Chapter 21 #5
His chest tightened. “Sevyn…” he breathed, grabbing her hand gently. He didn’t want her to go. God, he needed her to stay. But he also knew—he didn’t deserve that comfort right now. The look in her eyes made that clear.
“I love you,” he said, his voice trembling beneath the weight of everything he felt—shame, fear, desperation. It cracked at the edges, thick with emotion, like he was begging her to believe it…because if she didn’t, he didn’t know what was left of him.
She looked up at him—eyes still glossy, cheeks still wet. But this time, the fear wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was real. And it destroyed him.
Sevyn stepped forward, pressing a soft, tear-soaked kiss to his cheek. It lingered like a whisper of forgiveness… but not enough to silence the storm.
Then she walked out.
She didn’t say the words back—but he knew she still loved him. Even if she couldn’t speak it right now. Even if she was too afraid to stay in that moment. And she was right—they needed space. Because he’d done the one thing he swore he’d never do.
He hurt the woman who always saw the light in his darkness.
Hassan stood still for a long beat, his fists clenched at his sides as the silence swallowed him whole. Then, with one guttural shout, he slammed his fist into the wall beside him—sending drywall flying, his knuckles splitting as a raw, jagged hole took shape.
But it didn’t hurt. Not like losing her did.
???
Sevyn gripped the steering wheel and sped through the gates, leaving Hassan’s house behind in a blur.
Her chest tightened, heart pounding as her tears fell freely—hot, heavy, and endless.
She needed to get away. Away from that house.
Away from the moment his hands wrapped around her throat.
Away from the look in his eyes that told her he wasn’t there—not really.
She knew Hassan would never intentionally hurt her.
He was the only man, outside of her father, who ever made her feel safe.
But tonight, he wasn’t Hassan. He was lost in the rage.
Consumed by his trauma. Surrounded by demons she couldn’t see but could feel in the air.
His eyes weren’t his—they were empty, void of everything that made him the man she fell for.
And it wasn’t until the very end, when he loosened his grip, that she saw him again.
Just for a second. But it was enough to break her.
Her hands trembled as the car weaved through the streets. What if I made a mistake trying to heal him? What if I wasn’t supposed to love him? What if loving him will be the thing that kills me?
The thoughts hit her like punches to the chest, one after another, stealing her breath and soaking her face with tears. She didn’t want to believ e them. Didn’t want to believe that this love—so deep, so real, so undeniable—could destroy her.
But what if it could?
She saw the photos Braxton showed her—Hassan’s mother lying cold and bloodied on the kitchen floor, a bullet in her chest and another in her head.
All because she loved a man who couldn’t let go of his demons.
A man who gambled away his life and theirs.
What if I’m becoming her? she thought. What if I love Hassan so much that I can’t see when it’s killing me?
Because the truth was, Hassan still lived in a world that could swallow them whole.
He wasn’t some street-corner runner or dime-bag dealer.
He was power. He was danger. A king in a world where kings were hunted, envied, targeted.
He had millions in street money and billions through his casino empire—but every dollar came with blood on it.
Every move put a target on his back. And if it wasn’t his bipolar disorder that would destroy him, it would be the life he built to survive.
Once, she was drawn to that chaos. Back when she was young, na?ve, reckless. The thrill of danger felt like love when you didn’t know better. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She craved peace. Safety. Stillness. And Hassan… Hassan wasn’t peace.
But he was hers.
The thought of walking away—of never feeling his arms around her again, never hearing his voice say “I love you” with that soft edge only she knew—hurt worse than the fear of staying. She loved him. Despite everything, she loved him.
And the thought of losing him? That was the only thing more terrifying than loving him.
Sevyn’s phone buzzed, snapping her out of the spiral of thoughts flooding her mind. Dorian’s name lit up the screen, and she answered immediately—knowing damn well her cousin would blow her phone up if she didn’t.
“Hey boo,” Sevyn said, trying to mask the crack in her voice. But Dorian heard it. She always did. She knew Sevyn better than anyone— besides Hassan.
“Sev, what’s wrong?” Dorian’s voice shifted in an instant, her tone sharp and alert. It was close to midnight, and Sevyn knew she was in bed—or laid up with Roman, no matter how often she swore she wasn’t taking him seriously.
Sevyn didn’t even try to lie. Dorian would drag it out of her anyway.
“I just left Hassan’s house,” she whispered, her tears slipping freely now.
The image of Hassan’s face—broken and ashamed— haunted her.
She knew he was probably at home, wrecked with guilt, tearing himself apart over what happened .
“What? Okay, why are you crying? Did he hurt you?!” Dorian snapped, her voice rising. Roman’s voice echoed faintly in the background, asking what the hell was going on.
“Shut the fuck up!” Dorian barked at him. “Or I’ll bury you next to your crazy-ass best friend!”
That made Sevyn let out a weak chuckle, but the tears didn’t stop. “What did he do, Sevyn?” Dorian pressed, her tone switching back to worry.
“He… he…” Sevyn hesitated, her voice breaking. She didn’t want to say it aloud, didn’t want to make it real.
“If Hassan did anything to you that didn't involve beating that pussy up, I’m killing him—and Roman too if he defends his ass!” Dorian snapped.
"What’d that nigga do, sis?” Roman jumped in now, just as hyped. “He been real different lately—calmer because of you. If he fucked that up, I’ll kill him for you my damn self.”
Sevyn tried to respond, but her attention drifted to her rearview mirror. A black truck had been behind her since she pulled out of Hassan’s driveway. Every turn she took, it followed.
“Dorian… you still got my location?” she asked, her voice suddenly low and tight.
“Yes. Sevyn, what the fuck is going on?”
Sevyn didn’t answer. She turned down another street. The truck turned too. Her pulse spiked.
Then—bam! The truck rammed into the back of her Maserati. Her scream cracked through the call, and Dorian and Roman both exploded in panic.
“Sevyn?! What the fuck was that?!” Dorian screamed.
Sevyn gripped the wheel, trying to steady herself, but the truck rammed her again—harder this time. She jerked the wheel, trying to dodge, but the force slammed her into a tree. Her head whipped forward, crashing against the steering wheel.
The phone clattered to the floor as everything faded to black. “SEVYN!” Dorian screamed into the phone, but the line went silent.