19. The Acquisition
THE ACQUISITION
And Soleil wouldn't ask nicely.
His phone sat in the cupholder, screen lighting up every few minutes with messages he wasn't answering. Soreya had texted twice more. Sevyn had sent a string of voice notes about Noctis's crew moving on the Southside. Cairo had sent one message:
Reign's jaw clenched.
He knew.
The city lights of Richmond faded in the rearview as he crossed into Petersburg.
The streets were quieter here—less nightlife, more residential, the kind of place where grad students could afford rent and still be close enough to campus.
Arissa's apartment was in a newer complex off South Crater Road, the kind with keycard entry and security cameras that made humans feel safe.
Reign parked the Hellcat in a visitor spot, killed the engine, and sat there for a moment.
He could still smell Auren's blood on his clothes from earlier.
Could still feel the high fading, that clarity slipping away, leaving him with the weight of what he had to do tonight.
He pulled a bottle of Tom Ford cologne from the glove compartment—Ombré Leather, the one Soreya had bought him last Christmas—and sprayed it over his jacket and neck.
Covering the scent of what he was.
He checked his reflection in the rearview. Black Amiri jeans, black Saint Laurent hoodie under a leather jacket, gold chain catching the streetlight. His locs were pulled back, his golds gleaming when he smiled.
He looked expensive. Dangerous. Exactly what he needed to be.
Reign climbed out of the car and walked toward the building.
The lobby was all glass and modern lighting, the kind of aesthetic that screamed "luxury student housing.
" He bypassed the front desk—empty this late—and took the elevator to the third floor.
Apartment 3C. He'd gotten the address from Soleil, who'd gotten it from someone who knew someone who worked in VSU's registrar office.
The Saint family had reach.
Reign stood outside her door for a moment, listening.
Music. Low, sultry—SZA's voice drifting through the walls. The faint clink of glass. She was awake. Good. He knocked three times, firm but not aggressive.
Footsteps approached. A pause. Then the door cracked open, the chain still latched.
Arissa Sterling looked at him through the gap, her expression unreadable.
She was wearing an oversized Howard University hoodie that hung off one shoulder, black leggings, and fuzzy socks.
Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, a few curls framing her face.
No makeup. She didn't need it. Her skin was smooth, deep brown, glowing even in the dim hallway light.
Her eyes—sharp, intelligent, suspicious—locked onto his.
"You got a lot of nerve showing up at my door past midnight," she said, her voice calm but edged with something dangerous.
Reign smiled, leaning one hand against the doorframe. "I know. But I figured you'd still be up."
"And what made you think that?"
"Because you the type who don't sleep when you got something on your mind." He tilted his head slightly. "And I know I been on your mind since I left that lab."
Arissa's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "You real confident for somebody I could call the cops on right now."
"You could," Reign said easily. "But you won't."
"Why not?"
"Because you curious." His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "You wanna know why I'm really here. What I really want. And you smart enough to know I ain't just some random nigga trying to buy your research."
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face like she was reading him, calculating risk and reward.
Then she closed the door.
Reign heard the chain slide free.
The door opened again, wider this time, and Arissa stepped back to let him in.
"You got ten minutes," she said. "And if I don't like what you saying, you leaving the same way you came."
"Fair."
Reign stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind him.
Arissa's apartment was exactly what he expected—clean, organized, expensive in a subtle way.
A gray sectional couch dominated the living room, facing a mounted flat-screen.
Her coffee table was covered in textbooks, research papers, and a laptop still open to a document titled Photosensitivity Inhibition in Hemophagic Organisms. A half-empty bottle of Whispering Angel rosé sat next to a wine glass, condensation pooling on the wood.
The kitchen was open-concept, all stainless steel and white marble countertops. A Nespresso machine. A KitchenAid mixer. The kind of setup that said she had money or knew how to make it look like she did.
SZA's "Good Days" played softly from a Bluetooth speaker on the counter.
"You want something to drink?" Arissa asked, walking toward the kitchen. She moved with confidence, like she owned every space she entered.
"What you got?"
"Wine. Hennessy. Water."
"Henny's good."
She pulled two glasses from the cabinet and poured generous amounts of Hennessy into each, then walked back to the living room and handed him one. She sat on the couch, curling her legs under her, and gestured for him to sit.
Reign sat on the opposite end, close enough to feel the tension but far enough to give her space.
"So," Arissa said, taking a sip of her drink. "You came all the way to Petersburg at one in the morning to talk business?"
"Something like that."
"Then talk."
Reign leaned back, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his body language relaxed even though his mind was calculating every word. "You know who I am?"
"Reign Saint. You own After Dark, Smoke & Gold, couple other spots in Richmond. Nightlife entrepreneur. Got money, got connections, got a reputation for being hard to pin down." She tilted her head. "That about cover it?"
"That's the public version."
"And what's the private version?"
Reign smiled. "The private version is I'm part of a family that's been running Richmond for a long time. We control the nightlife, the clubs, the after-hours spots. We move product, we move people, we move money. And we protect what's ours."
"Sounds like organized crime."
"Sounds like business."
Arissa laughed softly, shaking her head. "You really came here to recruit me into some mob shit?"
"Nah. I came here because you got something my family needs." Reign's voice was steady, serious now. "That serum you created—the one that lets people move in daylight without burning—that's valuable. More valuable than you probably realize."
Her expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing. "How you know about that?"
"Because people talk. And when something that revolutionary hits the internet, people notice.
" He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.
"You smart, Arissa. You know what you created ain't just some academic breakthrough.
You know it got real-world applications. Dangerous applications."
"So what? You here to steal my research?"
"Nah. I'm here to offer you a partnership."
"Partnership," she repeated, her tone skeptical.
"Protection. Resources. Access to funding you wouldn't get through any university grant. You keep working on your research, you keep control of your work, but you do it under our umbrella. We make sure nobody else gets to you first."
"Nobody else like who?"
Reign's jaw tightened. "Like people who wouldn't ask nicely. People who'd take your research, take you, and not give a fuck about what you want."
Arissa stared at him, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "You talking about other crews. Other families."
"I'm talking about people who see you as a commodity. Not a person."
"And you different?"
"I'm here, ain't I? Asking. Not taking."
She took another sip of Hennessy, her eyes never leaving his. "What do you get out of this?"
"Access to the serum. Samples. Research data. And your cooperation when we need it."
"And if I say no?"
Reign's expression didn't change, but his voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Then somebody else gonna come asking. And they won't be as polite as me."
The room was silent except for SZA's voice and the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Arissa leaned back, studying him. "You know what's funny?"
"What?"
"You came in here talking about protection and partnership, but you ain't told me the real reason you want my serum.
" She set her glass down on the coffee table, her eyes sharp.
"You ain't some regular nightclub owner, Reign.
I can tell. The way you move, the way you talk, the way you showed up at my lab like you already knew I'd be there.
" She leaned forward slightly. "So what are you really? "
Reign's heart rate kicked up, but his face stayed calm.
She was reading him. Seeing through the charm, the business pitch, the carefully constructed persona.
"What you think I am?" he asked quietly.
"I think you something that needs my serum to survive daylight." Her voice was steady, unflinching. "I think you part of something old. Something most people don't believe in." She paused. "And I think you know I'm not entirely human either."
The air between them shifted.
Reign stared at her, his mind racing. She knew. Or she suspected. Either way, she was too smart to lie to.
"You right," he said finally. "I'm not regular. And neither are you."
"I know." Arissa's voice was soft now, almost vulnerable.
"I didn't know what I was until I started working on this research.
Until I realized why I could synthesize compounds that shouldn't work, why I could see things in the data nobody else could.
" She looked down at her hands. "My grandmother used to tell me stories about our family.
About people who lived longer than they should, who moved different, who had...
abilities. I thought she was just old, talking crazy.
But then I started testing my own blood. "
"And?"