Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
“So, you weren’t even gonna tell me you were leaving?”
Danger’s voice cut through the empty space as he walked up behind Chyna.
He had marched straight through the empty townhouse, tracking her to the backyard.
Around them, the movers swarmed, hauling taped cardboard boxes, wrapping furniture in plastic, and systematically loading the pieces of her life into a U-Haul truck.
Danger had only stopped by to get some semblance of closure.
He’d intended to do the right thing: return her house keys, officially sign over the deed to the boutique, and leave without a fuss.
But Chyna was already ten steps ahead of him.
By the time he had driven past the shop earlier, it was gutted.
Now, she was hours away from erasing her presence from Richmond entirely.
She had wanted to slip away before Danger ever caught wind of it, but luck wasn't on her side today.
Chyna turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. “For what, Dmitri?”
The question was dry, devoid of the warmth they used to share. She and Danger had ended their rocky relationship months ago, and now he was parading around the city with Zena on his arm.
“After everything we went through… that’s all you’ve got to say to me?” Danger asked, his brow furrowing.
“What am I supposed to say? You made your choice, and I made mine. I have to get out of Richmond. There’s nothing left for me here.” Her voice hitched slightly, a rare crack in her armor, but she quickly swallowed it down. “San Francisco is a fresh start.”
It was the truth: Chyna’s mother and her only sister had both passed away over the years. Her tightest circle of friends had long since scattered to different zip codes. The only thing that had kept her glued to Richmond’s soil all this time was Danger.
Danger stared at her, the reality sinking in. “I see. That’s big, Chyna. Truly. You’ve been talking about getting out West for years.”
He struggled to say more, but the words felt stuck in his throat.
A part of him felt disappointed that she was erasing him so easily, but another part was genuinely happy for her.
He wanted to explain the messy transition of his feelings, but the truth stared him in the face: they were walking on two entirely different paths.
Danger was ready to slow down, get married, build a family, and enjoy the fruits of his labor from the music industry.
Chyna was still chasing the horizon, looking to flourish in her career, still searching for a place to call her own.
Desperate to kill the tension, Chyna looked away, tracking a mover carrying her mattress. “So, what else can I do for you, D? I'm on a tight schedule.”
Danger took a slow breath, his chest tightening. “Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”
The question slipped out into the open air.
Chyna snapped her head back toward him, her defenses shattering as a fresh wave of tears rushed into her eyes. “How—how did you find out about that?”
“I came over to the house a few weeks back to grab the rest of my clothes from the closet,” Danger said softly.
“You left the Planned Parenthood paperwork sitting right there on the kitchen table. You could have told me, Chyna. I deserved to know. To at least have a choice in the matter. I would have made sure you were straight, no matter what.”
Chyna let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “This wasn’t about you, Dmitri. It wasn’t about what you wanted. Straight? Nigga, what does that even mean? Just look at the mess you made of us.”
Tears began to track rapidly down her cheeks.
Seeing her crumble, Danger closed the distance between them.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tightly against his chest. He didn't say a word; he just held her, letting her weep into his shirt.
The last thing he had ever wanted to do was inflict pain on Chyna.
She would always hold a sacred, permanent piece of his heart, even if that heart had lately started beating to a different rhythm.
“I couldn’t do it,” she choked out against his shoulder, her voice small. “I knew better than to bring a child into this world.”
Chyna never wanted children; she made sure to always let him know that she didn't possess a single motherly instinct.
She had been faithfully taking birth control since she was sixteen years old.
But somehow, during those chaotic, emotional weeks when she and Danger were in romantic limbo, she must have missed a pill.
Some people would call her selfish, and she was perfectly fine with that.
She had zero intention of altering her destiny to become someone's mother.
Chyna was the direct result of a woman who didn't want a child but had one anyway.
She grew up as a consequence of a woman trying to use a pregnancy to keep a man, only to end up a resentful, single mother.
The profound lack of maternal love Chyna received as a little girl had forced her to spend her entire youth hunting for validation in anyone who would look her way.
She was determined to break that cycle, no matter the cost.
“I’m sorry,” Danger whispered into her hair, his grip tightening.
Chyna pulled back, sniffing as she wiped her wet face with the sleeve of her sweater. “It’s fine. Honestly, I would make a terrible mother anyway. I can’t cook to save my life.”
Danger let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. You really can’t.”
They both laughed, the final sound shared between two people who had loved each other but were finally ready to let go.
The rain was drumming a steady rhythm against the windows of Danger’s penthouse. Inside, the only light came from the glow of the fireplace and the turntable's soft light. A Sade record was spinning, her voice filling the quiet gaps between them.
Zena was curled up on the oversized leather sofa, wearing one of Danger’s grey hoodies and a pair of shorts. Her notebook was balanced on her knees, a pen gripped loosely in her hand, but her eyes were fixed on the city lights bleeding through the glass.
Danger stepped out of the kitchen, carrying two mugs of Chai tea. He’d swapped his usual designer suits for a simple black T-shirt and sweatpants. He set the mugs down on the coffee table and sank onto the couch beside her, stretching his long legs out.
Without a word, Zena shifted, swinging her legs over his lap. Danger’s large hand immediately came down to rest on her ankle, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles against her skin.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he noted, his deep voice rumbling low beneath the music. “Song giving you trouble?”
“No,” Zena murmured, setting her pen down on the notebook. She leaned her head back against the cushions, sighing.
“Just thinking about our living situation. Amari told me today that the landlord is raising the rent again. We found a cute house on Fendall.”
Danger didn't say anything right away. He just kept stroking her ankle, his eyes fixed on her face, analyzing her expressions with that unreadable gaze she had grown to know so well.
“Don’t do that.” Danger said matter-of-factly.
Zena blinked, turning her head to look at him. “What do you mean? Don’t do what? Dmitri, we need a roof over our heads.”
“I’m saying…” Danger shifted, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
He reached over, removing the notebook from her lap and setting it on the table, clearing the space between them.
“You’re spending four, five nights a week here anyway.
The rest of the time, you’re locked in my studio or on a plane.
Half your clothes are already taking over my walk-in closet.
It’s time to make it official, Zena. Move in with me. ”
Zena hesitated.
“I can’t do that, Danger,” she said. “I can't just up and leave Amari.”
Danger’s brow furrowed slightly. “Amari is a grown woman. She’ll survive.”
“It’s not just about surviving, Dmitri,” Zena countered, sitting up straighter and pulling her legs back onto her side of the couch.
“Amari has had my back through everything.
When I didn't have a dime, when my head was messed up from the industry, she shared her space with me. We split everything fifty-fifty. If I walk out on her right now, she can't afford that house on her own. I’m not about to leave my best friend out back just because things are going well for me.”
Danger watched her, his expression turning.
“Nobody is talking about leaving her homeless,” Danger said. He reached out, his warm hand cupping the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her jawline to anchor her to him.
“Listen to me. If you move in here, I'll cover the rent over there for the rest of the year. Amari keeps the place, her bills don't change, and you get to be where you belong. Money isn't the issue here, Zena. Don't use her as a shield to keep from taking the next step with me.”
Zena opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. Danger always had a way of cutting straight through her armor to the raw truth. He was willing to pay for a house across town just to remove any excuse she had left.
“This condo is two thousand square feet of empty space when you’re not in it,” Danger confessed, his eyes locking onto hers.
“I’m dropping my guard right now, Zena. I’ve built a lot of walls in this city to keep people out.
But I want you inside of them. Permanently.
Let me handle the rent over there. But you? You belong here next to me.”
Zena stared at him over the short distance, studying the smooth lines of his face. Danger didn’t play games, and he didn’t make offers he didn’t mean.
Consideration really was the highest form of love.
A soft smile broke across her face, the tension melting out of her shoulders. She reached up, wrapping her fingers around his wrist where his hand still cradled her neck.
“You're really gonna pay for a whole house?” Zena whispered. “You know Amari is gonna think you're crazy, right?”
Danger’s mouth ticked upward into a slow, satisfied smirk. “Let her think whatever she wants, as long as I get my girl. You act like Amari is gonna complain.”
“You’re right about that,” Zena snickered, leaning into him. “Well…You’re stuck with me officially.”
“Good,” Danger murmured. He pulled her against his chest, locking his arms around her waist as Sade’s smooth vocals continued to turn in the background, cementing the moment.