18. Say What Now
SAY WHAT NOW
TESSA
The moment my brain catches up to what just happened—the fight, the punch, Antoine sprawled out on the floor like yesterday’s trash—Saul is right there, his voice low and urgent in my ear.
“Listen, Tessa. We need to get out of here before this cop wakes up.”
I snap back like he just put his hands on me—the audacity of this man. One second, he’s disappearing off the face of the earth; the next, he’s laying men out like some overprotective warrior. And now he wants me to follow him like we’re in this together?
Hell. No.
“Are you serious right now?” My voice shakes—not with fear, but with the kind of anger that burns straight to the bone. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
Selene is at my side in a flash, her body tensed like she’s ready to go to war for me. Her glare slices through Saul—no, Marcus—whatever his real name is.
She points at him, her nostrils flaring. “Who the hell are you?"
Good question, Sis.
Saul grins. He grins! “Hello Selene, I’m Saul Mensah. And your sister here is the love of my life.”
Selene gasps. “ What did he just say?” she demands, but I don’t answer. I keep staring at him. “Wait!” Selene screeches, narrowing her eyes at Saul. The moment she matches the gorgeous man standing before her with the few pictures we’ve found online, her eyes light up with rage. “Saul Mensah? The guy who left you on Love, Unmasked? What the hell is he doing here?”
“Tessa,” He steps closer, ignoring Selene, and I feel his desperation when he repeats my name.
The vulnerability I sensed in the hub rushes back, leaving me feeling unsteady. My pearls heat and tighten as if an invisible force is pushing me toward him. Something tells me I’ll be safe with him while I figure out what’s going on.
We’re going to need privacy for this conversation.
“Selene, can you grab me some water from the bar downstairs?”
Selene shoots me a look that screams are you serious right now? But I counter with the look—the one we’ve perfected over years of sisterhood. It says, I’ve got this. Go. But if shit hits the fan, be ready to save me.
She hesitates, her eyes flicking between me and Saul, but finally nods and heads toward the stairs.
The second she’s out of sight, Saul doesn’t waste a beat. His hand wraps firmly around mine, warm and commanding, and he tugs me along the side of the room, weaving through the shadows like we’re avoiding the spotlight. My heart pounds with every step, the heat of his palm igniting a simmering pull deep in my chest.
“Saul,” I whisper, a warning in my tone.
He glances back at me, his jaw tight, eyes blazing with something I can’t quite name. “Not here,” he says, his voice low but full of urgency, pulling me closer as if shielding me from the world.
We’re almost at the exit when a figure steps in front of us and, with a swift motion, snatches the pearls from my neck. The suddenness of it jolts me, the cool air brushing against my now bare collarbone like a slap.
I shriek, spinning around, ready to fight whoever dared to grab me. “What the hell—” I start, but the words die in my throat when I see her face.
It’s one of the fortune tellers hired for the night—or at least, that’s what I’d thought. But now, I can see she’s so much more than that up close. Her face is painted with intricate, swirling patterns, and small bones and herbs dangle from her braids, rattling softly as she moves.
And then it hits me.
She looks just like my mother.
The resemblance is uncanny—the same sharp cheekbones, full lips, piercing eyes that seem to see straight through me. My heart stumbles in my chest, and I can’t move, can’t breathe.
This isn’t just a fortune teller. This is something else entirely. She stares at me with a knowing smirk, her fingers clutching my pearls like they’re the final piece of a puzzle only she understands.
The room tilts slightly as I take an unsteady step back, my voice a shaky whisper. “Mama?”
She doesn’t answer. But how she looks at me—intense, deliberate—makes me feel like she’s holding secrets I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.
I clutch at Saul’s solid form, desperate to steady myself. The lace, the pearls, the way her soft curls frame her face—it’s her. It’s her. My breath comes in short, shallow bursts, and my heart pounds so loudly it drowns out everything else. I’m barely upright, teetering on the edge of disbelief and the ache of longing I’ve carried for so long.
But what is she? Because everything about her—the way the air bends around her and her presence hums with energy—screams that she’s something far beyond human.
Her white wedding dress is worn, almost ancient, and covered by an elaborate robe. A heady aroma of incense, sage, and something citrusy—burning oranges, maybe—wraps around us like a veil.
Furthermore, she doesn’t even glance my way. Instead, she locks eyes with Saul, her gaze sharp and deliberate, before reaching out to grab his hands. Her grip is firm, unyielding like he’s the only one that matters now. I am invisible, my feelings shake with something dangerously close to resentment. How could she… bypass me? Her daughter? The air feels heavy and charged, and the world around us seems to shift, but all I can think is, Why him? Why not me? Why never me?
“What is this?” I ask, my voice trembling, betraying the steady tone I desperately try to fake.
Saul keeps his focus entirely on her. Her eyes flutter shut, and she begins chanting in a language that feels older than time itself. The words are deep and melodic, vibrating like a drumbeat.
“Saul!” I gasp, but he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he responds to her, his deep voice rolling out words in the same strange, ancient rhythm. The speech flows between them like a holy conversation, seamless and powerful. The language slips from his lips as if it’s something he’s known all his life, a sacred prayer awakening from deep within him.
What. In. The. Entire. Hell.
I knew it. I told Selene this supernatural shit was real.
Their conversation stops abruptly, leaving a deafening silence in my ears. His expression is unreadable, but the tension radiating from his body is palpable. His shoulders are tight, his hands still trembling faintly from the energy that passed through them.
She turns to me, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.
I watch as Saul takes my hand and takes a shaky step back, his wariness etched into every line of his face. He glances at me, his dark eyes brimming with something between awe and suspicion, like he’s just entered a world he didn’t know existed.
“She was speaking to me,” he says, his voice low and rough like the words are coated in gravel. “In G?.”
I blink at him. “G??”
Saul nods, his brows furrowing. “It’s a language native to my people in Ghana. My grandmother spoke it fluently. But I haven’t heard it since I was a kid.” He looks back toward the spirit—my mama—but there’s no longing in his gaze, only guarded curiosity and an undercurrent of unease.
“How could she know that?” he mutters, almost to himself. “Why would she?—”
His words cut off as she lifts a hand, almost in a gesture of reassurance. But Saul doesn’t relax. If anything, his body grows tenser, his jaw clenching as he steps farther back, putting more distance between himself and the apparition.
“This is a trick, Tessa,” he says, his tone sharp, warning. “Whatever this is, it’s not what it seems. A person doesn’t just show up out of nowhere conversing with me in a language I’ve barely spoken myself.”
He’s not wrong. The eyes give her away. They’re too knowing, precise, and sharp to belong to the mama I’ve spent my whole life yearning for. But she looks just like her. She’s an apparition, feeding on my longing, my grief.
There’s something about her that feels… acquainted . My grand-mere called them familiar spirits .
It’s not evil, just a cruel reflection of the love I’ve always wanted. She’s here to haunt, not harm. To remind me of the embrace I’ll never have, even as she lingers, just close enough to make me wish otherwise. She may have spoken to Saul, but it’s clear she’s here for me.
Saul’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Don’t let her get in your head,” he says firmly, his gaze locked on mine.
The weight of his words settles heavily between us, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Not yet.
The woman smiles faintly, her gaze steady and knowing, as though she’s already seen the outcome of whatever chaos she unleashes. Then, in perfect, measured English, she says, “You followed the path your ancestors set, Tessa, and found love. Now, all you have to do is find the truth.” Her eyes settle on Saul with the final word.
As the weight of her words settles between us, she reaches into the folds of her robe and holds out my pearls, the necklace dangling from her fingers like a lifeline. Slowly, deliberately, she steps forward and returns them to my hands. Her touch is surprisingly warm, almost grounding, yet it sends a shiver racing down my spine.
She nods once, as if satisfied, before retreating into the shadows. It’s as though she was never there, vanishing with the same eerie grace with which she arrived.
Saul remains still, his jaw set tight, his shoulders tense as if bracing for a blow. His hands flex at his sides like he’s trying to grasp something intangible. I look at him, my heart hammering, searching his face for answers I know he doesn’t have.
“What the hell just happened?” I whisper, clutching the pearls to my chest, their familiar weight doing little to steady the storm inside me.
Saul doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingers on where the woman disappeared, his brows furrowed, his breathing shallow. Whatever happened, it’s clear neither of us is walking away unchanged.
Hurriedly, he grabs a jacket draped over the back of a nearby chair and throws it over my shoulders, the fabric warm and slightly worn. I clutch it tightly, the weight of it grounding me, and for a moment, I’m grateful for this small, simple gesture that feels like a lifeline in the chaos swirling around us.
It’s only then that I remember I’m still dressed in nothing but a yellow bikini and a short, sheer chiffon cover-up. The cool night air nips at my legs as we step outside, but the jacket feels like a shield—his quiet, unspoken way of protecting me, even now.
As the city hums in the background, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, his face set in that familiar mix of determination and restraint. There’s so much I want to say, so many questions clawing at my throat, but the words don’t come.
It feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.