for herself. She wasn’t sure what the rest of the night had in store, but one thing was clear:
She didn’t want it to be over. Not yet.
???
Hassan gripped the steering wheel as he followed behind Sevyn’s car, shifting in his seat with tension crawling through his body.
The day replayed in pieces—starting with blood on his hands.
This morning, he ended someone’s life. Another snake, someone slipping in the business who had to go.
With his past resurfacing, Braxton poking around, and Hendrix showing his face again, there couldn’t be any loose ends. No mistakes. No hesitation.
He handled it like he always did—cold and necessary—but afterward, the weight sat heavy on his chest.
So he called Sevyn. Not to see her. Not to talk long.
Just to hear her voice, hoping it would ease the part of him that never settled after violence.
But even in her laugh, even in the lightness she tried to carry, there was a crack in her tone.
Something small, but enough. Enough to tighten something in his chest and make him need to see her.
He didn’t expect the day to spiral into a soccer game, lunch, laughter, go-karts, and her—getting to know her more, watching her light up, watching her bring something alive in him that had long since gone quiet.
For the first time in his life, Hassan felt free.
Like he wasn’t just existing but living.
He wanted to fight the feeling, wanted to tell himself it was dangerous to feel this good, to let this kind of softness creep in, but he couldn’t deny it.
Not when being with her made him feel something close to peace.
He didn’t know if it was the way she challenged him or the way she s aw through him without flinching. But when she told him she wasn’t ready for him to leave her yet, it did something to him. It made him feel wanted in a way that had nothing to do with power or fear.
She didn’t want what he could offer—she just wanted him. And he hadn’t realized how much he needed that until tonight.
As he continued following her, his phone rang—snapping him out of his thoughts. Nova again. The tenth time today.
“What, mane?” he answered, jaw tight, tone simmering with irritation.
“I miss you,” her soft voice blared through his car speakers.
“Cut that mushy ass shit. We not like that,” he shot back, voice cold and flat. He heard her sigh on the other end.
“I just wanna fuck, Hassan. Can I see you?” He didn’t answer right away.
Even though being with Sevyn gave him peace—joy he hadn’t felt in years—Hassan missed sex. Missed the release. Nova was good at what she did, and he needed to get his. That’s all it was ever about.
“Aight. I’ll come by later tonight. Leave the door unlocked.”
He could practically hear her smile through the phone. “Yes, daddy,” she whispered before the line disconnected.
Women like Nova were toys to him. No emotion. No conversation. Just a body, just a release, and that was it. That’s all she’d ever be. Because a woman like Sevyn? She made him feel. And he wasn’t ready for that—not fully. Not yet.
They pulled into her building, parking side by side.
He watched her get out first, admiring her like he always did—quiet, controlled, but captivated.
They walked into the lobby together, stepping into the elevator.
She pressed her penthouse floor, using her fingerprint on her phone to unlock access.
Hassan noticed immediately. Secure. Smart. He approved.
If her elevator opened straight into her home, that security better be airtight—or there’d be a problem.
They stepped into her penthouse in silence.
He looked around like he always did. Everything was clean, calming. The scent in her space—the warm, feminine softness of it— settled over him the second they walked in. Being here always eased something in his chest.
“Want something to drink?” she asked, heading toward the kitchen.
He shook his head and moved into the spacious living room, sinking into her soft beige sectional. Moments later, she returned with a glass of wine and the entire bottle in her other hand.
“You love wine, huh?” he asked, voice low, calm as usual. She chuckled. “Are you judging me, Mr. Gaines? ”
His lips twitched. A real chuckle slipped past his lips—something only she could pull out of him.
“Nah,” he said, watching her like he always did. The way her hips moved, the way her skin caught the light. The way her presence felt like silence without tension. And that was the problem. She didn’t feel like a release. She felt like peace. And Hassan didn’t know what to do with that.
Sevyn sank into the couch across from him, tucking her feet beneath her now that her shoes were off. She took a slow sip of wine, letting the warmth settle her nerves, but her eyes drifted right back to him—and he was already looking at her.
“Why do everyone call you Ice, because of your eyes?” Sevyn asked, taking a slow sip of her wine, her tone light but curious— digging gently.
Hassan sank deeper into the couch, legs spread with that signature confidence, watching her from beneath lowered lids. Calm. Unbothered. Silent for a beat.
“Why they call you Sevyn?” he shot back, making her laugh softly. “Well, because it’s my name,” Sevyn replied, her sarcasm soft but playful.
Then her voice softened, eyes drifting slightly as memories pulled her in. “My parents said I completed their love,” she continued quietly. “They tried for years—miscarriage after miscarriage. I was their seventh pregnancy… and their miracle.”
She said it with pride, a quiet strength behind the words.
Hassan nodded, taking that in. It made sense. She felt like a miracle—one he didn’t understand yet, but couldn’t deny. From the moment he saw her, she moved something in him he thought was dead.
“Jules gave me the name,” he finally said, voice low, rough. “Said a cold nigga needed a cold name.”
Sevyn frowned slightly, the weight of that explanation settling between them.
“Who’s Jules?”
Hassan chuckled under his breath. He knew she wasn’t going to let it go.
“The man that basically raised me. Taught me everything I know.”
“Jules wrong—you’re not a cold nigga,” she said, the conviction in her voice hitting something deep.
Her tone was soft, but it landed like a truth he wasn’t ready to hear.
She saw something in him—the version of himself that existed before the trauma.
The boy buried under blood and survival.
But he couldn’t believe it. Not yet. Not after everything he’d done.
Because no matter how warm her voice felt… he still felt frozen inside .
Their eyes locked, silence stretching between them until she broke it.
“Ariel... my ex-best friend... she’s pregnant.
And it’s Braxton’s.” She didn’t sugarcoat it.
Didn’t ease into it. She just let it fall into the room, her voice cracking under the weight of it.
The sadness in her tone hit Hassan like a punch to the chest. His jaw clenched instantly.
Hearing her hurt made his blood boil—and knowing it was Braxton behind that pain only fueled the rage already sitting in his veins.
“Sorry,” she added quickly. “I just had to say it out loud. Get it out of my brain before it exploded.”
She tried to brush it off, but Hassan knew. He’d known that was the pain she’d been hiding earlier on the phone. The real crack in her voice.
“Come here, Sevyn,” he said, his voice low, calm, but softer than usual.
Her body froze. Her grip tightened around the wine glass, eyes flickering with hesitation. “Why?”
He gave her that look—the one that said he wasn’t repeating himself.
With a sigh, she downed what was left of her wine, set the glass down, and slowly stood. She walked over, and he didn’t move to meet her. He just waited, watching.